Gemstone Mirror Novels & Stories

The Watcher's smile turns predatory as he produces something that shouldn't exist—a mirror crafted from obsidian so pure it seems to absorb light itself, its surface rippling with veins of silver fire that pulse in rhythm with my heartbeat. The frame appears to be carved from crystallized starlight, edges sharp enough to cut reality itself, and when I look at it, my reflection doesn't show. Instead, the surface writhes with possibilities, showing glimpses of futures and pasts that exist in the spaces between what is and what could be.

Before he crawled to the end of the bed and made to reach for the mirror itself. Surprised at the intricate details and foreign scene with the mirror’s image. Gemma dropped the mirror in fear as her eyes met his startling green eyes, and his hand reached out to her. It bounced off the corner of the nightstand. When it finally settled on the bed. Gemma saw a crack form in the mirror’s glass. The glass stayed within the frame as the image winked out and the crack formed. She stood there for a breath or two, trying to process what she saw. A boy and his bear.

It was low and so quiet that I had to strain to hear it, but there was no mistaking that voice. It was Lina’s. Throwing caution to the wind, because I was fearless like that, I said fuck it and approached the mirror. The frame wasn’t just silver, it also had carvings of the moon phases down each side. At the top was a crystal the size of my fist. It sparkled as I approached, and part of me wondered if it was in greeting or a warning that my soul was about to get sucked out through my nose. With my luck it would be the latter.

The shelf shifted, revealing a narrow hallway bathed in violet flame. The air grew cooler as they descended, scentless and strange, until they reached a circular chamber carved into the earth itself. Moonlight filtered in from above through enchanted quartz, illuminating the murals on the stone walls—stories told in wolf-shapes and crimson swirls. In the center stood a mirror. Seven feet tall. Frame forged from ironwood, inlaid with veins of silver and howlite. But the glass itself… it rippled like a liquid dream. Zara stared at it, something primal in her blood waking.

Broken glass crunches under my boots. "They will pay for this. Every last one of them." Colin tilts his head, but he does not interrupt. I turn from the shattered table and storm toward the far wall where the black root vines twist from the ceiling like veins. I speak an ancient command, and the vines part slowly, revealing a mirror made from moonstone shards. It shows the world beyond the Hollow. The forest. The Starlight Pack’s path. I can almost smell the smugness rolling off them as they return home, victorious.

Bare stone floors, shelves that held nothing but dust, and in the center of the far wall: A mirror. Seven feet tall. Ornate frame twisted with iron and blackened gold, shaped like thorns or vines. It didn’t shimmer. Didn’t reflect. The glass was dull, dark. Waiting. Theo stepped beside her, breath shallow. “That’s the one.” She nodded. “From the sketch.” They moved closer. Sloane stood directly in front of it. She should have seen herself. She should have seen both of them. But the glass was black.

The walls began to shift from moonlit white to deep sapphire, etched with strange constellations that seemed to rearrange themselves when I wasn’t looking. Eventually, we reached a chamber shaped like a dome. It was silent. Not just quiet—truly silent. No birdsong. No wind. Even my breath felt muffled. At the center stood a tall, mirror-like structure, glowing faintly, its surface rippling like disturbed water. It was framed in bone-white stone that pulsed like it had a heartbeat. “What is this place?” I whispered. “The Mirror of Moons,” Seraphina said. “It doesn’t reflect what you see—it reflects what you hide.”

He disappeared into the adjoining room, the beaded curtain rustling behind him. My thoughts went to Zevarion. I had already made my choice, I would stay by his side, no matter what, but I needed to know. I had to know what he truly was. The man returned moments later, cradling a black mirror with edges that shimmered faintly like the surface of still water under moonlight. “This is an obsidian mirror,” he explained. “Drop your blood onto it, or into water mixed with silver dust. When a demon looks into it, their true form will be revealed.”

He enjoyed the way their eyes flashed to his but never stayed, the way they were afraid. "Are we clear?" Veyron's piercing and purposeful voice broke through the muttering. The only sound to break the silence was the distant trickle of water from the cavern's roof. The gathered crowd reluctantly nodded, not wanting to say anything. "Well done." A grin that was equal parts threat and joy curved his lips. He turned away and paced to the chamber's edge, where a huge mirror made of obsidian stood, its surface vibrating slightly as if it were alive. That mirror was an ingenious bit of engineering. An all-in-one surveillance tool and platform. He had seen kingdoms collapse, alliances break, and li

It was only a matter of pressure. My private room lay beyond the ceremonial chambers, past velvet and gold and things meant to be seen. This room was bare by comparison. Just a stone walls, one narrow window that has been sealed for generations. And at its heart, is concealed behind a panel carved with forgotten runes and mirror. I uncovered the mirror slowly. The glass was not glass at all. It breathed when exposed, a shallow, living exhale that fogged its surface from the inside out. Veins of silver threaded through it like cracks that had chosen not to break. This mirror had no reflection unless it was commanded to show one.