Glitter Mirror Novels & Stories

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."

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.”

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.

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

"Silas said to tell you that Silvercrest plays with stolen coins. Tonight, we make them pay the tax." The lid of the trunk swings back. Even in the dim, bleeding emergency light, the contents make my breath hitch. Nestled within layers of protective black velvet is the Shattered Mirror. The silver threads seem to catch the ambient darkness itself, humming with that faint, ghostly luminescence I locked into the core with my own blood. It looks alive. It looks dangerous. And laid right beside it, wrapped in silk, is a gown.

Ivy whispered. They reached a set of double doors clad in tarnished silver. Ivy pushed them open. The hinges didn't scream; they let out a long, metallic sigh. The room beyond was a dressing chamber frozen in mid-breath. Dust motes danced in the candlelight like tiny, falling stars. But it was the mirrors that dominated the space—vast, towering sheets of mercury glass that lined every wall. Mercury glass, unlike modern mirrors, had a dark, liquid depth to it, a shimmering instability that made every reflection look like it was underwater.

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.

Then I pulled. The heavy fabric fell away in one sweeping motion. Dust exploded through the air. And the mirror— Awakened. I staggered back instinctively. The glass was not normal. Not reflective in any ordinary sense. At first, I saw only myself. Pale. Wide-eyed. Crowned. Frightened. But then— Silver fumes began moving beneath the surface. My blood ran cold. Not on the mirror. Inside it. Like smoke trapped beneath water. Swirling. Curling.

Its frame was adorned with intricate carvings, and the surface shimmered like liquid silver, almost inviting them to look within. Emily approached the mirror, her reflection gazing back at her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. "What is this mirror, and why does it feel so unsettling?" Liam stepped forward, studying his own reflection with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. "I believe this is no ordinary mirror. It seems to reflect more than just our physical appearance." As the pack gathered around, the mirror began to glow softly, and each member's reflection took on a life of its own. Rachel's reflection showed her laughing, carefree, and joyful, but Sarah's reflect

EPISODE 1 — THE MIRROR The mirror hangs on the dressing room wall, framed in silver so heavy two men would struggle to move it from its mount. In the coffee shop where Mira’s life ended, the only mirrors were the small, smudged squares above the bathroom sinks — scratched with initials and hearts, reflecting faces tired from work and worry. Here, this glass is perfect, polished to a clarity that shows not just reflections but the faint ghost of what was there before. The silver frame carries cold like a block of ice pulled from winter water, and when she presses her palm against it, the metal leaves white marks on her skin that take seconds to fade.