Arcadia is a broken world that only the Third Eye can fix.
I have seen many things, thanks to the Third Eye. The very fabric that our world is built on is torn. To those too blind to see, the truth almost has to slap them in the face before they notice a damn thing.
The music, broken. Pestilence is upon us. Our world is dying, and they still ignore the truth.
I see a flea.
On the surface it seems harmless, insignificant even. One would barely give it a second look, until it sinks its teeth into you.
Once bitten, the true nature of the flea becomes clear. It feasts on your blood. It drinks from your very lifeforce to nourish itself. Left to its own devices, it would drink its fill until sated, oozing any number of disease-ridden saliva into the bloodstream of its victim in the process.
You see, the flea is the transmitter of pestilence. Once bitten, the victim comes to know just how dangerous a little flea can be. No longer harmless and insignificant but a deadly unexpected assassin.
But we quickly learn how to deal with fleas.
We don’t let them bite. When they land upon us, and line us up with their beady little eyes, we swat. We destroy the flea before it can infect us with its poison.
I see you, little Flea.
I see the brokenness you cause Arcadia, the very tearing of the fabric on which our world is built on. The Red District is just as broken as any other area in Arcadia, and it was that way long before Nergal sunk her teeth into it. Your disease infected our world, through the smiling face of Eden. You lapped up Arcadia’s need to have their desires fulfilled and bred your pestilence into our world in the process.
Where others see a lifeline to their troubles, a harmless charmster who was once the face of the most exclusive club in all of Arcadia, I see what they do not. Where others come to you, desperate for the chance for the Duke to fulfil their Desires, I see the ugly other side of the favours you pedal. I see the disease that comes with your iron-clad promises.
I see the decay, the pestilence you spew when you sink your teeth into Arcadia. Where Arcadia sees your smiling, charming exterior, I see the black inside your heart that others cannot. You offer people exactly what they want, you built an empire on promises held, but the fools that beg you for your service are blind to the truth. Nothing comes for free, does it Aarman?
I’ve been in slums and on Deathrow long enough that I know exactly how to deal with little fleas like you, peddler of broken dreams. I swat. I destroy.
Because when the flea is allowed to bite, pestilence follows.
And you’re not sinking your teeth into the Third Eye like you have the rest of Arcadia. What the Third Eye shows will be seen, to those who dare to look.