Mirror Man Chapter 8 Novels & Stories

Even though I can't see her but I know she was not watching the show and her gaze is fixed on me only. "Dude are you possessed?" Hredhaan asked making me shocked. "What? Possessed?" "Yeah, you keep glancing on that black mirror and are smiling like a fool. Which sane person will do that?" Of course, they will think like that after all the mirror is see-through from only one side. "It's a see-through mirror from one side. I need to assure her that I am fine." I cleared his confusion looking at the black glass beside me. "Chubby Cheeks?" Arjun enquired.

She never had this problem looking in the darkness but this time, it seemed like her senses were limited. She stood before the big mirror with no reflection of herself in it. Just a complete darkness. She raised her hand and reached for the mirror, hoping it would be like any other mirror but instead, her hand went through. With a final glance behind her, Mira walked right into the mirror just to get greeted by a honking sound and an angry man. “Watch where you’re going, woman!” he shouted from his car.

He walked closer to me and requested a dance. Somehow, I noticed myself freely granting his request like I was under some kind of trance or something, I tried staring at his eyes but his face was somehow blurred by what I could not understand. As we danced, I noticed none of our reflections was been spotted by any of the mirrors. ‘If he was some kind of ghost, at least my reflections should have been seen in the mirrors.’ I said to myself. After the dance, the man in the mirrors gave me a kiss on my forehead and suddenly the blur face and mask went off completely. I could see in front of me th e face of the man, the real man behing the mirror, It was no other than the Black Jackson. I wonder

For a second, I didn’t recognize him. The man staring back at me wasn’t me. His eyes were black pits, his face hollow, lips curled like he was about to bite. My heart slammed once, twice, and then I lunged. The mirror cracked under my fist with a sound that echoed through the silence. Glass rained down, cutting my knuckles open. The sight of blood triggered something feral in me, something that howled. I swung again. And again. Each punch tore skin, split bone deeper. I didn’t stop until the mirror was a spiderweb of silver shards, my reflection split into a thousand broken pieces.

“Take me more.” My instincts screamed at me to look away. To pull back. But I couldn’t. Her hands, her legs, her eyes and voice— she had me trapped. “Look,” she ordered, her tongue sliding against my throat. I swallowed hard. Her command slithered inside me, taking root. I turned my head. And froze. The reflection. It wasn’t me. The man in the blood-streaked mirror was younger. No beard, no scars, no muscle. His hair was shorter, his eyes wide with something unrecognizable.

Luna realized that they were trapped in a reflection of their fears, trapped within the illusions. "No more," Luna growled, her gaze unwavering. "We will break these illusions and reclaim the relics." Elias nodded, his eyes blazing with determination. He charged towards the mirror, his inner strength propelling him forward. With a mighty blow, he shattered the mirror into a thousand shards.

They stood opposite me as I studied the whole room, especially the sofa where I specifically ordered Nicolette to sit obediently. Then something caught my eye. I clenched my fists. “Where did you get that mirror?” I asked, turning to Yrra with a sharp stare but pointing my fingers to a circular mirror hung on a wall. I didn’t notice it earlier because it was behind some floating icicles. Blast it. She crossed her arms to her chest, appearing taken aback by my sudden outburst. “It is just a mirror, Lucien, very insignificant. Why are you pointing at it like it just committed a grave sin?”

The hot water provided a physical release, relaxing his tense muscles, but his mind remained a cauldron of seething anger. Steam enveloped the bathroom, a visual representation of the heated emotions coursing through Asher. In a fit of rage, he directed his anger towards a decorative mirror on the wall, pounding it again and again. The bathroom echoed with the sounds of shattered glass, a stark contrast to the calm facade Asher usually presented. This was not the person he wanted to be, and the realization fueled his frustration even more. All of this, he believed, was a consequence of Ezra's actions.

The room didn't just turn amber; it turned "Cold." From the Mirror, a figure began to emerge—not an Architect, but a "Reflection." It was a man who looked exactly like Silas Thorne, but his eyes were two solid pools of liquid silver. "The Mirror is not a looking glass," the reflection said. "It is a 'Peer Review'."

Every tree, every rock, every gust of wind seemed to whisper of dangers lurking just beyond the horizon. Lia’s wrist-mark had been flaring with more intensity over the past few days, the power within her growing stronger, and yet more volatile. The strange "Mirror Soul" ability—this gift, or curse—was becoming harder to control. Every time she replicated magic, it drained her energy, leaving her weak and vulnerable. But she couldn’t stop. The Heart of the Greykin was still out there, and it was the only hope for her people. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.