2546 Background Character
Out there in front of the Great Mirror—a reflection of an illusion of the Great Mirror, to be precise—a man was sitting on the cold stone floor, strumming an old guitar. The slow, wistful melody echoed in the dim expanse of the vast chamber, reflecting from its distant walls. The dead silence that reigned in the depths of the mountain served as an opulent background for the melody, making each note feel full and rich. As Sunny and Effie entered the chamber of the Great Mirror, the man hummed in a low, pleasant voice.
"Mmmmm... mmmm... mmmmmm..."
Sunny did not know whаt he had expected the Castellan to look like. However, he definitely did not expect him to be wearing cheap, torn jeans and a faded windbreaker jacket. The man was sitting with his back to the gates, facing the covered mirror—so, they could not see his face. However, they did see that his hair was long and disheveled, in dire need of a brush and shampoo.
"Mmmmm... oh, all of us will dream... mmmm... the nightmare... of the..."
Sunny and Effie glanced at each other.
The Castellan—they were sure that it was him—looкed perfectly mundane. He did not show any signs of aggression, either, or any signs of having noticed them at all. Instead, he seemed completely focused on casually picking the strings of his guitar and humming a quiet song in the silence of the underground chamber.
That song was quite eerie, though. Sunny could not make out all of the words, but they sounded cold and ominous, even if the man singing them did not put any emotion except slight melancholy into his voice. Something about him looked familiar.
They moved forward cautiously, circling the Castellаn from both sides. When Sunny finally caught a glimpse of his face, he halted for a moment.
'I've seen him before...'
The man was not at all kempt, but his weathered face was handsome... subtly beautiful, even.
"Wait. Isn't he..."
Effie's voice sounded surprised.
She had a reason to be bewildered, too. 'Wait a minute:
As it turned out, the Castellan had been near them this whole time. Sunny could remember at least two instances of meeting him—or, rather, noticing him in the background. There were probably more that had gone unnoticed.
The man... was the street musician who had been playing his guitar near the Mirage City Center for Troubled Youths on the day they visited it. He had also been near the psychiatric hospital where Saint worked on the day they kidnapped the Other Mordret. In hindsight, his prеsence in both places was strange... what kind of musician would busk outside on a rainy day, when everyone was huddled inside? It made little sense. But Sunny had not paid him any attention. The ragged street musician had been merely one of the many nameless extras populating Mirage City... he had been nothing more than a part of the background.
So, they had seen him, walked past him, and failed to recognize him for what he truly was.
The Castellan. The custodian of the Palace of Imagination, and the ancient reflection who had usurped the authority over the Great Mirror.
However...
Those were not the only two times Sunny had seen this man. Effie might have been surprised because she recognized the Castellan as the unassuming street musician, but Sunny had a different reason. In truth, he had seen him even before coming to Mirage City.
The street musician was older, and his face was much more weathered. The clothes were different, and his hair was much longer now. The lower part of his face was covered by a beard, which had not been there before—but there was no mistaking it.
Sunny had seen him in one of the visions bestowed upon him in Ariel's Game.
"He's Omer of the Nine."
His voice sounded even.
Indeed, the Castellan was none other than one of the Nine—a blind poet famed for his songs, who joined Prince Eurys and the rest of them in the quest to slay the gods.
By now, Sunny knew or at least suspected what missions some of the Nine had been meant to complete. Aletheia had been tasked with finding the truth in the depths of Ariel's Tomb. Aemedon the Sculptor had been tasked with building a trap for the gods by delivering that truth to the Demon of Destiny. Orphne... Slayer... had been giver the gravest task of all—to kill Weaver, the Demon of Fate.
In which she had succeeded twice.
Eurys had become a slave. And while the details of Auro's mission were still unknown, it was apparently the most distressing of them all.
Sunny did not know what task the blind poet, Omer, had received either. However, he knew that Omer's fate had been to become lost in illusions. Now, he understood what that meant...
