Novel & Cerita Miraculous Images

“What is this Ten-Point Forbidden Spell? I’ve never heard of it. Have you made a mistake?” The imposing aura around him clambered up as he prepared to teleport away to escape. However, Hermione suddenly pulled out a mirror, which rotated. In the next second, four identical copies of herself appeared beside her, every one of them a replica of herself. Alex was dumbfounded. He glanced at the mirror and finally understood how her mirror images came to be. But wasn’t this magic treasure overly powerful? Could it produce endless copies? But, on the other hand, he could also feel that those new mirror images had the same strength as the other ones and not any weaker.

After cleaning the broken tray, Mira excused herself earlier than normal. And the moment she stepped outside the chamber doors— She stopped breathing steadily. Her hands trembled violently. No. She knew what she saw. Twice. Not imagination. Not exhaustion. Something inside that mirror had looked back at her. And smiled. --- That night— Mira avoided mirrors completely. But sleep never came. Because every time she closed her eyes— She saw Elian’s reflection whispering silently through the glass. And somehow— Deep down— She felt certain of one terrifying thing.

"What happened? Are you alright, Mira?" "Yes, I will be once you are here. How far away are you?" "I will be there in thirty minutes," he said to me. "Make it twenty." "Whatever," he answered. The link cut. In twenty-five minutes, he arrived in all his glory. "What was the emergency, Mira?" "Here," I said to him, pointing at the burnt corpse on the floor. "Ahhhhhh! What the fuck did you do, Mira? What happened to him?"

Mirabella said softly, determination creeping into her tone, “if the prophecy is true. If my granddaughter will be the one to fulfill it.” The figure raised a delicate hand, gesturing slowly as if weaving through unseen strands of fate. Mirabella stepped forward, her heart pounding, and together they pressed their palms to the surface of the mirror that bridged their realities—this very mirror, now pulsating with dormant runes, holding secrets that could shatter worlds. As their hands connected, a jolt of energy flared between them, electric and alive. The mirror ignited with brilliance. And from its depths emerged a vision: a girl—dark curls falling wildly around her face—stood in a grove e

“What is it?” I stepped forward, hesitant but determined. “I know it might sound ridiculous, but… I saw someone. A man. In my mirror this morning. Grey hair, stormy eyes, but not old. He wasn’t just a reflection either—he was there. Staring at me. And then he just disappeared.” Aurora’s expression didn’t change much, but I saw it—just a flicker, a shift in her eyes. She wasn’t surprised. “Mirrors,” she said slowly, “aren’t always what they seem. Especially not to someone… awakening.”

Now that she did, it turned out that George was so impressive in the bed. Noticing the weird stare Sigrid was giving him, Lucas did not understand what was going on. "This broken mirror is a Purification Mirror, and it can also be used to exorcise spirits. That's what he claims," Elizabeth told Sigrid. Sigrid stared at the mirror, trying to see if there was any mechanism that could directly turn this mirror into an exorcising tool. However, after inspecting it for a long time, she still couldn't wrap her head around it.

It crashed over me like a tide of liquid silver, and my vision blurred, everything taking on a golden cast that made the world look like it was burning. For one impossible heartbeat, I could see everything with supernatural clarity. The grain of the wood in the table, the individual threads in Mira's worn apron, the way dust motes danced in the firelight like tiny sprites. But more than that—I could see the energy that flowed between all living things, the invisible connections that bound the world together. And I could see the way Mira's aura flickered with surprise, then awe, then something that looked dangerously close to recognition. Mira's breath caught in her throat, sharp and sudden.

One of the councillors — Elder Marrick, scarred from brow to chin — stepped forward, pointing a gnarled finger. “You’ve damned us. Every ledger, every prophecy warned against letting the First into flesh. Now it’s in you.” Killian’s head snapped toward him, and for a moment — only a moment — the shadows in the crypt bent with his gaze, pooling, thickening, as if they bowed to his attention. Marrick flinched, stumbling back. “I’m not it,” Killian said, quiet but sharp. “I’m still me.” “Are you?” Marrick spat. “Because I saw your eyes when you rose. I saw the vault answer you.”

Mirra Mirra didn’t need the third vision to understand the pattern. But it came anyway. The false Ronan dissolved, and the earth beneath Mirra’s feet turned luminous—too bright, too green, too alive. A version of herself rose from the soil like she had been carved out of stone and covered in vines. The false Mirra’s gaze was flat. Unmoving. It didn’t blink. Behind it, the world was orderly. Perfectly arranged. No wild overgrowth. No shifting tides. No unpredictable moon phases. Everything held still.