Reflection A Twisted Tale Novels & Stories

“Step away from him!” The reflection’s eyes turned toward her — and for a fraction of a heartbeat, they weren’t Kael’s eyes at all. They were Rhovan’s. “You shouldn’t have anchored the wound,” it whispered. “You gave it memory. Now it will never heal.” Before Draven could move, the reflection slammed its palm into the ground. The earth erupted in a wave of silver shards, throwing them all backward. Light flooded the Vale again — blinding, searing — as the reflection dissolved into smoke and wind.

Intentionally remembering all the bad things that happened in the past , I started howling. My eyes looked up, there was a mirror which would reflect myself if I stood up but I don't want to see myself now as now I'm in the most gentle trauma that I will be screaming at myself if I saw myself in the mirror. I brought my knees close to my chest and leaned on the wall hugging my knees. My head is feeling heavy due to tones of shading tears. I put my head on the bridge of my hand which was on my knees, closing my eyes for a while. I livid a minute of darkness.

She stood taller than her fear, the Hollow’s power flowing through her veins. “I didn’t.” The reflection snarled. “Then I’ll unmake you myself.” The Hollow trembled. The spiral buckled and reformed, shards of memory rising and falling like breath. Old voices whispered at the edges, bearing witness. Spirals shattered. The reflection raised one hand—and every shard of every memory in the Hollow rose like blades. Images flickered in their surfaces: childhood laughter, grief, triumph, all weaponized now, spinning in a storm around them.

Andres stared straight ahead, suppressing a grin. Ainara’s mouth fell open for a second, then she swallowed hard. “Don’t start.” She stared straight at the elevator doors. But because they were reflective, she could clearly see their reflections. And Andres was eye-f*cking her from there.

The hinge held. Time went strange. The slit window greyed. The map on the table spotted with Sophia’s sweat. Isolde was not in the room; Sophia was glad of that with a ferocity that surprised her. Liora was somewhere below with the other counted. This was not a dynasty scene. This was a body emptying itself in a war gallery while a father sat chained to the proof that ink was not destiny. The last stretch was a tearing. Sophia felt herself open beyond sense, a burn so bright it whited the edges of the room. She pushed on a scream she did not recognise as hers. Aurora said her name like a rope. Marcus said nothing. Raven did not turn.

She took few steps away from the door and turned around to take one more glance at the building, her eyes caught sight of the reflection of her image on the glass door. She raised her brows in confusion and moved close to the door; right there in the mirror was the image of the man she had bumped into earlier, the rude jerk who had spilled coffee on her. Is this real or is she dreaming? She wondered. She slapped herself on the cheeks and rubbed her eyes roughly before opening it again, but the image on the glass didn’t change. She let out a sharp scream, that drew attention at her. Meanwhile, the guards had arrived to Guard the young master’s ward. William opened the door and probed his head

I lifted my free hand, and my nails elongated into sharp claws. Sliding one claw against the palm of my hand, I cut my flesh. It wasn’t very deep, but it was enough to cover the crest in blood when I squeezed my hand. At first, nothing happened, but then the necklace lit up with a purple light. It was dim at first but then increased in brightness until it was nearly blinding. In an instant, the entire room was lit up with a flashing light, but it was gone just as quickly. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the suddenly blinding light, but when I could see clearly, I saw twelve black wolves circle me, covered in a purple haze.

He looked like an animal from a horror movie, his face was buttered up with blood, swollen and his lips were cut too. “Because I know something you don't.” He says in an attempt to save himself. “And you are going to tell me that something so your death is less painful.” Siya’s voice is filled with authority and death. “Msunu ka nyoko.” Fingers spits. (Your mother's cunt) He spits blood on the floor and then smirks. Siya keeps a poker face on. Sanele has been smoking a cigarette, while Snakes has been peeling off an orange fruit. Fingers strapped on an electronic chair.

“Work. Apparently, there is a stray asking for help.” --- Trigger Warning: This story is rated 18+. It contains descriptions of acts such as non-consensual sex, abuse, suicide, and other heavy negative emotional activity which some readers may find triggering. Please keep that in mind when moving forward with reading this story. Thank you! <3

he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The flight home was long, and somewhere over the ocean, the quiet of the cabin made it easy for the words to slip out. I told Alf everything. I told him about the first night I met Aleksander, how an innocent date had turned into captivity, the accusations of romance scams, and the impossible contract that followed. Alf listened in silence, his face unreadable, though I caught flickers of disbelief and something heavier beneath it all. “Do you know the nephew who did that?” I asked when I finally finished, my voice low.