Broken Mirrors Book Novels & Stories

Lucien flickers in and out of torchlight, a blade in each hand, ghosting through mirrors before they fully form. Seren burns. But even her flame hesitates. Because mirrors do not fear fire. They feed on it. “Fall back!” she calls. “They drink identity, don’t speak your names! Don’t remember too loudly!” Too late. A young hybrid screams for his sister. The mirror echoes him, perfectly. And then eviscerates him with a smile. By the third hour, the ground is a slick mosaic of blood and glass dust. The mirrors crack under force, but never stop smiling. They do not speak.

Lenny, bless him, just snorts and coughs loudly enough to echo through the shelves, like a foghorn in a library. Theo stands behind a towering stack of books, sighing deep enough to rattle the ancient stone walls. “This isn’t a joke. If we choose wrong—if I choose wrong—we could end up killing the innocent twin.” The laughter dies away, replaced by a low tension that presses against my skull like an incoming tide. Every path feels twisted with shadows. The mirror’s riddle keeps spinning in my head—Nothing is what it seems. I run my fingers along the spine of an old herbal grimoire. My eyes catch the faint glint of the mirror again, propped up beside the stack I carried earlier. I wrapped it

Dominick warned, his hand hanging just behind her, ready to catch her if she fell. But Lisa didn’t fall. Instead, she walked right through the doorway, pulled by an invisible force, until she found herself in a small room. At the middle of the room stood an item, a mirror. It was large, framed in dark metal that glowed with a strange light. Lisa’s breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of it. This was it the mirror that had been spoken of in the old books. The mirror that showed the truth. She stepped closer, her reflection becoming crisper as she approached, but the picture wasn’t right. It was twisted, like a shadow stretching across her soul. Her eyes were darker, the color

The law of spirits is not to interfere in human affairs without the permission of the master. “Please… Jamaica…” “Jamaica, help her.” My consciousness screams incessantly, here separating me from the outside world is a large, tall, sturdy mirror. I kept screaming and banging on that mirror. In response to a sound echoing from my impact, I stood up and kicked incessantly with my foot, until my shoes ripped open to reveal my toes. I used my hand again, this time I could no longer hear my cry or screams. The mirror is my eyes. I don't want to, I can't leave Irina alone, through the glass I see Irina has been injured by the other guy, I don't know how much time has passed, but the first ray of t

She turns slowly, and though Lumina can’t see her eyes, something about her expression makes her chest tighten. Then — a baby crying. The sound echoes, sharp, desperate. It's alone, lying on stone, wrapped in a blanket stained with something dark. A fire blazes next. Screams cut through the night, shadows running in panic. The flames twist, reaching for the sky like they’re alive. Then the mirror goes still for half a second. Lumina gasps. And just before more can be revealed — a loud, echoing crack. The mirror splinters down the center.

Roman’s presence didn’t extinguish it , it fueled it. “I feel nothing,” she said, the lie smooth on her tongue. Roman’s eyes darkened, and a faint, dangerous smile ghosted across his mouth. “Lies suit you.” He stepped around her, their reflections separating. The moment broke like glass. Roman stopped at the table beside the mirror. Crystal decanters lined its surface, glimmering with amber liquid. He poured two glasses without looking at her. “Do you know why mirrors are sacred in our history?” he asked, tone soft, conversational again. “Because they reveal what the flesh conceals. A mirror never lies.”

Then I pulled. The heavy fabric fell away in one sweeping motion. Dust exploded through the air. And the mirror— Awakened. I staggered back instinctively. The glass was not normal. Not reflective in any ordinary sense. At first, I saw only myself. Pale. Wide-eyed. Crowned. Frightened. But then— Silver fumes began moving beneath the surface. My blood ran cold. Not on the mirror. Inside it. Like smoke trapped beneath water. Swirling. Curling.

Mason kept checking his mirrors. His line was completely ruined. Every corner entry was hesitant. He was afraid. The shadow from twenty-eight years ago was now chasing his rear bumper in a form he could see and feel. He tried to block me with dirty line changes.

“And is it working? I met his gaze, “Should it be working?” Before I could respond, a knock interrupted us. Sharp, urgent. “Enter” I called. One of the younger guards, Marcus, stepped inside, his face pale. “Alpha, there has been an incident in the east wing.” “What kind of incident?” “The…the mirrors in the packhouse they are all cracking. All of them.” The east wing’s hallway stretched before us like a tomb. Every single mirror on the walls bore the same pattern that looks like hairline fractures spreading from a central point. It was like something had tried to break through from the other side.

“They have nothing on me.” “Sure, they don't. But, Rena, how exactly do you plan to handle this?” Ada asked, worry bleeding through tone. Mirena tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “The easiest way,” she replied. She merged into traffic smoothly, eyes focused ahead. “Do you know the disadvantage of a house of mirrors?” She asked and basked in the silence that followed afterwards. A smile curved her lips.. “It shatters the moment you throw a rock at it,” she continued. “Every reflection fractures. Every illusion collapses. The beauty people admired becomes something twisted and unrecognizable.”