Broken Mirrors Book 소설 & 이야기

I didn’t need a book to help me. As I was about to stand, my eyes caught the mirror I had taken with me from the MoonBorn pack and I paused, lifting the small object off the table and gazing into its broken frame. The mirror was already broken from all the struggles back in that terrifying forest. I still didn’t know why I had brought it with me when there was nothing special about it. It had a simplistic design and the only thing that made it peculiar was the carved initials on it. Yet seeing it reminded me of Laila and her stories about the Omega who became Luna.

“I didn’t expect you to be the killer. It wasn’t enough that you killed your parents-in-law. Why did you have to kill my mother too?” I looked at the three of them. They all had the same reaction. I froze for a moment. How was that possible? A mirror was just a mirror. It showed whoever stood in front of it. How could it show my face no matter who looked into it? But their grief did not look fake. What was so strange about that mirror? How could it make my wife, my trainee, and my neighbor all believe I was the killer? “I didn’t kill your mother. It wasn’t me.”

I closed my eyes and the memories of that night played back in my mind like I was in a cinema but the difference was that I was watching my life on a screen. It was on a Tuesday morning and I had just finished scrubbing Gerald's bathroom floor when he walked in with his mistress. He tapped her ass and she giggled in response. I looked away and quickly made steps to walk out when he called me. “Mira”. My heartbeat was loud enough for the whole world to hear. I was scared for my life. His voice was terrifying for me,it was my biggest nightmare.

The house seemed to hold its breath as she moved through the room, her footsteps muffled against the old floorboards. The mirror stood at the center, its frame dark and ornate, gleaming in the dim light. She had seen this mirror before, had felt its presence in her dreams, in the whispers of the house. This mirror was not just a reflection; it was a doorway. A doorway to the past, to the lives that had been lived in this house, to the women who had been trapped in its walls.

Each step left no shadow. In the distance, she could see them—fragments of glass jutting from the earth like the ribs of a fallen god. The Mirror Hall wasn’t a building. It was a ruin suspended between dimensions, half-solid, half-reflection. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “It’s a trap,” Kian replied grimly. “Probably both.”

Ivy whispered. They reached a set of double doors clad in tarnished silver. Ivy pushed them open. The hinges didn't scream; they let out a long, metallic sigh. The room beyond was a dressing chamber frozen in mid-breath. Dust motes danced in the candlelight like tiny, falling stars. But it was the mirrors that dominated the space—vast, towering sheets of mercury glass that lined every wall. Mercury glass, unlike modern mirrors, had a dark, liquid depth to it, a shimmering instability that made every reflection look like it was underwater.

Whispers of forbidden love and clandestine alliances painted a mosaic on the walls, and the very air seemed to vibrate with the essence of unresolved stories. The figure gestured toward an ornate mirror, its surface shimmering like a portal to another realm. "Reflections can be deceptive, yet they hold the key to unraveling the web of time," they murmured. As I approached, the mirror revealed glimpses of faces—my own, and others unknown. Each reflection hinted at a chapter in the saga, and the figure guided me through the reflections, unraveling the intricate knots of the narrative.

“Let’s see if I can survive being lectured by the cosmos now.” The forest melted again, and I found myself in a hall of mirrors. Thousands of them. Each one showing a different version of me, some powerful, some monstrous, some broken, some crying. Then a voice spoke, calm, female, and chillingly familiar. “What do you seek, Violet Black?” I looked around. “Survival?” “Lies.” The mirrors around me began to ripple, my reflections shifted, hundreds of them, all raising their hands to point at me, the same accusing glare on every face.

Then, the images snapped back to their previous patterns, as if the system had slammed a door on a feed it hadn’t meant to share. The enforcer‑me recovered first. “You can’t smash every mirror,” he said. “You’ll tear your hands apart long before you break the game.” “I don’t have to break *every* mirror,” I said. “Just the right ones.” I stepped past him. Past the shoreline version. Past the empty uniforms and the cruel futures and the comfortable lies. My knuckles throbbed with each step, blood smearing little comets across the floor. The maze hummed around me, irritated.

I looked up every so often to see Harry glancing over at me; I knew he was looking at me so I may as well draw and just let him work. The darkness began to creep on me; I didn't know where I was. Looking around, I saw boxes and cobwebs; it looked like it was an attic. I began walking around and came across a mirror that was broken; I stood in front of it and closed my eyes...I felt something there. The hatch to the attic opened, and a girl with a flashlight came in; the girl looked around and then looked directly at me. She turned to leave but then she turned back, "Who are you?" I went to answer but then,