Calypso sits somewhere out of sight in the Bayou. She’s holding a knife and running her fingers across it. She looks to you with a smile, as if she’s been expecting you.
Do you know who the first moun to out me as a black magic practitioner was?
She pauses briefly as her smile runs away from her face.
It was someone I once considered my best friend. I showed her a love potion that I was brewing in konfidans, acting under the belief that she wouldn’t expose who I was to the rest of the Bayou.
She lets out a sigh.
Not a day later, I was hung in the middle of this very level for my interests. The person I thought was my best friend led a mob to my home and tied a noose around my neck for all to see.
The Voodoo Child grips the knife tighter as she recalls the event.
Traitors like that are allowed to roam Arcadia without fear. Backstabbers live their lives unafraid of the consequences. Why should they feel afraid, anyway? Everyone that knows about their treachery is either dead or has long since forgotten about it.
Suddenly, she thrusts the knife into a nearby tree, lodging it in deep.
Beliefs like that are what lead to their demise by the hands of the House.
You might’ve believed you were safe from the konsekans of your actions, Muerte. You’ve betrayed your friends and had them either killed or forced to forget. That might’ve been the case for a little while, but your failure to eliminate Paragon has brought about not only the truth, but your coming death too.
Calypso chuckles.
As a result of your inability to silence him, you killing John the Revelator, Grimskull, and Drewitt came to light. Gemini, your only friend and companion, no longer trusts or loves you. You’re all alone, yet you think you have what it takes to take on Zeus and the rest of the House?
She silently shakes her head.
Mon chè, you are sorely mistaken. You’re marching to your death, with a majority of Six Feet Under and Queen Narcissa ready to punish you for your betrayals and failures, yet you still believe that this is a fight you can win?
My former best friend thought the same way not long after Tombstone rescued me. She thought she could do what my magic prevented and kill me.
She laughs, pulling the knife out of the tree with a grunt. Strangely, the knife is now covered in blood.
Well I’m sure you can guess how well that went for her, wi?
You’re to share the same fate. That’s just the hand you’ve been dealt. You’ll try to change it by amending your ways, washing your hands clean of the blood you’ve spilled as if it never happened in the first place.
Black Magic tuts.
But we’ll know the truth in the end, won’t we? Fortune favors the House this week, and House always wins.
She laughs again. You proceed to run away before she decides to jab the knife into you next.