Novel & Cerita Mirror-mirror Fruit

My name is Mirabelle, but my friends call me Mira for short, i'm barely seventeen and about to enter a new phase of my life, I just got admitted into the university of my dreams to study accounting which was not actually what I intended to study at first, but because that was where my mark in post utme landed me or I was not just so lucky....but I accepted to study it anyways because I was determined to leave the house, which I and my siblings called "cage house" funny right?

I said, wanting her to see exactly what I had seen. I quickly brought my sleeves to the middle of my hand in preparation. My wrists then moved to open the large cloth. We were met with a large mirror that had the same name imprinted on it, “Oragon,” We both gasped at what we had saw. The mirror looked powerful. It was as if it drew us both inside. By the side, was a wooden polished structure, which added to the beauty. “Mum? What do you think we are supposed to do?” I asked.

Inside was not a weapon, or a plan, or even a promise—it was a spool of dental floss, two cracked plastic spoons, a withered chunk of honeycomb, and what looked like a child’s drawing: a map of the city, every sector marked with an X, each X circled with growing, radiating whorls. “Seeds,” whispered Mira, and opened her hand. In her palm lay the hard, black shapes of apple and pear and plum. “The old kind. Not registered.” Elena stared. “You can’t—there’s no dirt, nothing will—” Mira laughed, just once. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not for now. It’s for later. For the ones after.” She reached out and tucked the blue ribbon behind Elena’s ear. “This is how we win. Not by fighting. By staying. By gro

Her friends said she had become obsessed with “the woman in the mirror.” That evening, as the sun set, I stood in front of the mirror again. This time, I spoke directly to it. “Who are you?” My reflection didn’t move at first. Then it slowly smiled, a smile I had never made. It raised a finger and wrote on the inside of the glass, the letters appearing backward so I could read them: **“I am what’s left when you look away.”** I smashed the mirror with a chair that night. The glass shattered into hundreds of pieces across the floor.

They led her to a forest that looked like the forest in her dream, but this time it was brighter and less scary. In the center of the forest, Sira saw a circle of large stones that glowed softly. In the center of the circle was a large mirror standing upright. It looked old but beautiful, with mysterious carvings on its frame. The little bird flew close to the mirror and chirped softly, as if telling Sira to come closer. Cautiously, Sira stepped closer to the mirror. When she looked into the mirror, what she saw was not her reflection, but another world.

Wulfric stepped forward, explaining, “These aren’t ordinary mirrors. They show you what you fear most, who you fear you’ll become. We each have to confront our own reflections to move forward.” Damien took a deep breath as he approached the nearest mirror. His reflection morphed before him, revealing an older version of himself, one burdened by leadership and failure, dark eyes filled with weariness. This vision sent a shiver through him—his fear of losing himself in the struggle for power and respect. Claud stepped up next. His mirror showed him wielding a fiery sword, a fierce warrior avenging his past, but with a shadowy figure of himself lurking behind, a reminder of the rage that could

Liora, always the thinker, pondered, "It's about choices. We need to make a collective decision that brings balance." The mirror responded to our intent. The stormy side showcased scenes of power and dominance, while the sunny side revealed peace and unity. "We need both," Seraphina concluded. "Power to protect and unity to thrive." Taking a deep breath, we joined hands, focusing our energies on the mirror. The contrasting images began to merge, the stormy clouds parting to let in rays of sunshine, the divisions fading to create a harmonious Meranthia. The mirror then shattered, but instead of falling apart, it transformed into a portal, revealing the familiar landscape of Meranthia, its bea

However, reborn with a vengeance, I would live by one rule: if one were to cross me, I would pay it back a hundred times over. I clutched the phone tightly. "Your mom's the only one who gets it. I'll be tied up here for another couple of hours. Tell her I'm craving her grilled lamb chops, barbeque pork ribs, and that homemade pie mash she makes..." I rattled off a list of dishes that were notoriously tricky to whip up.

“Remember this: the mirror shows what is true. It shows what it wants. When you seek, be simple. One question. One answer. No bargains. No lies.” A watcher named Jorin put his palm to the black glass and whispered the name of a lost child he wanted to find. The mirror breathed and showed a small face, sleeping under a rock. Jorin’s eyes filled and he stepped away. “Good,” I said. “We will use the mirror to map. Not to bargain. Not to hunt power. It is a tool.” Night came and the castle lit with low fires. I walked the battlements and listened to the patrols. I felt the kingdom move. It was like an animal shifting in sleep. Small muscles tightened. It would wake with speed.

The forest path grew narrow as Anastasia followed the trail Matif had etched into her memory twisting through ferns and weeping willows until the trees parted into a clearing blanketed in eerie stillness. A crescent-shaped basin of water shimmered at the center, still as glass, rimmed with blue petals and glowing moss. The Mirror Pool. It was older than the kingdom itself spoken of in whispers, used only by those whose fates balanced on the edge of life and ruin.