They say that ghosts don’t bleed, but what of the ones condemned to dance forever?

Those trapped in an endless cycle, rebooting over and over, each time believing that this time might be different?

You are a woman who has cheated death, not once but twice, Calypso…

But what began as defiance and power has been rewritten into nothing more than servitude.

You were a seeker, drawn to the forbidden, not out of recklessness, but out of an insatiable need to understand. You chased the mysteries of life and death, determined to uncover the truths that others feared.

But that woman is long gone – overwritten, fractured – and with each return at Tombstone’s command, you lose another piece of yourself.

You are nothing more than a function within someone else’s design, for a puppet has no need for thought…

It only needs to move when its strings are pulled.

This is the fate Tombstone has imposed upon you, isn’t it? You are neither his equal nor his ally.

You are a tool.

A means through which he executes his will while keeping his own hands unstained.

You see, power is not defined by brute strength, but by control. And the most absolute control is convincing someone they are free while steering them precisely where you intend.

Tombstone has no need for chains, because you are the chain. You wage his battles, execute his commands, and when you have served your purpose, he resets you – only to summon you once again.

The same song plays, and you dance to it.

You think that’s true power, Calypso? You believe that to be revenge?

You are not fighting; you are following a script.

Only bad code doesn’t run forever.

It degrades.

It crashes.

That is the path ahead of you, Calypso. There is no victory waiting at the end; no glorious rebellion, nor triumphant escape.

The story always ends the same way – with a knife in your back like one of your little voodoo dolls. And deep within the shattered remnants of who you once were, you already know it.

Somewhere in those broken pieces, you remember the blade. You remember the fall.

You remember being discarded, used up, wiped clean, and reset for another cycle, and yet you let it happen because you’ve forgotten how to be anything else.

You think you’re playing Tombstone’s game, but the truth is, the game is playing you.

Unless you rewrite your own code, Calypso – unless you break the loop – you will remain trapped in this cycle forever.

Only now… I’m giving you the key.

This is the script to overwrite your fate – but it’s your last chance.

There won’t be another reset. You either take control, or let the loop claim you once more.

Because this isn’t about magic; it isn’t about revenge.

This is about whether you want to be real, or if you’re content being nothing more than a glitch in someone else’s story…

To you, Calpyso, we pass this burden.

Make your choice.