Novel & Cerita Fractured Mirrors

One of the mirrors cracked — not shattered, just a spiderweb fissure blooming outward from the center, the glass pulsing softly like a heartbeat. The drones continued their silent routines, blind to the change. The system, however, noticed. Red icons flared on the engineers’ monitors. Cooling pumps stuttered and howled. The lights above flickered and dimmed. And then one of the mirrors blinked. Its reflection no longer showed the lab. Instead, a street scene bled through: cracked pavement slick with rain, the flicker of a passing bus, a sliver of city sky through heavy clouds. The image looped once, froze, then dissolved into static.

Luna-Shadow's final word hangs in the crystalline air like a death knell, and then, everything collapses. The mirrors don't just crack; they scream. Each reflective surface ripples like disturbed water, distorting our faces into grotesque amalgamations of what we were, what we are, what we might become. The sound is unbearable—a symphony of breaking glass mixed with voices that bleed into one another until I can't tell where one Selene ends and another begins.

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

I explain. “What exactly are we trying to do here? I can barely see the fracture. It almost looks like a whisp of cloud,” Josie says. “Yes, it is much more subtle here, it's nothing like it is on the other side. That's why it has been so difficult to find,” Deacon adds. “I wonder why that is, but it doesn't really matter. That whisp you see shouldn't be there, you need to open it. Imagine it like a large sheet of ice that's blocking your way. Start chipping away at the crack in the ice until it's all gone,”

I could feel it—its walls vibrating softly, its breath rising in the dust motes around me. And then—I stood. I knew where I needed to go. The mirror room. *** It was just as I remembered. Shattered glass still scattered the floor like frozen stars. The large mirror was gone—exploded in a curse-breaking storm. But along the far wall… stood a smaller one. Unbroken. Framed in tarnished silver. Covered with a thin sheet of white silk. My hands shook as I stepped forward. I hadn’t looked into a mirror since that night.

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. Jack?!

Standing side by side. Silver currents flowing between us. Not violent. Stable. Clean. “You see?” she asks quietly. “This is what you are.” “That’s not real.” “It could be.” I clench my jaw. “You don’t get to define me.” “I’m not defining you. I’m showing you potential.” The image shifts. The silver current grows stronger. Then— The world fractures. The mirror cracks. The image destabilizes. The silver light flickers violently. And the reflection explodes into shards.

Hopelessness surged, then cracked and gave way to rage. My fist drove into the mirror. A sharp crack split the air. Pain exploded through my hand, and for one breathless second, I felt it. A flash of satisfaction. Glass rained down, tiny blades that glittered like stars. Blood smeared across the porcelain, hot and steady. But the pain didn’t land. Not really. Nothing could hurt more than going back. I stared at the broken reflection. Fractured eyes. Fragmented truths. But the girl looking back?

Tainted. My heart clenched. I wanted to look away. To deny it. But it was me. A version of me. A possible me. Caius stepped up behind me, voice low and firm. “It’s not you.” I didn’t answer. Because I wasn’t sure. Then Caius stepped in front of the mirror. And the mirror… shattered. Not with a crash. Not with any sound at all. Just a sudden ripple—and then it fractured, disintegrating like dust in water.

And then, as if summoned by some unseen force, a mirror appeared before me, its surface bouncing off the sliverey light from the moon. I hesitated, my reflection staring back at me with hollow eyes, a distorted image of the person I once was. With trembling hands, I reached out, touching the glass, feeling its cool surface beneath my fingertips. And then, in an instant, the mirror shattered, fragments of glass scattering like diamonds in the moonlight as they fell to the forest floor. “Fuck!.” I said loudly, but my words only came out bad a whisper. In the shattered remains of the mirror, in each small piece, I saw a reflection unlike any I had ever known. A glowing white wolf, larger than l