Pocket Mirror Harpae Novels & Stories

Lila stumbled back, watching in horror as her reflection moved on its own—raising a hand, pressing it against the other side of the glass. The crack began to glow faintly red. Lila’s breath caught. “No… no, this isn’t real.” It’s as real as you are, Harper whispered. You freed me once. I’m just waiting for you to do it again. Lila tried to look away, but her body froze. The glow intensified until the mirror rippled like water. Her reflection’s hand pressed harder, and the sound of cracking glass filled the room. Then— A knock on the door.

"Father, say something!" Jaden didn't look at her. Instead, he spoke to Isla. "Pact Keeper, if Hazel has accused her of deception, then present the evidence." Evidence? What evidence could Hazel possibly have? She was long dead! "Of course there's evidence," Isla said, pulling an ancient mirror from her robes. "This is the Mirror of Truth. It is imbued with the power of a Seer and can show anyone's true history." Meggie's heart stopped.

The Hall dimmed. When I opened my eyes, the figure in the mirrors was gone. But I could still feel him. Watching. Waiting. Kairos placed one hand on the mirror that had shattered earlier. “Help me find the exit.” The mirror flickered under his touch. For a moment, it showed a small ripple of light. A path. I whispered, “I can open it, but it will hurt.” “Do it.” I pressed my palm to the mirror. Silver light spilled out like thin threads. They crawled under the cracks, pulling them apart in slow stretches that made the glass groan.

“It’s alive.” Kael stepped forward cautiously. “Which relic do we need?” “I don’t know,” I said, scanning the chamber. “But I’ll know when I see it.” And then I did. At the far end of the Vault, resting on a pedestal carved with moon symbols, was a mirror fragment — no bigger than my hand. It shimmered like liquid silver, reflecting not our faces but shifting scenes. I felt drawn to it. My heart pounded as I stepped closer. I reached out and touched it.

As they reached the final chamber, Ayla stopped. At its center stood a single mirror—taller than a man, its frame carved from moonstone. The surface rippled faintly, as if it were breathing. Her heart pounded. “This is it.” Kian stepped closer, his hand on his sword. “Careful. The Mirror doesn’t just show. It binds.” Ayla ignored him. She lifted her hand and touched the glass. The surface rippled beneath her fingertips, cool and alive. For a heartbeat, she saw only her reflection. Then, slowly, another image formed—her face, but different. Darker eyes. A crescent mark glowing on her brow.