"Me?" Noble felt her mind race.
Did he mean her specifically? Noble didn't think so. At least she was not so narcissistic to believe that across all time and every Realm that she alone was the person whom Mirage could not imagine. So what else could it be?
The future? The way she would die? That wouldn't make someone want to join a war, would it?
Unless, in doing so, she was able to protect these Others. Could she have loved them enough to sacrifice herself?
Were Daemons even capable of that level of self-sacrifice?
Or did the custodian mean something else entirely?
'Is he talking about me being a carrier of the Spell?' Noble shook her head. Although the Spell did not seem to exist in this time—at least not in its current form—Noble did not think it would reveal itself like that.
Even then, would that be something that would interest a Daemon enough to enter a catastrophic war?
The more Noble thought about it, the less sense everything made.
That is when she noticed that the custodian didn't seem to be looking directly at her. Had he returned to the blind state of the original? Or was he looking at something Noble couldn't see?
She glanced covertly over her shoulder but found only Aether, who shrugged in response. He was just as clueless as she was.
The custodian continued, oblivious to the human's thoughts.
"Ah, but I do not know for sure. Omer kept the secret to himself, which is just as well. I could never join the war. My place is here while my mistress is away. I must keep the palace ready for her return. But I cannot do it alone…"
Noble latched onto the last words, many things suddenly making sense.
"You need another mistress in her absence."
The custodian arched his brow. "I will only ever have one mistress. I was made for her and her alone. What I need is a steward until she returns."
'A steward!'
Wasn't that the title of Syrce's father before his death? And Syrce had referred to herself and her sisters as stewards as well when they first met.
'Is steward an official title or an honorary one?' Noble realized too late that her question had leaked through the Memory.
'I'm trying to focus! But it is an official title. Or at least it was.' Syrce answered tersely.
If the Custodian knew that, which it seemed he did, then it made sense why he had latched on to Syrce so significantly. He viewed her as a fellow servant of Mirage and the one who could help him... help him do what exactly?
"Why do you need a steward like Lady Syrce?" Roan had not heard the woman call herself a steward, but he had been able to connect the dots just the same.
"The Palace needs to be kept while my mistress is away. Lady Syrce's desires will be fulfilled in return for her services." The custodian laid out the proposition.
So that is what had happened! The advisor had viewed all of this as merely a business transaction. The Other needed someone's fantasies to fulfill while Mirage was gone.
Either the Other Omer had tricked Maelys with his honeyed words, or, more likely, she had believed that the exchange was worth it if it could truly bring them peace and prosperity.
And the custodian had followed through to give the Syrce everything she wanted, including her dear departed sister. There was only one problem with the Advisor's method.
It was all an illusion. A beautiful lie.
What was with this Nightmare and lies? Was that all imagination was- a falsehood one chose to entertain for a moment?
No, it was only when the fantasy was believed as truth that it became a lie.
The Advisor was selling falsehood as truth. That needed to stop.
"Your promises are empty, Reflection Omer." Noble clicked her tongue. "Your mistress might have enjoyed living a thousand fantasies, but she still knew they weren't real."
Omer had no response to that. He shook his head, beginning to hum again.
Noble felt her anger growing. "Leave Syrce alone. Recall your Others to your mistress's palace, and leave humanity in peace!"
Omer tapped his fingers on his cane in time to the music. "There will not be peace until my mistress returns. Until then..."
"Until she does, you will hold Syrce captive and fulfill her desires even if it is against her will?" Noble aired her frustration at the man in the glass.
"It is the steward's duty to do our lady's bidding. Lady Syrce should be honored to take on the task." The wind in the idyllic scene tousled his hair, making his words and mannerisms seem extra inviting.
"I don't want the task!" Syrce's grey eyes crackled with energy. "If I had known what you wanted…"
"You would still have accepted." Omer nodded slowly.
"You don't know that." Noble countered.
Omer's brows knit together. The wind in the mirror picked up slightly as the sunlight above his head dimmed.
"What I do know is that Lady Syrce linked herself to the Great Mirror." He turned toward the Saint. "Your duty is binding. In exchange, I will continue to make your dreams come true."
"The dreams you have made have turned to Nightmares. My people are dying at the Others' hands."
"I can replace what has been taken," the custodian promised. "You will lack nothing. Now come, your task is better done on this side of the mirror. Please follow me."
The Other Omer was so confident in his words that he held out his hand, pressing it up against the glass.
"No! I will never go with you and abandon my people."
Syrce stepped back. The mirror fell from her garment and clattered on the floor.
She picked it up and clutched it to her chest.
The Saint began reciting the silent words she had practiced aloud.
They filled the room, clattering and clanging against unseen walls of the cavernous room.
Noble held her breath. This was it, or so she thought.
But the custodian tilted back his head and laughed.
"You cannot complete that magic without me. And now that the mirror is completed, I will not dismantle my mistress's looking glass."
"Your trick to contain it is clever, but it will not last." Omer smiled, reaching out his hand a second time. "Now, come complete your duty, Steward."
"No!" Syrce fell to her knees as her spell fell flat. "A gilded cage, however nice, is not the path I choose. I will not be a slave to the Great Mirror."
Clouds covered the sky of the idyllic scene in the mirror. The wind began to blow in earnest, whipping around in a warning cry of an incoming hurricane.
The air in the Hall of Imagination swirled too, pushing against the Masters as an invisible threat.
"Perhaps there can be some negotiation," Noble held up her palm against the breeze.
"There will be no negotiation. Your time here is through, Lady Bel. Say goodbye to Syrce now, and you and the other warriors may leave peacefully." Omer's voice was both quiet and intolerably loud.
"And if we don't?" Noble challenged.
Omer shook his head sadly, "Then you will never leave at all…"