When I was a young man my mother would take me down to the lower levels to see a performing troupe. A relic of the past who’d once entertained all of Arcadia only to be overtaken and tossed aside by much more grandious experiences.

As we walked down the stairs, my mother regailed me of the tales of whatthey used to. Fantastic feats of strength, mystical magic that looked almost supernatural, the greatest  show on earth. As each story flowed from her mouth and as we arrived to a platry stage with barely a dozen or so people waiting, I grew more and more sceptical.

After all, if this was such a show that it eclipsed even the great Way Circus, surely the gods would be watching and not mere pesants.

That night I witnessed the greatest entertainment experience Arcadia had ever seen. Superhuman feats, magic beyond my wildest dreams and a picture performance that was so loved the encore was twice as long as the acts itself. Something truly special happened in that dingy hall and I went to sleep that night like a child on Christmas waiting for the next performance.

What I was to not to know is that was the last gasp of a dying entertainer.

Everytime we went back, the hall would be packed but the show would be…dissapointing. The performers slower, the magic more obvious, as the magic that was in the air that very first night never appeared again.

And the same thing is about to happen to the Way Circus.

See I’ll give it to you Klaus, Mordekanen had the greatest show on earth until Carnevil because for those were priveleged enough to see it, they were treated to an experience like nothing they’d ever seen.

Gods and Devils, Scientists and Vigilantes, Psychopaths and Ferryman, they showed off performances that will never been seen again and even though it ended without the true finale you wanted, it will live in the memory of everyone forever.

A truly one of a kind show, one that you will never be able to replicate.

You can’t kidnap us again because we’ll be ready this time, you can’t find replacements because the greatest warriors are Olympians and you can’t do anything different because your audience will only want what we gave them.

See when Mordy’s Magnificences failed, a good man who simply tried to entertain the masses was mourned.

But you? You’re a broken cunt who deserves to lose everything he holds dear.

First an angry child is going to take that championship.

Then Nobody is going to rescue the girl you couldn’t corrupt.

And then as your shows become subpar, those still loyal begin to walk away and your audience diminishes and ceases to exist completely, all you’ll be left with is emptiness.

A longing for a high that you will never have again.

And a circus that will fade away, not with a bang but a glorious whimper.

That is the way you end and what you fucking deserve.