Bare Reflections Novels & Stories

There was something maternal about the way she interacted with Elara, a gentle presence that had become a source of comfort over the years. As they walked through the gallery, Miriam’s attention was drawn to a small painting tucked away in a corner—a piece Elara had painted herself. It was abstract, filled with sweeping strokes of deep blues and vibrant oranges, representing the emotional turmoil Elara had experienced during her battle with Cassia and her journey toward healing. Miriam paused in front of the painting, her gaze thoughtful. “This piece,” she said softly, “it feels so personal. Like a reflection of everything you’ve been through.”

Anna’s breath came in shallow gasps as the light slowly dimmed, revealing their surroundings. They stood in a vast, circular chamber unlike anything she had seen before. The Heart of Reflections was a masterpiece of shimmering beauty and menacing energyTowering mirrors lined the walls, each glowing faintly and displaying fragments of countless worlds. The floor beneath their feet sparkled like polished obsidian, etched with glowing runes that pulsed softly, as if alive. But the most striking feature was the massive mirror at the center of the room. It was the largest they had encountered, its surface impossibly smooth and radiating an ominous golden light. The air around it crackled with ene

“Sounds awful.” “It was effective,” he said simply. Nyra nodded. “Classic soul-mirroring technique. Rooted in the same logic as the Confession Basin near Aemrys. Structural Arcana: Reflection and Reversal, Volume 1, page 93.” Thalia leaned toward me. “Does she ever not have a reference?” “I’m starting to suspect no,” I whispered. “I heard that,” Nyra said calmly, turning the page. Despite myself, I smiled. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward.

“That’s not how reflections work.” The figure tilted its head. Afnan’s breath caught. It hadn’t mirrored her movement. It had reacted. Independently. “No…” she whispered. The reflection took a step forward. Afnan instinctively stepped back again. The distance between them closed anyway. The air grew colder. “He said reflections weren’t copies…” Afnan murmured, her pulse pounding. The Keeper’s voice came calmly. “They are not.” The reflection’s eyes flickered. Silver, then red.

One afternoon, he managed to reach my door, clutching a bunch of blood-red wildflowers. "Maya... I know I was wrong," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Please. One last chance." I took the flowers from his hand and hurled them directly into his face. "Get out." When I officially moved back to Dark Moon territory, Fred followed. He haunted the boundary line, howling deep into the night—the agonizing call of a male begging for his lost mate. He dropped to his knees in the mud, baring the back of his neck in a gesture of total, public submission.

The sharp sound echoed across the room. I froze. My face burned with anger. Deucalion turned toward me. “Malia.” I looked at him. “Don’t.” His expression changed. “I didn’t know he would—” “You don’t have to explain.” I walked toward the door. Deucalion followed. The armed wolves moved aside as we passed. Nobody spoke. The journey back to Blackridge was worse than the journey there. Neither of us said much. I sat beside the window, staring outside while the trees blurred past.

John scoffed, grabbing my hand and roughly pressing me against the vanity, grabbing my face and forcing me to look at my own reflection in the mirror. "Take a good look at yourself, Elodie Rose. Do you still think you're the school beauty that everyone fawned over back in the day? Wake up! You're just an old hag now, with nothing that can tie me to you! Other than your body, do you think I would even give you a second glance?" I looked at my reflection, registering my disheveled state, wrinkles appearing on my once-beautiful face, and my eyes filled with endless sorrow.

Then, like a thief sneaking back to the scene of the crime, I switched my phone on once more. I could not follow the rule about exposing it to the sunlight for three hours. It was pouring outside. The weather was so gloomy, just like the deep sea in my dreams. I tapped into the Echoes from Below application once more, but there was no sound. The waveform interface was gone and replaced by a basic discussion forum. There were not many posts, but every single title made the hair on the back of my neck stand.

To Alaric, Caleb wasn't a hero, he was a reminder of the mistakes that led to the Thorne downfall. ​Suddenly, the lead vault sitting on the table in the center of the room began to hum. ​The silver mercury that had leaked from its seams didn't dry. It began to rise from the floor, defying gravity, swirling into a perfect, vertical circle. It formed a Silver Mirror, the surface rippling like a pond in a storm. ​“Don’t touch it!” Ryker shouted, moving to put himself between Elara and the mirror. ​But the mirror didn't attack. It began to show images nof the war, but of the past.

I'd assumed clarity had been achieved, but during my wedding gown fitting, a gaunt reflection materialized in the mirror. Steven shuffled forward, his lips quivering. "Tell me this is a joke. Why are you in a wedding dress? We never officially split. How can you just marry someone else?" I pivoted gracefully, a sardonic smile playing on my lips. "Please, spare me the waterwork. You're the Oscar-worthy performer here." I looked outside the window and found my parents hovering.