A Mirror Mended Novels & Stories

EPISODE 1 — THE MIRROR The mirror hangs on the dressing room wall, framed in silver so heavy two men would struggle to move it from its mount. In the coffee shop where Mira’s life ended, the only mirrors were the small, smudged squares above the bathroom sinks — scratched with initials and hearts, reflecting faces tired from work and worry. Here, this glass is perfect, polished to a clarity that shows not just reflections but the faint ghost of what was there before. The silver frame carries cold like a block of ice pulled from winter water, and when she presses her palm against it, the metal leaves white marks on her skin that take seconds to fade.

“We don’t have any time for your guilt or your need to prove something. Celine needs you. But definitely not like this.” “H-how is this even possible?” I asked, my mind still on the face that they were communicating with me through the mirror. “Sorry but I can’t take my mind off it. What kind of mirror is this? And how is any of this possible?” The armored gut leaned forward slightly, his lips set in a thin line and his eyes annoyed like he wanted to reach for me and punch me in the face. “The mirror is cursed,” he replied, his tone bored. “And the way we were able to curse the mirror was because we found a gap in the bridge between hell and earth. It lasted lesser than a second which was sm

I did a good job, too, because it lay hidden there until my sophomore year when one phone call stripped those masks away, laying bare the Truth so I could see myself for what I was. *** As maybe you can imagine I avoid mirrors as much as possible. Can’t be managed all the time, obviously. I do have to shave, comb my hair and brush my teeth occasionally. There’s also the rear-view mirror in my cab, too. That’s somehow the worst. It focuses on my eyes. Everyone’s heard it by now. It’s used in countless stories, poems and movies when someone wants to sound insightful. Eyes are the windows to the soul. Cliché, but remarkably apt. I hate looking into my eyes. They’re dead and flat, which spooks m

"That is impossible. We severed the connection. We destroyed his soul fragment." "I know what we did," I said. "I felt it break. I felt him go. But this message says otherwise." Tarn picked up the mirror carefully. "The anchor remains. What does that mean?" Mira took it from him. She studied the glass, running her fingers over the surface. "It means there is something still out there. A piece of the binding. A remnant. Something that was never fully destroyed." My heart was pounding. "But how? We did everything right. The severing. The transfusion. He was gone. I felt him gone."

Aria could feel it pulsing in her veins, whispering secrets she didn’t yet understand. Kael walked beside her, his expression hard but unreadable. The cut on his arm from the mirror’s backlash still burned faintly, dark lines spreading from the wound like veins of shadow. Aria wanted to reach for him, to heal it, but the air between them crackled with unease. “We shouldn’t have destroyed it,” he said quietly. “The mirror was a key. A warning.” Aria’s voice was low. “It was a curse. It was feeding off us.”

It was only after I had thrown the work that I realised I had made a very terrible mistake because also doing so I tried to place the mirror back where I had taken it from since I always kept it with me and then I realised something that immediately made my brother to go and cold I have not heard from you for a walk and it was the mirror that have been gifted to me by both my mother and grandmother instantly and looked at the paper that was rushing slowly and lucky with shallow as well. I quickly got into it, scampering madly for that mirror and when I was done bathing myself and soaking up from head to toe I was finally able to find it but by the time I had plugged it up to the bank of the

he shrugged. She knew how rejection felt like but here is a man who helped her recover from her insecurities and gave her the courage to love again facing his own share of such disease. She wanted to make him get over his past the same manner he helped her. They approached a little glasshouse, her curiosity piqued, "Oh my... Is that a..?" He answered her question before she completes it. "A greenhouse, no one comes here anymore except the gardeners who take care of the flowers."

She pouted out of anger and asked him - "Is my face so bad that you have to keep adjusting your mirror?" Before Vikram could reply, Mike jumped in and said - "Jeez Akira, the purpose of the mirror isn't to look at people sitting behind . That happens only in your Rom-Coms", and then he started laughing hysterically . He thought Vikram would also join him in the laugh but he was dead serious . Utter silence prevailed in the car . The silence was so intense that it was almost deafening . Five minutes later Akira got an email and she screamed at the top of her lungs after reading it .

The last one… was Elara. Mira stepped forward, and the reflection moved with her. “You’re not me,” she said. The Elara-mirror smirked. “No. I’m what’s left of who you tried to bury.” Mira clenched her fists. “I buried her for a reason.” “She’s not gone,” the reflection said. “You absorbed her. You wear her bones.” Suddenly, the mirror cracked—from the inside. Black static spilled out. And Mira woke up screaming. Carl was at her side in seconds. “What is it?”

“Remember this: the mirror shows what is true. It shows what it wants. When you seek, be simple. One question. One answer. No bargains. No lies.” A watcher named Jorin put his palm to the black glass and whispered the name of a lost child he wanted to find. The mirror breathed and showed a small face, sleeping under a rock. Jorin’s eyes filled and he stepped away. “Good,” I said. “We will use the mirror to map. Not to bargain. Not to hunt power. It is a tool.” Night came and the castle lit with low fires. I walked the battlements and listened to the patrols. I felt the kingdom move. It was like an animal shifting in sleep. Small muscles tightened. It would wake with speed.