Miraculous Reflekta Novels & Stories

Haneul suspected this was happening to LJ, who tend to spend too much time with humans for his own good. "She's here. Just try to focus. You can do it." Haneul told LJ, surveying their surroundings again. They were at a tiny bar somewhere in the outskirts of Munich. If their surveillance were correct, their target would be arriving any minute there to celebrate her birthday. This particular creature is a Mirror, one of the very few born on earth wearing Lilith's biological form. Mirrors were more dangerous than the ordinary Lilim, so they had to bide their time and observe. But it had been about an hour, and there was no sign of the Lilim anywhere.

“Now I can scrutinize myself freely” Mane remarked as he stood within the walls of the relatively large bathroom. There was a bucket of water right next to him, and a large rectangular crystal called a Reflection Crystal bound to the wall that served a similar function to a mirror. Although the image that appeared in the crystal wasn’t as clear as a mirror image, it was pretty good and would serve the purpose for which Mane wanted it to.

The girls had chosen this spot for its energy—a natural convergence point where the earth’s magic pooled like water. Freda lit the black candles with a whispered word, their flames burning unnaturally blue. Pru scattered a circle of salt mixed with crushed obsidian, the grains glittering like crushed stars. Rita laid out the parchment—yellowed with age, borrowed from Gogo’s private stash—and the silver dagger, its blade etched with runes. "Ready?" Freda asked. Rita nodded. Pru grinned.

When the real wolves moved, their reflections mimicked them a heartbeat later. Verrik snarled, ears flat. The echo version did the same—then its mouth opened wider, impossibly wide, revealing no teeth, no tongue, only light. Mireya stepped back. “That’s not right.” Kaelen raised his sword. “They’re not meant to be here.” The reflections turned in unison, their featureless faces tilting toward him. Then they started to move—not walking but gliding over the fractured ground, their forms rippling like disturbed water.

" I expressed. "How is he still alive?" Killian asked with shock written all over his face. "Don't worry. I am dead, my soul is trapped." Lord Malakar revealed. "I have to admit you really surprised me and proved to me that I might have underrated your magical ability Aria." "How do we break the mirror?" I asked, ignoring his compliment. "The only reason I am going to give you this secret reciepe is because you have made Seraphina an ordinary being again. But remember, until Seraphina is dead, you cannot rest." He said.

“The Veil’s energy is focused on the next convergence. It’s preparing for something—something significant.” The path narrowed into a bridge of smooth, reflective crystal that seemed to stretch endlessly into the void. The group moved cautiously, their steps echoing unnaturally in the stillness. As they crossed, the reflections beneath them began to shift, forming vague, distorted images that seemed to watch them. Emma stopped abruptly, her breath catching as the reflections solidified. The images were familiar—too familiar. She saw herself, standing alone in the void, the relic and key in her hands. Her reflection’s eyes were hollow, its expression devoid of emotion.

Its surface shimmered like liquid mercury, showing shifting reflections of their deepest fears. Bain saw Cassie in chains. Vulture saw his dead brother. Sokolov saw his empire burning. Elias saw Valeria — but smiling at him. Cassian, standing last, saw nothing. Only light. “The mirror can’t read him,” Malthea whispered in awe. “He’s too pure.” Bain slammed the sigil Seraphina gave him into the mirror’s base. “Seal it!” The relic screamed as the surface collapsed inward, sucked into a glowing crystal which Seraphina caught with precise timing.

Marcus watched from the yard’s edge while Morgana and I worked through what she called active reflection — not just refusing a curse at the immunity level but taking the structure of it, finding its architecture, and returning it along its own path. “The immunity is passive,” Morgana explained. “It encounters dark magic and dissolves it. Reflection is active — you have to engage with the curse’s construction while it’s hitting you, understand it fast enough to redirect it.” She looked at me. “It’s harder. It’s also significantly more useful against a coordinated attack.” “Because reflected curses—” “Hit the caster,” she said. “Yes.” The practice targets were stone columns Marcus had arranged

"Elena needs her mother. I am exactly where I need to be." The place kept changing. One moment we were walking through what looked like a forest and the next we were in a corridor made of mirrors. The reflections showed versions of ourselves that were slightly off. Wrong. In one mirror I saw myself without the pregnancy. In another, Dylan's eyes were black instead of their normal color. "Do not look at the reflections," Seraphine warned from behind us. "They will try to trap your mind. Focus only on what is directly in front of you."

“I don’t know. It’s not recorded in any archive.” Seraphina walked toward it slowly. Her reflection appeared on its surface, pale and silver-haired, eyes bright like molten glass. The light around her mark flared in answer. When she reached out, the hum deepened, and the air thickened with energy. Her fingertips hovered a breath away from the surface. The mirror pulsed once. The glow spread, racing up the walls like veins of moonlight. Words formed across the surface in a language neither mortal nor divine. Elias whispered, “It’s responding to her.”