Mirror-mirror Fruit Novels & Stories

The cave was dark, and the sound of trickling water echoed from within. "We're going in," Siron said. They turned on their flashlights and entered one by one. The cave was narrow at first, then widened into a large chamber with a ceiling of stalactites. In the center of the room stood a large mirror with an old silver frame, perched atop a stone pedestal. The mirror didn't reflect them, but showed shifting images, beautiful landscapes, faces of loved ones, treasures. "The Mirror of Desires," Stefan whispered. Siron drew near. In the mirror, he saw a vision of another self, becoming a respected leader, with Morat and Lyra in full physical form beside him, and Kit...

I munched the strawberries happily but I could see a look of reluctance fixed on Harper's face. “You don't like strawberries?” I asked shortly. I was being like Harper too, meddling it business that shouldn't be my concern. “No, that's not it… I'm a big fan of strawberries!” Harper replied. She picked one delicately and threw it inside her mouth. She was obviously not munching. “You don't have to eat it if you don't like it, baby,” Olivia seemed to have noticed too. “Someone once told me strawberries weren't as sweet as they looked. He didn't like it because of that.”

From inside the bag, she takes out a round mirror, made of a black stone, which was so polished. - Is that the Mausoleum stone? – Romeo asks. - yes, this is an Obsidian mirror. Romeo shrinks and looks away, not even wanting to look at it. Mary stretches out her hand and Julius takes the mirror. He looks at him from all sides and looks at the witch. - Don't look at it. Stare at him. - What will happen? – Shane asks. - I don't know. It depends on what the mirror wants to show Julius. It could be his past, the past before him, or one of the possible futures.

The mirror towered before her, its surface swirling with an otherworldly energy. Taking a steadying breath, Amelia stepped forward, her reflection mirroring her movements in perfect synchronization. As she approached the mirror, the surface rippled like water, revealing scenes from her past, present, and possible futures. Each reflection showed a different path, a different outcome, but only one was the truth she sought.

A row of glass vials stands sentinel on a rickety shelf—each containing a unique essence: wolfsbane, moonflower, etc. But my purpose lies beyond these trinkets. I seek the “Mirror of Truth,” a fabled artifact said to reveal the soul’s darkest depths. It is wrapped in a red cloth, hidden beneath a stack of yellowed parchments. The cloth bears stains—perhaps blood, perhaps tears. I unwind it carefully, revealing the mirror’s polished surface. Its edges are jagged, as if it has been shattered and painstakingly pieced back together. As I gaze into the mirror, my reflection wavers. The room behind me blurs, replaced by a moonlit forest. The mirror does not merely reflect; it conjures memories. I

It was old, the frame tarnished silver worked into a pattern of vines, the glass itself dark, like looking into a pool of standing water rather than a mirror. My reflection didn’t show up in it the way it should have. I turned it over in my hands, then carried it over to where Melissa was sleeping. “Melissa.” I touched her shoulder. “Wake up. I think I found something.” Her eyes opened, blinking blearily, and then sharpened the second they landed on the mirror in my hands. She sat up straighter.

This mirror had no reflection unless it was commanded to show one. I pressed my palm against its surface. It was cold. “Sumatra,” I whispered. The word was old. Older than my crown. Older than my name. I repeated it slowly this time. My voice sank into the mirror, pulled downward as though swallowed by a deep water. The silver veins ignited, glowing faintly, then brighter, until the surface of the mirror darkened entirely. Then it moved. The blackness peeled back, revealing stone, and roots. I recognized it instantly.

The mirror flickered, and the image was gone. Mira stumbled backward, heart pounding. “Adrian! AD—” He was already there, rushing in from the hall. “What happened?” She pointed, trembling slightly. “It—it talked back.” “The mirror?” > “No. Me. From the mirror. Future me, or cursed me, or some deranged version of me. She said not to trust the heart.” Adrian frowned, stepping closer to the glass. “The curse is merging reflections with memory. It’s creating possible outcomes.”

One of the girls asked. “In three days time, one of you will meet your destined mate. The other will have to be more patient to see hers". The mirror answered. “Thank you mirror. Have some fruits" The girls brought out a fruit basket to give to the mirror but the mirror refused to take it. The girls thanked the mirror again and walked away happily. “How come you did not demand anything from the girls but you demanded from me?". I asked the mirror with so much anger that I was unable to control.

“So we’re forced to pick between two girls who don’t even know they’re part of some sick game.” “We’re not picking anything,” I say firmly. “We’re going to figure it out.” “How?” Michael asks, glancing around like the answer might hide under a pile of dusty scrolls. “If they’re identical—” “They aren’t,” Eva cuts in. “Not completely. There’s a crack. The mirror showed it.” “The weird one?” Trixie raises an eyebrow. Eva nods. “It only reflects me. Not them. Not anyone else.” “That’s not possible,” Lenny whispers, as if speaking louder might break the spell. “We all looked.”