Broken Mirrors Book Novels & Stories

Cold and welcoming, but just a bit too cold for my liking. Slowly, I closed the window, feeling the coldness of the glass against my palm, and suddenly realizing that I had been mistaken all along. Surprisingly, all this was real, as much as it seemed to be a dream, and as unbelievable as it seemed to me. "It's a mistake," I said out loud.

I couldn't stop thinking about how Jack called me a slut and how Aubrey just completely left me for dead out there. It’s not like any of this was really even my fault. After what felt like hours of more crying, I finally managed to fall asleep. ~3 hours later~ The sound of something banging against my window catches me by surprise, having me immediately jolt awake as fear begins to engulf me. What the fuck was that? I grow still against my sheets as the sound repeats itself, this time sounding more like a sequence of patterns. Is somebody here? Slowly, I make my way over to my window before slowly pushing open my blinds.

I didn’t hesitate. The chamber below was suffocating—lit only by veins of glowing quartz embedded in the walls. At the center stood the mirror. It was not constructed as a normal glass. It was ten feet high and its very edges were of obsidian teeth, and glimmered it did with a silver so deep it seemed to fall. The Mirror of Mercy. I approached it slowly. “What do I give?” “Blood,” Killian whispered behind me, his voice distant. I drew my knife, and cut my hand. When the blood spilt on the bottom of the mirror it became absorbed by the obsidian, just as water settles in the sandy desert.

🌑 Chains of Eternity The mirrors no longer looked like mirrors. What had once been flat panes of glass were now quivering surfaces, alive, as though the labyrinth itself was breathing. The ripples spread from one reflection to another until the walls shimmered like a dark ocean, swallowing light and sense alike. Mira’s reflection leaned forward, her face pressing against the glass until the surface stretched with her cheek and lips. Its voice no longer whispered—it hissed, sharp enough to cut:

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

"Emm... I'm Mirabel I said stammering. "Mira, nice name...are u a fresher? He asked looking me over from head to toe. "Of course, I'm even going to the auditorium for my last clearance. "Ohh, thought as much with the files on your hands, I'm walking towards that side. "Alright" I said clutching the files was holding on my chest as I caught him staring at my breasts. "Hope you don't mind me showing you around later, anytime you are chanced?

“Knowledge… it keeps calling me. Maybe it’s because we’ve lost something—our fear. Maybe the library holds the key to what that really means.” Stepbrother raised his head, overlays shifting between all four directions. “Data suggests: All paths converge eventually. Path selected now only determines interim test parameters. Recommendation: select based on rhythm alignment.” They all looked at me. The choice hung heavy, but without fear, it wasn’t paralyzing. It was simply… a step forward. “The mirrors,” I said finally. “We face ourselves.” --- The field stretched endlessly, mirrors rising from the ground at every angle. Some were cracked, others pristine, but all reflected not just us, but ve

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

Haneul suspected this was happening to LJ, who tend to spend too much time with humans for his own good. "She's here. Just try to focus. You can do it." Haneul told LJ, surveying their surroundings again. They were at a tiny bar somewhere in the outskirts of Munich. If their surveillance were correct, their target would be arriving any minute there to celebrate her birthday. This particular creature is a Mirror, one of the very few born on earth wearing Lilith's biological form. Mirrors were more dangerous than the ordinary Lilim, so they had to bide their time and observe. But it had been about an hour, and there was no sign of the Lilim anywhere.

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.