Since I can remember, there’s been a sweet yet macabre voice echoing throughout the soul of Arcadia.
The strings of death have always and will always be the theme song of this world and anytime a force tries to rewrite that undying fact, they succumb to the melody of malice as they become part of the symphony of El Muerte.
It’s a tune that has become a true nightmare as the moment you hear its sweet seduction, the ticking clock of Damocles rips apart whatever life you have left.
Its a tune I’ve heard three times so far in my short life.
The first was the last night I saw my father, standing in the cool breeze it flowed through the trees an eternal whisper that sent shivers down my spine. A tune only I could hear but I know he sensed as somehow he managed to sway the song to seduce the fleeing footsteps of a stronger man instead.
The second was when the greatest hero Arcadia had ever seen took a bullet that was meant for me. Bleeding and barely conscious, I had that twisted melody fill my mind yet the final chord struck down upon his soul instead.
For so long I feared that song, believing it was the soundtrack of my failures and the next time I heard it’s dulcet, mocking tones, that someone I cared for would have their strings plucked.
And when I heard it the third time strapped to your table of death, looking up at someone I respected who was played like a fiddle by the piper of death, I knew it was coming again.
Yet for the first time, the music of Muerte failed to cut down someone I cared about and the dynamic duo walked out as it furiously played in the background.
As I realized that the only reason people fear your song El Mariachi is because the tale of it’s doom gives you power. But what happens when I cut your strings and let Arcadia finally think for itself?
See, Olympus is tired of your musical stylings Mariachi, the same old dreary tune that becomes but white noise in the ears of all those who are crying out for something new to indulge in. The same four melodic chords that you haven’t adapted or changed in decades as your hold over the audience becomes thin.
From a world that’s dreaming of the song they truly need
See I’ve heard your so called inevitable tune three times already, your music has found me time and time again and like a phoenix I have risen through the melody to deliver one of my own.
As through the wind, the chill and the rain, the storm and the flood. You will feel every chord like there’s fire in your blood.
Overwhelmed by tune of Faith of a white knight on a burned stead that will show Arcadia once and for all that death will never be a constant reminder again
Because as long as they’re holding out for a hero,
My song will always eclipse yours.