Pocket Mirror Harpae Novels & Stories

A warning. The mirror he forged—his mirror—has awakened. It was the last artifact he crafted before vanishing from the eyes of the world, hidden away after Queen Sarah’s fall. Forged from dragon bone and moonlight. Infused with bloodline truth. And now it has chosen a new bearer. He rises with a groan, his joints popping like old wood. The embroidered edges of his robe brush across the carved symbols as he moves to the window. The glass is long gone, leaving only wind and open sky.

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.

Mercifully so. "Barrel?" Kade asked. "Ready," Harp said, patting the patient wooden mouth like it was a dog that liked only him. We'd dressed it with honest staves and dishonest intent: a false bottom, a stoppered cavity for the mirror cylinder, stones for weight, and a bung trimmed to open only when a man knew the trick. "Rye," Kade said, as the sun finally remembered to redden. "You're Dock Six again. Jas is your shadow. If the harbour master sniff s too close, smile like a boy who thinks work is something you can steal."

A sleek surgical chair stood in the center. "You've been busy," Darius muttered. Mirabel looked at him without blinking. "And you're as pretty as the rumors say. Try not to bleed on anything." Elodie snorted. "I like her already." Mirabel gestured toward the bag Elodie carried. "Show me what you brought." They placed the drives on the counter. Mirabel's eyes widened slightly as she scanned the labels. "Echo Alpha," she whispered. "So it's true. Elijah completed the mirror phase."

I could not help but laugh at the irony. Glancing at the clock, I knew the greater haunts would soon arrive, promising another spectacle. As the midnight bell rang, they emerged. I lifted my hand, half-filled with gold coins, and summoned all the greater haunts to my bidding. After pocketing a fortune in gold coins, the greater haunts were under my thumb. I did not waste any time and gave the order straight away. "Time to head back to where you came from."

"If he’s cheating on me, I’ll have her head. I’ll kill them both." "Maria, wait," I said, but she wasn't listening. She was already limping toward the house, her emerald gown torn by the bushes. I looked down at the floor of the gazebo and saw something glinting in the moonlight. I picked it up. It was a small, silver pendant—a mirror-shaped charm. It was exactly like the one Diana wore. My heart dropped. The "Mirror of Malice" wasn't just a name for my marriage. It was a web, and we were all caught in it.

To Alaric, Caleb wasn't a hero, he was a reminder of the mistakes that led to the Thorne downfall. ​Suddenly, the lead vault sitting on the table in the center of the room began to hum. ​The silver mercury that had leaked from its seams didn't dry. It began to rise from the floor, defying gravity, swirling into a perfect, vertical circle. It formed a Silver Mirror, the surface rippling like a pond in a storm. ​“Don’t touch it!” Ryker shouted, moving to put himself between Elara and the mirror. ​But the mirror didn't attack. It began to show images nof the war, but of the past.

Every stride I took made my heart race. I said to myself, "I have to find it." "Before he's entirely gone." I once heard the Harbinger mention the Soul Mirror, an ancient relic buried deep within Elmath's ruins. Said to reveal a person's innermost feelings. Said to destroy evil or lies. However, none were aware of its existence. I didn't give a damn. I had to think it was true. I whispered, "I'm coming, baby," as I pushed through dense vines. "Wait for me."

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

he repeated. “I will remember your teachings.” Fred leaped to his feet and said, with an impish smile said, “Come with me.” Supporting him by the arm, we descended to his basement store, which had rows of shelves. In storage was his collection of hundreds of artifacts. There were the usual compasses, porcelain, paintings, statues, and rare stones. In the second row, he paused and picked up a mirror. “What is this?” “The Kami Mirror. Or the God's Mirror. It is a mirror encrusted in rare metal.“