Novel & Cerita Glitter Mirror

Morozko peered at it too. Its surface was smooth as water, reflecting Anya's chubby face. He picked it up. Instead of his visage in the mercury, he saw Anya giggling. Morozko traced the gold filigree on the edge, his lips forming an O of surprise. “It is enchanted?” Morozko turned the mirror in his hands. “I would expect no less from you, babushka. Even your mirrors have devious uses.”

Drawn to it, she walked closer until the light expanded into a wide circular chamber. At its center stood a mirror. Not made of glass, but liquid metal, swirling and alive. Symbols ringed its base, identical to those in the earlier platform. Elara hesitated. “This is the final trial?” The surface of the mirror rippled. Her reflection appeared, but something was different. Her eyes glowed brighter than before, silver streaked with molten gold. Faint markings curled along her arms, like scales formed from light. The air around her reflection shimmered with heat.

To Alaric, Caleb wasn't a hero, he was a reminder of the mistakes that led to the Thorne downfall. ​Suddenly, the lead vault sitting on the table in the center of the room began to hum. ​The silver mercury that had leaked from its seams didn't dry. It began to rise from the floor, defying gravity, swirling into a perfect, vertical circle. It formed a Silver Mirror, the surface rippling like a pond in a storm. ​“Don’t touch it!” Ryker shouted, moving to put himself between Elara and the mirror. ​But the mirror didn't attack. It began to show images nof the war, but of the past.

The reflection moved first. Emery's breath hitched as the image of herself inside the mirror smirked, lifting a hand as if reaching for her. But the movements weren’t hers. The woman in the reflection... her, yet not her... tilted her head in quiet amusement. The golden glow of the mirror intensified, illuminating the fractures beginning to spread across the glass, fine as spiderwebs. Emery stepped forward, an almost uncontrollable pull dragging her in. She lifted a hesitant hand, fingertips hovering inches from the surface. It felt alive. Pulsing beneath her skin like a heartbeat.

Only the central altar remained, cracked but unbroken, standing at the heart of a spiral marked in dark stone. Aria approached, the Moonstone fragment glowing brighter now. As she stepped into the center of the spiral, the world shifted again. A hum rose from the earth. And in the air above the altar, a shimmer began to form. It coalesced into a shape—glass-like, floating. A mirror. The mirror. Fractured, just like in her visions. Each shard flickered with light and images—different versions of herself. A girl laughing beside her parents. A warrior drenched in blood. A queen with a crown made of thorns. A mother. A murderer. A martyr.

Maps, goblets, and the half-empty decanter of whiskey crashed to the floor in a satisfying cascade of glass and amber liquid. But it wasn’t enough. I grabbed the iron candelabra next and swung it like a club. It smashed through the tall mirror on the far wall. Shards rained down glittering and sharp. My reflection fractured into a dozen versions of myself, each one more ruined than the last. I swung again. The candelabra bent on impact and flew from my hand, embedding itself in the opposite wall with a dull thunk.

The entire room was like a small apartment, she thought then she gasped and facepalmed upon remembering that she's actually in an apartment complex. She saw that there was a door beside the wall wardrobe, about a few inches away from it. She sauntered to it, curious what lies behind the mysterious door and she squinted her eyes, lifting her free arm to cover them because of the gloriously gleaming treasures hidden behind the door. It was a bathroom, a dignifiedly neat one, with marble-like restroom fittings and fixtures. Even though she was a few feet away from them and she has quite the bad eyesight, she thought she regained her 20/20 vision and could easily see and recognize all the neat s

I write not only for myself, but for you too! To continue Hollis and Whitney's adventure through life, be sure to check out "Not All Who Wander Are Lost", the sequel to "Not All That Glitters."

They weren’t real. But little did I know that time, I’d be experiencing those in a literal way. Like, seriously. In a gut-wrenching, stomach-twisting literal way. And it all started when I brought an artifact back in my place. The six-foot-tall mirror looked classic, ancient, but it didn’t scream precious. For starters, the frame wasn’t gilded. It was made of metal that looked like bronze. It wasn’t adorned with rubies or diamonds too. It was just simple, little flowers and elegant curves carved on its sides.

The Mirror Room wasn’t built for comfort. It was made to fracture reality, to dismantle the sense of self. Floor to ceiling, the room was encased in flawless, polished glass. Every breath, every blink, every heartbeat reflected a thousand times over. There were no shadows here, just distortions—haunting, endless versions of whoever dared to step inside.