Rapunzel Mirror Novels & Stories

In the quietude of his room, with the soft hum of the night outside, Asher lay there, his tired body seeking reprieve, while his restless mind continued to navigate the labyrinth of emotions that Ezra's presence had stirred within him. On the other side of the night, in the quiet solitude of her room, Ezra sat in front of her mirror, eyes fixed on her reflection. Droplets of water trickled down from her long hair, evidence of the refreshing shower she had just taken. As she stared into her own eyes, a flood of memories from the reunion surged through her.

She told them to be ready at midnight as they will have a banquet for the return of the crown prince. Ibrahil leads her to the grand staircase. It was made of glass and it was sparkling. Never in her wildest dream that she will be in this kind of place. Everything was just extraordinary that everything she saw always puts her in awe. She doesn't want to make even a single step. She was scared she might stain it. Ibrahil held her hand and look at her full of fascination. "What?" She asked annoyed. "C'mon Andy, the stairs won't hurt you," he chuckled.

"If you pass the test, I will give you the mirror of mirrors myself. If you fail, you die. Do you understand?" "I understand" "Good" she said, a slow smirk creeping onto her lips.I swallowed hard.Was I ready? I honestly don't know."Close your eyes" Yaran said. I narrowed my eyes. What was she up to? "Do you want the mirror of mirrors or not? You have to cooperate with me" I exhaled slowly and closed my eyes. ********

Jessie shook her head, mumbling something about how he never knew how to be gentle before she smiled and went back to dipping her brush in wild strokes of emerald. In the end, the vanity screamed of odd personality and charm. Squiggled with doodles and phrases of clashing colors, it looked like a collection of graffiti that traced back to each other with a singular collision of lines. On the surface of the mirror they each had painted a single heart. At Ben's instance, they had made each of the points connect to form a round symbol at the bottom of the glass edges. Staring back at them was the image of the three of them with smiles, hearts scattered around their reflection.

he added, one side of his mouth quirked upward. “What? But how?” asked Arla. She was relieved to learn that she hadn’t been seeing things, but it still seemed just as crazy to realise that there was, indeed, someone talking in the mirror. “Hello, young Arla, I’m Elder Laurel of the Ochre Coven,” she said, turning her attention to Arla. “This is one of my enchanted mirrors. Where did you find it?” “Um, from the antique store in town,” Arla replied.

The chairs and wardrobe pushed aside to accommodate its thick gilded frame; a large mirror had been propped against the bedroom wall. Ancient symbols scrawled over its reflective surface, it hummed with the lines of a spell that was being spoken in a long dead tongue. The glass beginning to reverberate from the collective force of the enchantment, it shuddered violently in the confines of its wooden support for some time. A faint ringing eventually heard emerging from the mirror. It was abruptly followed by the harsh pang of cracks forming across its surface.

Something like grief reflected in his eyes and my body shuddered, trying to take me away from delirium, however, I was held by that network of thoughts and Miguel said: "There is an artifact called a water mirror in the dungeons of this castle, it was made as a perfect mold of the same that exists where I live. In the world I live in," he clarified, quickly looking away to see if his friends were still oblivious to all the dialogue that only Miguel could hear. “Go to the mirror. Its waters are healing." "I can't move," I replied, and our eyes closed for a second when I returned to my own body abruptly, losing the strength of my own consciousness.

Or maybe it’s because it’s too late for the work shift and too early for the mommy shift. When I see no one is looking, I say the words to cast the spell to change my appearance to my mother. I had found the spell when I had been looking for something else. At first, I hadn’t been able to conjure it without a potion, but as I got older, and I practiced, it came more easily. Angel gasps. “Is that your mother’s image?” “Yes.” “She was a beautiful woman,” she says kindly. I let the spell drop. “Thank you.”

Hans, wanting to ensure he received his share of the credit, stepped forward and said, "I have a treasure that can record images of this place as evidence." "Thank you so much, Hans," several immortals responded. Hans fished out a mirror and began recording the surroundings. However, what everyone saw left them stunned. The images captured by the mirror were completely different from what everyone else saw. In fact, they were two entirely different scenes. If an outsider viewed them, they would likely believe they were pictures of two completely different locations.

Crimson light flares, illuminating the mirror's interior, which is… my reflection, a million times over, like multiple versions of me are folding into one. Naomi’s voice is faint, overwhelmed by the blood thrumming through my veins, as she says the spell. At first, nothing happens. The world continues to spin. The rain continues to send echoes through the castle. Then, when I nearly give up, letting the crushing, unexpected reality that this might be in vain sweep through me, the mirror begins to tremble. “Fallon?” Naomi gasps. “Keep going. Read it again.”