The Oculus- Font of Dreams and Judgement

[Snacks]

It is said that in the halls of Mola's demiplane, one may find a mirror to show every manner of thing- should they have the approval of its mistress. The goddess wanders those halls often, contemplating its endless array of mirrors. See this one, how it stretches to infinity! and another here, so small that the looker sees nothing but the gaze of their own eye, and all the secrets that it holds.

But it is not only things which exist in the now that may be seen in the Lady of Dreams' abode, where time is an abstract thing. Here she is in this one, gazing in a mirror of crystal clear polish and opulent frame, observing the darkness within. Beautiful darkness, bloodstained inventions and squandered gold; Black feathers blotting out the sky in perfect completion. She sees that this is correct, and she reaches in, removing the Crow that is her son. A single feather falls to her as the princely bird takes flight, and with this she weighs the scales of judgement, and in its image she assumes her shrouds and veils.

There the great Judge of All Life is again, gazing into the mirror opposite her son's. It is a worn and dim wretch of a looking-glass, its pane cracked and its frame covered in splinters. She looks at the splendor in its depths. There is laughter and celebration in it, lying eyes and glinting fangs. Wine and women and men and wonder. Sisters and sons and fathers stealing and killing for a little bit of gold, or land, or power. She sees that this is true, and into this mirror she also reaches. pulling out the Mask that is her daughter. She brings it to her and casts it into her great folly, the Dreamlands, to return glorious or die forgotten. In hope of its memory, she takes up her own focus and sigil, the great Eye of Vigilance.

In yet another mirror she is staring sadly at that same lonely mirror, the splintered frame cracked and broken off its hinges and the glass shattered beyond all hope of repair.

But in the glass before you, she is seated in a comfortable if spartan parlor surrounded, as ever, by her mirrors. Her invitation extended to those with the presence to find it and a willingness to see the truth if not necessarily to accept it.