The Castellan's eyes trembled.
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 looked at the Great Mirror.
Now was the time to press the attack and break the Castellan's conception, but he lingered, suddenly distracted by a strange 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.
