It is said that you should never meet your heroes, for you will always be disappointed.

A Mariachi elder played the most famous instrument in all of Anthesteria, he called Las cuerdas divinas. As a young child, I would watch his fingers dance over those strings, listening to the beautiful sound it made.

Dios mío, how I coveted that guitar.

I grew up worshiping that guitar and the power it had over everyone who heard it.

For years, I wanted to touch it, hold it, play it – that was my dream.

Until I got the chance.

♫ There goes my hero,
Watch him as he goes ♫

The years had not been kind to that old guitar. Over time, it had weathered and cracked, the wood warped and its tone which was once a thing of beauty had become tinny.

It simply was no longer Las cuerdas divinas I remember.

You are like that old guitar, El Dragón Caido.

As a young child, I would watch the luchadors of old. They were my heroes, and you Draco… You were the best of the best.

The shining star of my childhood.

Dios mío, how I coveted Draco. He was a legend and I wanted to be just like him.

But Zeus took away everything you had spent a lifetime building, and your song faded into obscurity. Preserved in legend for a young mind looking back on childhood memories.

And you’ve been lost ever since… playing an old song that Arcadia has long since forgotten. Hanging onto your legacy by desperately clinging to some shred of relevance. Clawing at a future that has passed you by.

Holding onto your past is merely a song played on repeat.

Just like that old guitar, the years have not been kind to you. They have weathered you. So when I look into your eyes behind that mask, I cannot see the hero you once were. I see that dusty, broken old guitar… and I feel disappointed in what you have become.

That behind that mask, Ya no eres un héroe para mí. You’re no hero, Draco.

♫ There goes my hero…
He’s ordinary ♫

They say you shouldn’t meet your heroes… but it is better to know who you put on that pedestal.

To know who exactly you’ve spent your life aspiring to be.

There is much hurt in your song, Draco, much blame. And as much as you blame Zeus for taking away your legacy, you’re no different to him.

Preserving that which you built off your blood, sweat and tears at all costs.

You’re simply a different kind of preservationist.

But he who seeks will find… and I seek a better song.

I’m done playing the song of my childhood hero, now that I notice how ordinary he is. Just like everyone else, you’re scared of losing your identity.

I’m here to play my song, not yours.

A new song, played to wake Arcadia up. Not  to preserve legacies of old guitars that used to be something special. Ahí va mi héroe, él es ordinario.