Bare Reflections Novels & Stories

Her hands reached upward, breaking the surface once, twice, before slipping below once more. Above, Petra watched, her chest heaving, but she didn’t flinch. When Lisa’s struggles slowed, when the water stilled into ripples, Petra finally turned away. She moved with purpose, her heels clicking against the marble. She knew the estate’s layout well. She spotted the camera near the pool and, with practiced ease, tugged the wires free. Darkness consumed the lens. By the time she slipped out, her expression was calm, as if she had merely attended a party.

A row of glass vials stands sentinel on a rickety shelf—each containing a unique essence: wolfsbane, moonflower, etc. But my purpose lies beyond these trinkets. I seek the “Mirror of Truth,” a fabled artifact said to reveal the soul’s darkest depths. It is wrapped in a red cloth, hidden beneath a stack of yellowed parchments. The cloth bears stains—perhaps blood, perhaps tears. I unwind it carefully, revealing the mirror’s polished surface. Its edges are jagged, as if it has been shattered and painstakingly pieced back together. As I gaze into the mirror, my reflection wavers. The room behind me blurs, replaced by a moonlit forest. The mirror does not merely reflect; it conjures memories. I

Ashborn crucified in mirrors. Sirelia smiling with no mouth. And the God Below whispering, “Reflection is the first betrayal.” She stumbles back. The vision fades. But her palm still smokes. Later that night, Emberhold holds silence. Not mourning. Listening. Because something in the fire has changed. And not all the dead are resting. Not anymore.

A shockwave rippled outward, washing over the Vale. When the light cleared, the survivors gasped. The crater was gone. In its place stood a single, perfect mirror. Seven feet tall. Silent. Waiting. Kael stared, blood running cold. His reflection didn’t move. Then it blinked. And whispered, “Come find me.” Far beyond the mountains, where the dawn was splitting itself apart, a different light flickered. Not sunlight. Not magic. Reflection. A figure stepped forward into a world made of mirrors — endless, shifting, alive. His shadow stretched across a fractured horizon, long and patient.

“We will also be able to sense each other a whole lot better. Know if we are in danger, or upset… A lot will improve.” I sat up and stared down at the lake. Tiny diamonds were reflected on the water. The moon was further to my right. The crescent image was not so clear but it was not hard to tell what it was. It swam at one spot and gave the lake some color in the dark. A crescent moon reflection. The moon was out here listening to our screwed up stories and wondering how we were going to fix it. I had no clue. But I was very sure that we were going to pull through. If what it takes is us moving mountains, then mountains we will move.

Crown HUD (quiet, ancient, satisfied): Ninth Piece Acquired: Winterglass Crescent Crown Integrity: 9 / 47 New Passive Unlocked: “True Reflection” → Illusions and mind-control effects reduced 80 % on you and allies within 50 m Active Skill: “Mirror Step” – 2/day, step through reflective surfaces (30 km range) The barn dissolves into soft, harmless snow. We’re outside again under a sky turning rose-gold with dawn. Ana kisses the bloodstone on my forehead—now visibly brighter, nine tiny lights orbiting the center diamond. Ana (soft): “Thirty-eight still wait, copila mea.

“Aren’t I? You’re too stubborn to see it, but this is how she binds you. Through reflection. Through guilt.” Rain started again, sudden and cold, pelting against their armor. The mirrored Kaelen looked up toward the red moon, its reflection dancing in his eyes. “Do you know what happens when two reflections meet in the same world?” Kaelen braced himself, silent. The reflection’s voice lowered. “One must shatter.” He lunged again. Kaelen caught the strike with his forearm, pain flaring as steel sliced skin. He used the opening to grab the mirrored wrist, twisting, driving his elbow into the double’s throat. The reflection staggered back, gasping—but didn’t bleed.

If Avery was just one ordinary werewolf, her bones would have been broke by how much strength Brylle put in it. Avery couldn’t take it anymore. Her eyes glow into golden yellow. “Get your hands off me, Brylle. Let me go while I am still asking nicely.” “I am sorry, L-Luna… I…” Avery’s eyes glow even more. “I said, let go!” Brylle immediately let go of Avery’s hand. “L-Luna…” he trailed off with an apologetic look plastered on his face. He was about to help Avery get up when Georgina suddenly interrupted.

Welcome… witness… reflection. Siran froze mid-step, feeling the vibration echo through her bones. Around her, the adepts of Hollowreach paused in awe. The youngest among them Nira held out her hand. Threads of bloomlight coiled toward her fingertips, tracing lines of light across her skin. “It’s alive,” Nira whispered. “It’s watching us.” Siran nodded slowly. “No. It’s remembering us.” They descended into a valley where the sand seemed to move on its own, folding into strange patterns spirals, circles, and waveforms that shifted as the group approached. At the center lay what looked like a mirror, half-buried and radiant, its surface rippling as though alive.

The first one lifts my face toward me and smiles without joy. One mirror hesitates at the edge of the formation. Not mercy. Recalculation. It is still the first human-looking pause I have seen from them. Above her, the relic tube swings again. Cracks spider across the glass.