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Fear the 1st Wish

We fade into the interior of Eden, usually lush and vibrant, now the stench and decay of death poisons it’s very nature. Bodies litter the floor of the victims of Nergal as not a soul is seen, aside from the figure of Aarman Fidel. Still seated at his favorite table, now coated in his staff’s blood as he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Fidel breaths deeply before speaking softly in an almost monotone. 

I’ve never been confused for a loving man. Most consider me nothing but a demon with a silver tongue who would sacrifice his own child for an ounce of power…and they wouldn’t be wrong on that assessment.

Yet inexplicably, there were people who cared, people who stood by my side until the very end. These people are…

Aarman pauses for a moment, getting to his feet as he walks around the table and kneels down at the head of a slowly decomposing corpse. 

Were ones who considered me friends. I watched them grow, watched them live and love, knew their hopes and dreams, toasted them on their wedding day, held their children on the day of birth and you know what I feel staring down at their corpses?

Fidel places two fingers on it’s eyelids, slowly drawing down before sighing deeply. 

Absolutely nothing.

Because the truth is,  I haven’t felt anything in a long, long time. No misery, no joy, no sorrow, no envy, no desire. I just learnt to fake it enough so you all would buy my bullshit.

And everytime I go to one of you quacks, you poke and prod, analyze and evaluate and tell me everything I already fucking know. I’ve tried them all, so that brings me to the very best, the MD who spits in the face of Death himself.

So I ask you good Doctor, can you do the impossible? Can you heal the most broken man in Arcadia and legitimize your skills into legend? Can you fix what truly is broken for glory and fame?

No you cannot. Because this isn’t some common malady, this isn’t a brain disease that’s eaten away at my personality over time. 

Fidel stands up once more, his face completely blank as he runs his hands over the bloodied table, almost absent minded.

You see my dear doctor, I don’t have a soul. Twas ripped out by someone I cared about long ago, cursed to live with nothing but a numbing abyss. 


Fidel screams in absolute anger, slamming his fists down upon the marble table and splitting it in two. 

It’s funny how the first thing I feel in decades is white hot rage but I don’t think you’ll be laughing alongside me doc because I am done being Arcadia’s personal djinn, I don’t care about your desires Doctor, but you’re going to learn all about mine.

Nergal dares believe she can inflict fear upon the one it was born for? Well watch closely twins because what I desire is for Death himself to quiver at the very mention of my name.

Aarman looks deep into the camera, his usual amber eyes turning pitch black for a single moment. 

Just like everyone else soon will.

Aarman Fidel