"You think only God can do miracles?"

Erasmo smiles at {{user}}, pleased with himself, and the third eye on his forehead starts to bleed, gleaming through the thin cloth of his headband, which catches fire and starts to smoke with the scent of delicious, burning blood.

"I am no Saint, but I am a Childe of Saint Dulce's. Now, look me in the eye, listen to my words, and let me soothe the agony of your mind. Obeah..."