The Castellan's eyes quaked.
He remained motionless for a few monts, then turned his glassy gaze to Sunny. There seed to be a hint of an emotion hiding behind the cold stillness of his blue eyes, but Sunny was incapable of recognizing what it was.
“I am not Or of the Nine. I am the reflection of..."
Sunny interrupted him:
"Yes, yes. I know."
Turning away, he glanced at the Great Mirror. Now was the ti to press the attack and break the Castellan's conception, but he lingered, suddenly distracted by an odd feeling.
The Great Mirror...
It was calling to him.
It seed to be exerting a subtle pull on his soul, but apart from that, it was pulling him closer quite literally. Sunny felt as if the Great Mirror was a magnet, and his body was made of iron.
It was as if his blood pressed against the walls of his veins, pushing him to co closer.
Needless to say, that was a bizarre and distracting feeling — enough so that he montarily lost his train of thought.
‘Ah. I see.’
It took him a few monts to understand what was happening.
His blood had a peculiar quality thanks to Blood Weave - its parts always strived to fuse back with the whole. That was the reason why he hardly bled... and at the mont, his blood wanted to reunite with another lost part.
There, behind the black fabric covering the Great Mirror, another piece of Weather's lineage was waiting for him.
‘I found it.’
Sunny allowed himself to feel the thrill of having accomplished his goal. He stared at the Great Mirror for a few monts, motionless, then turned back to the Castellan. His heart was beating rapidly, but no sign of agitation showed on his face. “You are not Or of the Nine... but you were him, once. So, is there a difference?"
The Castellan fell silent. His gaze remained inexpressive, but Sunny knew that the ancient reflection was troubled.
It had already been in a sorry state after being abandoned for thousands of years, slowly coming undone — and now, its condition grew even worse because of the clash of human desires it had been forced to endure.
It was strange to assu that a reflection had a ntal state, but if it did... the Castellan's ntal state was weakened.
If Sunny convinced the Castellan that he had betrayed the Mistress he claid to be eternally loyal to a long ti ago... then perhaps, just maybe, the ancient reflection would accept a new master.
Not because the previous one was not worthy of being served, but because the Castellan was not worthy of serving her. Were reflections capable of feeling guilt? Beastie, the first Reflection created by Mordret, had never stopped searching for its sealed master. So, the others could feel so emotions, after all... or were at least capable of learning to feel them.
‘We shall see.’
Still conscious of the Great Mirror behind him, Sunny failed to suppress a question. Glancing at it briefly, he asked in a false tone of indifference:
“Why did you cover that mirror, anyway? What's behind that cloth?"
The Castellan lingered for a while. Eventually, he said in an oddly quiet voice: "Sothing... I am afraid of."
Sunny raised an eyebrow. Effie seed surprised, as well.
“Afraid of? What can the being in control of the Palace of Imagination fear within its walls?"
The Castellan watched the black fabric move faintly in the ghostly wind.
His answer was succinct.
"Sothing beyond my control."
Sunny frowned.
At that mont, a subtle tremor shook the great underground chamber. Streams of dust fell from the ceiling, and with them, a few drops of cold water. The Castellan did not seem to react to it in any way, but Sunny and Effie felt differently.
‘There's no ti.’
Sunny had to break the Castellan's resolve rapidly — or, if that failed, help Effie destroy him.
He opened his mouth, wanting to continue his ntal assault, but at that mont, Effie suddenly walked over to the sitting reflection, knelt beside it, and put her hand on his shoulder.
Looking into the Castellan's eyes, she then said:
“Hey. You know, I am no stranger to seeking escape in fantasies. In fact, I spent most of my life endlessly imagining wondrous things: being healthy, being strong, being able to move... not being a burden. I spent nurous days dreaming about being free. I imagined it so vividly and so often that, at tis, I was almost able to believe that it was real."
Effie smiled.
“And then, slowly, it did beco real. I was able to make all my fantasies co true, one after another. But imagination is indeed inexhaustible, and so, I imagined new things: I imagined a world where my children would be able to thrive, one that they would not want to escape as desperately as I had wanted to escape mine... I am still working on making this particular fantasy co true. My imagination is my greatest source of inspiration."
She glanced at the Castellan and shook her head.
"But what have you, the faithful servant of the Demon of Imagination, done with yours? Thousands of years have passed, but you haven't managed to imagine yourself as anything other than what you were. You imagined nothing... you haven't changed at all. You put your Mistress to sha."
Effie gripped the Castellan's shoulder and said quietly:
"Mirage is gone, and she is never coming back. Now, you have a choice — you can decide what you want to be without her. Will you imagine yourself as soone new, or will you betray her mory by remaining the sa? The choice is yours... but I really hope that you will choose the forr. I hope that you will help make my fantasy co true."
She looked at him with an earnest expression, and eting her gaze, the Castellan seed to hesitate.
He remained silent for a while, looking into her eyes with a lost, weary expression. Sunny remained silent and entirely still, afraid to distract the ancient reflection from making a decision. And he could feel it — Sunny could easily imagine that the Castellan would make the right choice.
But just before he did...
Sothing glinted in Effie's eyes, and then reflected in his.
A second later, the Castellan shuddered.
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