Omer of the Nine had been sent to the realm of Mirage, the Demon of Imagination. His purpose was unknown, but it had probably been tied to convincing Mirage to answer Nеther's call and fight side by side with his siblings in the Doom War. Daemons were not the most affectionate of siblings, after all. Nether himself had ignored Hope's imprisonment for a thousand years. So, if one thought about it, it was actually strange that all of them—all except Weaver—had risen up against the gods together.
'Some of the Nine must have been sent to other daemons, as well... like Omer."
As Sunny walked past the Castellan and saw his face clearly, he also saw something far more morbid. In front of the seated man, fourteen human eyes were placed in a half-circle, staring at him with glassy pupils.
Effie cursed quietly.
'The victims of the Nihilist... were all missing their eyes.
So that was where the missing eyes had gone.
Sunny felt a chill run down his spine.
At that moment, the Castellan fell silent and stopped playing his old guitar. He remained motionless for a few seconds, then raised his head and looked at Sunny.
His own eyes were clear and blue like the sea.
"I am not Omer of the Nine."
The Castellan's voice was calm and emotionless.
"I am merely the reflection of Omer of the Nine. I am the custodian of the Palace of Imagination."
Sunny shivered. It was not every day that he had a conversation with an Other... well, technically, he had conversed with numerous of them here in Mirage City over the last few days, but he had never spoken to one who knew their nature.
'The reflection of Omer of the Nine...'
Why was the reflection of one of the Nine serving as a custodian of Mirage's palace? He lingered for a while, then said in a subdued tone:
"Well, you haven't been doing your job well, have you? The place is a mess."
The Castellan remained silent.
Sunny and Effie exchanged glances.
Now that they had found the ancient reflection, they were supposed to get the authority over the Palace of Imagination back to Effie, somehow. The easiest way would be for her to destroy the Castellan, most likely... but Sunny was not sure how powerful the Castellan was, and therefore whether they would be able to shatter him. Could they convince him to surrender the authority voluntarily? That would be the best outcome, since Effie would be able to use the Castellan to draw much more potential from the Palace of Imagination then. However, Sunny did not know if the reflection of Omer of the Nine could be convinced, either.
In any case, they did not have much time to try.
The Castellan finally spoke:
"..My Mistress is away."
This seemed to be his answer to the accusation of not maintaining the Palace of Imagination properly — this reflection had been designed to help the Castle Master control the Great Mirror, after all, not to control it in their master's stead.
Effie scoffed.
"Who is away? I am the master of the Castle, and therefore your master as well. Yet, not only did you fail to assist me, you even stole my authority and tried to kill me. No wonder this whole place has collapsed. Do you see the problem here?"
The Castellan stared at her silently.
"You are wrong."
'He doesn't seem to be blind anymore... at least not here, in the Palace of Imagination: Could Mirage have imagined a world where the blind could see?'
While Sunny considered that small detail, Effie raised an eyebrow.
"I'm wrong? What am I wrong about?"
The Castellan lowered his gaze.
"I only have one Mistress — Mirage, the Demon of Imagination. And you are not her. The castle you rule is nothing but a shell... the illusory one is the moat, and the true one is the gate. Both merely lead to the Palace of Imagination. The Palace of the Demon of Imagination, the place where my Mistress resided and ruled, has always been the Great Mirror."
Sunny smiled.
The Castellan was mistaken, of course. There had been a time before Mirage created mirrors, so Bastion was far more ancient than the Great Mirror. It did not matter which had come first, anyway — now that the Spell made the Castle into a Citadel, they were all inseparable.
It was interesting that this ancient reflection suffered from such a delusion, though...
Nevertheless, Sunny had sensed a note of stubbornness in the Castellan's voice when he denounced Effie's claim to authority over the Great Mirror and proclaimed that he would only ever serve Mirage. It did not feel like challenging his stance directly would be fruitful... but there was also a vulnerability there that could be exploited.
Instead of pressing the reflection of Omer of the Nine on this issue, Sunny looked at the covered expanse of the replica of the Great Mirror.
"Why is the reflection of one of the Nine serving the Demon of Imagination, anyway?"
