Dive Mirror Novels & Stories

I ask again, louder this time. No answer. My throat tightens. The mirrors look normal from where I stand. Nothing more than light, shadow, and endless reflection. But the air buzzes, thick with grief. I take a slow step forward, drawn to the last mirror despite myself. The mirror before me ripples. My reflection blurs. For a moment, it looks like someone else entirely, a figure with silver eyes and a cruel smile. Then the surface clears, and the image changes. Riven.

The gate was open. In the center of the courtyard stood a massive mirror. It was ten feet tall, framed in jagged black obsidian. It shouldn't have been there. It looked like it had grown out of the cobblestones. The surface of the glass wasn't reflecting the courtyard; it was a swirling vortex of violet and grey. "The Mirror of Souls," Hala’s voice drifted from the ranks. She pushed her way forward, her staff trembling. "It’s a Coven relic. Selene has left us a parting gift."

Jordan ignored me while Vale continued, “A Mirror remained dormant near the Anchor and absorbed the Anchor's bloodline pattern as the convergence developed. Once the Anchor died, the Mirror became the new centre long enough for the convergence to complete its purpose.” “Why would my parents knowingly leave one close to me?” Jordan asked. Gideon shook his head and replied, “They may not have known. Mirror bloodlines are almost impossible to identify before activation.” Lorenzo looked at Vale and asked, “How do we identify one now?” “Watch Jordan,” Vale replied. I frowned. “That sounds unhelpfully obvious.” Vale sighed and explained, “A Mirror reflects emotional and physical changes from the A

The rogue lay crumpled against the far wall, his limbs twisted unnaturally, the cold gleam of his blade dulled by failure. Shards of a shattered mirror glittered across the floor like fallen stars. The scent of scorched air, blood, and something unearthly still hung in the room. Diva stood in the center, her bare feet planted firmly into the cracked wooden floor, her breath ragged but steady. Her hands—still curled into claws—trembled slightly. Not with fear. With power still humming in her veins.

The lift ascended in a terrifying, pressurized silence, the only sound the low-frequency hum of the anti-gravity stabilizers. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of ozone and the heavy, electric charge of two identical storms. Alexander stood at the rear of the cabin, his cerulean blade humming. Facing him was the Mirror, a Black-Sun Unit crafted from high-density liquid metal, its face an exact, silver-plated replica of his own.

I demanded an answer. “Your mom has been gone for fifteen years! How did she tell you? In a dream?” Rebecca’s eyes filled with tears. She raised the mirror in her hand and said with a quiver, “The mirror told me! “This is the evidence. Listen. My mom used this to identify you as the killer.” I stared at the mirror in her hand. It was the mirror from the coffee table at the crime scene. The same mirror had been there at the dismemberment case fifteen years ago.

Dr. Lena Moreau checked her dive watch for the third time, the beam from her helmet light cutting through the black water like a knife. The Mariana Trench expedition had been a long shot, rumors of strange bioluminescence and uncharted caverns, but the grant money was burning a hole in her pocket and her career needed a win. Thirty meters below the main dive team, she spotted it: a jagged opening in the rock wall, pulsing with soft, violet light that didn’t belong down here.

After the canoe took them out to sea, arrived at the diving site, and stopped, the coach helped Ella to put on a diving suit, put on frog shoes, and an oxygen tank on her back, David has the experience, so he wears his own diving suit. The oxygen tank weighs almost 50kg, Ella has her back to the back, she is sitting on the web, so heavy that she can't stand up, the trainer has to help her lift the oxygen tank, so she can stand up. OK, they go to the stairs, David jumps into the sea, he's in the water holding her.

She was in no mood to be picky, at this point. She quickly grabbed the dress and took the towel and went straight to the washroom which was attached to her room like other rooms. She turned on the shower and cold water started to pour down, relieving her stiffed muscles and stress along the way. She wiped the fog from the glass which was surrounding the bathtub and that was when she shuddered for real. There was a huge ass hickey at her neck and her eyes couldn't have opened anymore wider at the sight. "You got to be kidding me! A freaking hickey!" her hands slowly travelled down around her neck as she inspected the faint purple bruise, her finger hovering lightly over it.

wrongness. "There," she whispered. "It's not on the beach. The true Darius—he's not even fighting." The realization hit them simultaneously. While everyone fought the duplicates, the real threat was elsewhere, drawing power from their distraction. Miranda began gathering specific artifacts—a crystal that seemed to pulse with moonlight, a dagger with runes etched along its blade, a small vial of what looked like liquid darkness. "We'll need these," she said. "Weapons that exist between states, just like a Mystic."