Gemstone Mirror Novels & Stories

“I’m waiting for her answer.” ⸻ Below, Miriam led Amelia toward a narrow alcove hidden behind the twelfth pillar. Inside stood a large mirror framed in polished cedar. Unlike an ordinary mirror, its surface shimmered gently like calm water. “What is this?” Amelia asked. “The Mirror of Keepers.” “It doesn’t show your face.” “It shows your choice.” Amelia hesitated. “I don’t understand.” “You will.” Miriam stepped aside. “Look.” Amelia slowly approached the mirror. At first she saw only her own reflection.

The Obscured Order --- The obsidian mirrors began to hum. Low at first. A soft, metallic vibration pulsing through the long-forgotten chamber beneath the mountain. Then it deepened. Resonated. Cracked. The robed figures surrounding the Circle of Glass fell silent. Each turned toward the sound—toward the mirror at the center, now flickering with silver light, as if a moon had bled through its surface. The Seer stirred. She sat at the high end of the chamber, her eyes hidden beneath gauze soaked in myrrh and ash. Her breath hitched—not from surprise, but recognition.

"Like you missed your way to the nursery?" His eyes dilate, and I see the veins pop on the side of his head. He tries to speak, but is dumbstruck—an effect of control. Ignoring him, I walk in the opposite direction, my eyes sweeping the floor, taking in the damage. My huge, gold-framed mirror is completely shattered—that one was a gift from Rex. My makeup now beautifies the tiled floors in an array of red, matte, nude, red, glitters, and did I mention red?

Dawn’s pale light spilled through the shattered windows of the Silver Fang Citadel, but the crimson eclipse that draped the sky lent every surface a sickly red sheen. Nyra stood on the threshold of the throne room, her breath ragged, heart pounding like the drums of war. Selene, Ryker, and Kaelan flanked her, war‑torn and bruised... yet unbowed. Before them, something impossible gleamed: an obsidian mirror, freestanding in the marble antechamber. Its surface drank the red light, swallowing it into depths that seemed to shift and ripple. It had not been there yesterday.

“From the moment I met you. From the instant I watched that shard scream for someone to bear its weight in your hand.” “You lent me part of your shard,” I whispered. “No.” He stepped closer. “I gave it a home.” Something between us cracked. I could not determine if it was something beautiful or something horrifying. Maybe both. But there was no unpacking of that at the moment. Because the mirror began to reshape. Not like before — not glass and light. But stone. The cracks on the floor instantly formed into a spiral, and the rune in the middle of the spiral started pulsing with light, red and golden colour. Winifred gasped. “That’s not Jasmine’s energy anymore.”

In the center stands the mirror. It’s not what Bianca expected. No grand pedestal. No silver frame. Just a tall, narrow slab of obsidian resting between two stone holders. Its surface ripples faintly, like oil over water. The air around it pulses. Bianca takes a slow step back. “You sure you want to do this?” she whispers. “No,” Lumina says again. “But I have to.” She walks forward. Each step feels heavier than the last. The mirror hums softly, as though recognizing her presence. Lumina closes her eyes, steadying herself.

Red and furious and small. “This is what you want?” I said to the Game, to the shadow, to the heart mirror. “Fine.” Before anyone could stop me, I hurled the shard at the central glass. It hit dead center. For a heartbeat, nothing. Then the sound came. A scream of feedback, high and grinding, slicing straight through my skull. The massive mirror rippled, the perfect surface buckling like a disturbed pond, our reflections warping into funhouse monstrosities. The floor lurched under my feet.

The chamber beyond the arch was circular, walls lined with black obsidian that drank the torchlight. In the center stood a single mirror—tall, ornate, framed in what looked like bone. Its surface swirled with silver mist, refusing to show any reflection. Stephanie clutched Riley's arm, her nails digging in. "I don't want to go first. Please, God, not me." But the mirror had other plans.

It was old, the frame tarnished silver worked into a pattern of vines, the glass itself dark, like looking into a pool of standing water rather than a mirror. My reflection didn’t show up in it the way it should have. I turned it over in my hands, then carried it over to where Melissa was sleeping. “Melissa.” I touched her shoulder. “Wake up. I think I found something.” Her eyes opened, blinking blearily, and then sharpened the second they landed on the mirror in my hands. She sat up straighter.