The Castellan remained silent for a while. Then, he carefully plucked the strings of his guitar.
".It was because my Mistress has become lost in her own illusions. She abandoned the real world, preferring the company of reflections. A fantasy upon fantasy — she lived countless lives in the Palace of Imagination, not caring about what happened outside its walls. And she was happy.'
His quiet melody turned wistful.
"But what to do? The Nine needed the Demon of Imagination to join the other daemons in their Rebellion. And so, Omer came to the shores of the Mirror Lake. Who better was there than a poet famous for his tales and songs? Mirage took an interest in him because of how vibrant and inexhaustible his imagination was. And so, she invited him into her Palace.'
The Castellan stopped playing and lоoked into the distance.
"She gave him control of the Great Mirror, so that he could bring his stories to life. Omer created a fantastical realm for her to explore, and a thrilling story for her to experience. Mirage enjoyed his fantasy greatly... but eventually, she grew bored with it. She wanted to reward the blind poet and send him away, but he offered to imagine another fantasy — and with her permission, he did. And then another, and then another.'
His gaze grew distant.
"A thousand realms, a thousand tales. No matter how much Mirage tested Omer, his imagination never exhausted itself, just like her sense of wonder and hunger were inexhaustible. They experienced a thousand fantasies together... and when the thousandth fantasy came to an end, Omer made a request to Mirage."
The reflection of Omer put his guitar on the floor.
"So, the Demon of Imagination gave him a final task... she told him to imagine something that she could not imagine herself. Even I do not know what Omer showed her in that final illusion — but when that illusion was eventually dispelled, Mirage left her palace and joined her siblings in the rebellions against the gods. Omer followed her into war, as well."
The Castellan looked at Sunny with emotionless eyes.
"Only I remained.'
Sunny smiled faintly.
'What a gorgeous story it is..."
But despite the breathtaking story, his voice sounded cruel:
"Mirage died in that war, you know. And Omer must have died with her."
He looked down at the Castellan and said evenly:
"You say that your Mistress is away, but you are the one who lured her out, into a hopeless war. You claim to be loyal to Mirage, but you were the one who destroyed her happiness. You killed her. You are a hypocrite, Omer. Ah, I really hate hypocrites the most."
Only then did the Castellan's gaze finally show hints of emotion.
The Castellan's eyes quaked.
He remained motionless for a few moments, then turned his glassy gaze to Sunny. There seemed 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 Omer 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 time 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 seemed 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 come closer.
Needless to say, that was a bizarre and distracting feeling — enough so that he momentarily lost his train of thought.
'Ah. I see.'
It took him a few moments 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 moment, 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 moments, motionless, then turned back to the Castellan. His heart was beating rapidly, but no sign of agitation showed on his face. "You are not Omer 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 assume that a reflection had a mental state, but if it did... the Castellan's mental state was weakened.
If Sunny convinced the Castellan that he had betrayed the Mistress he claimed to be eternally loyal to a long time 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 some 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 Castellаn lingered for a while. Eventually, he said in an oddly quiet voice: "Something... I am afraid of."
Sunny raised an eyebrow. Effie seemed surprised, as well.
"Afraid of? What can the being in control of the Palace of Imagination fеar within its walls?"
The Castellan watched the black fabric move faintly in the ghostly wind.
His answer was succinct.
"Something beyond my control."
Sunny frowned.
At that moment, 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 time.'
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 mental assault, but at that moment, 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 numerous days dreaming about being free. I imagined it so vividly and so often that, at times, I was almost able to believe that it was real."
Effie smiled.
"And then, slowly, it did become real. I was able to make all my fantasies come 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 come 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 shame."
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 someone new, or will you betray her memory by remaining the same? The choice is yours... but I really hope that you will choose the former. I hope that you will help me make my fantasy come true."
She looked at him with an earnest expression, and meeting her gaze, the Castellan seemed 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...
Something glinted in Effie's eyes, and then reflected in his.
A second later, the Castellan shuddered.