Fractured Mirrors Novels & Stories

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.

Even the teachers seemed uneasy. She turned onto her side, glancing at her nightstand. The silver sand was gone. But just as she started to relax, a faint whisper echoed through her room. “Anna…” She shot up, heart pounding. “Who’s there?” Silence. Her eyes darted to the mirror across the room. A shadow moved. And then— The glass cracked. --- The Shattered Reflection Anna’s breath hitched in her throat as the mirror’s surface cracked, splitting into jagged lines that seemed to pulse with a strange, ominous energy. She couldn’t move, her body frozen in place as if the room itself was holding her captive.

With a mighty force, he hurls the mirror to the ground, the glass shattering into a million pieces with a deafening explosion of sound. The room now lies in disarray, the broken mirror a stark reflection of the turmoil that rages within Paul. His chest heaves with the exertion of his outburst, his mind clouded with a mix of anger, hurt, and frustration. As the echoes of his actions fade into silence, Paul is left standing amidst the wreckage, the shattered mirror serving as a poignant symbol of the brokenness that now consumes him.

"Uh... the British and French Mirrors are still at large, so is the Russian one. We just found out that the British and French Mirrors hate each other, so I wouldn't worry about them joining forces, which is good because they're the strongest ones so far. Now, the French might contact the Russian instead. Which is funny, by the way, because during the human wars, the Russians actually--" LJ stopped. His brethren were all looking at him weirdly. Just as well, he didn't know what he was saying anymore. "I'll take over from here." Haneul sighed, looking at LJ in disappointment. "As Li Jie said, the British, French, and Russian Mirrors are still at large. The Cuban Mirror remains incarcerated in

Wulfric stepped forward, explaining, “These aren’t ordinary mirrors. They show you what you fear most, who you fear you’ll become. We each have to confront our own reflections to move forward.” Damien took a deep breath as he approached the nearest mirror. His reflection morphed before him, revealing an older version of himself, one burdened by leadership and failure, dark eyes filled with weariness. This vision sent a shiver through him—his fear of losing himself in the struggle for power and respect. Claud stepped up next. His mirror showed him wielding a fiery sword, a fierce warrior avenging his past, but with a shadowy figure of himself lurking behind, a reminder of the rage that could

And as the chamber descended into darkness, a single glimmer of light danced upon one of the shattered mirrors—a symbol of hope amidst the encroaching despair, and a promise that the answers they sought were within their grasp. With their weapons still in hand, Jaxon and his allies braced themselves for the impending onslaught. The shards of the shattered mirrors quivered with ominous energy as if they were the teeth of some unseen beast waiting to devour them. The encroaching darkness swirled around them, threatening to engulf their very souls.

The mirror towered before her, its surface swirling with an otherworldly energy. Taking a steadying breath, Amelia stepped forward, her reflection mirroring her movements in perfect synchronization. As she approached the mirror, the surface rippled like water, revealing scenes from her past, present, and possible futures. Each reflection showed a different path, a different outcome, but only one was the truth she sought.

There was something half-buried behind a pillar, almost invisible unless you were looking for it—a mirror. It was tall, nearly reaching my shoulder even with part of the frame wedged into the wall. Its frame was carved into curling vines, each thorn sharp enough to prick skin if I touched it. The wood had gone nearly black with age, but the carvings were still perfect, almost too perfect for something left here so long. The glass was worse—split into three jagged cracks that distorted my reflection. My face appeared in fragments, pieces that didn’t quite line up, like I wasn’t whole.

My voice was painful even for me. "No one can save you," I whispered to my reflection, my voice breaking at the end. My tears just fell without me needing to force them. I smiled faintly, full of despair and resignation. Then, in one breath, I raised my hand and smashed the mirror with my fist. CRACK!! The echo of the impact sound filled the set, and everyone there held their breath. My hand shook, and the mirror in front of me cracked down the center, creating sharp lines that broke my reflection into small, distorted pieces.

Her hands slowly cover her mouth, finding herself taking a few steps back. The mirrors placed inside the punishment room had been there for as long as she could remember. It was older than her, older than her professor, and older than her professor’s professor. It was so old that even though it had fallen off the hooks it was placed on, it wouldn’t break. And yet, almost every mirror that was within Amara’s reach had cracks on them. The mirrors inside were made of strong metal, but she could see indentations on its casing. It looked like strong nails were run through it, making it look like Amara had scratched on the doors, trying to get out.