Many Years Ago
“Do you hereby swear to uphold the values of The Third Eye?”
The Altar stands before us. A man kneels before it, head bowed, surrounded by cloaked figures.
“Do you agree to cede use of your mortal eyes in order to be granted access to your Third Eye?”
The voice of the elder speaks, as he raises an iron poker before the altar, it’s end bright with molten heat.
“I do.” The kneeling man replies.
“Then, Vincent. You must give yourself to us now.”
Screams erupt from the kneeling man as the poker is pressed into his eyes.
…
Present
Vision stands before the very same altar. An altar on which he now stands, holding the very same poker.
“What must be done is necessary. It is not easy, nor is it popular.”
He runs his fingers over his face, feeling the void that once housed his worldly eyes.
“I see a jar.”
“Within the jar are a collection of ants. Some ants are red and some are black, living alongside each other in unaware bliss.”
“Red or black, the ants are blind to the truth.”
Vision feels along the altar, picking up a glass jar.
“As soon as the jar is shaken, we see the true nature of the ants. Red ants band together, seeing the black ants as a threat which must be silenced. So they attack.”
“Black ants see the red ants as a threat to everything they have built. So they too will attack.”
“Like lambs to slaughter, they fight to kill each other until none are left standing.”
Vision shakes the jar in his hands, the ants within scurrying about. There is a distinct change in behaviour.
“As it is with ants, so it is with Arcadia.”
“We exist, fighting to the death inside Olympus. Setting red ant against black ant, they sit back and watch. Knowing the ants are blind to the true enemy of the ant – the one who shakes the jar.”
His fingers cast over the iron poker once more. Dipping it into a waiting pool of bubbling molten liquid, the end soon burns brightly.
“Because of this rod, I can see the jar for what it is. I can see the ants, primed ready for battle.”
“Each ready to kill to be the last ant standing.”
He smiles as he feels the heat of the poker.
“What I’ve come to realise is that merely seeing the truth isn’t enough. I am still an ant, like the rest of them. When that jar gets shaken, as it will at Pandemonium, I will sense the danger like any other ant.”
“I must do what is necessary, not what is easy. To break the jar and free Arcadia from the lies it’s been fed, I must fight along with all the other ants.”
“Not a red ant, nor a black ant. The blind ant, the only one who truly sees.”
Vision brings the poker down upon the jar, shattering it.
“It is that sight which will set me apart from the other ants. For only by surviving the jar can it be shattered.”