Novel & Cerita Reflection Of Book

“What the bloody hell is that?” I moved away from Ryker, my eyes were solely fixated on the book. Wiping away the shattered glasses, I did not care if it would hurt me. Once it was clean, I read the book to Ryker. “It is the Book of The Damned.” All I wanted was to get a hold of that book and satisfy my curiosity but when I did, I could feel the power surging from the book, my hands were painfully attached to it. Then the book opened, forcing my palm to hold it up the pages started to flip rapidly. So many images flashed through my mind but none of which I recalled. The book slammed shut and I blinked. I turned to Ryker and swallowed before finding my voice to speak, “Did you see that?”

The morning light filtered weakly through the curtains, casting fractured patterns on the floor — much like my thoughts, splintered and jagged. I sat at the small kitchen table, clutching my cup of cold coffee, staring at the leather-bound book *Reflections of the Forgotten* open before me. The stories inside weren’t just tales — they were warnings, lessons written in sorrow and hope. Women who had lived as shadows, trapped in lives borrowed from others, fighting to reclaim their own reflections.

The reflection’s eyes burned with an eerie, golden light. The reflection stepped forward, the water rippling beneath their feet. “You wish to break the cycle, yet you are bound by it.” Elior’s heart pounded. “Who are you?” The reflection smiled. “I am what you could be. What you might become.” The reflection lunged. Elior barely raised his sword in time, their blades clashing with a force that sent ripples across the water. The reflection moved like a shadow, mirroring Elior’s every strike, every movement. It was a battle against himself, his fears, his doubts, his fate.

I nodded. “I think I will keep this book and find out.” He nodded and started to read another book. I look at the golden book I am holding. It has a mirror. I look at my reflection. “Does your mom didn’t teach you how to use this book?” He looks at me and sighs.

He was unable to read. "Now look at the reflection in the mirror". I turned the page to face the mirror. Knox was as shocked as I was and I do not think it is all those special effect mirrors . This is something else . I lifted my hand to touch the glass . My touch produces vibration in the glass like when something hits the water but other than that nothing else happened. We began to read the diary.

POV: Wolfy A book was a dangerous thing. A sword could cut you. A bullet could pierce you. But a book? A book could rewrite the software of your mind. It could change the parameters of your reality without firing a single shot. I sat in the corner of the barracks common room. The leather-bound volume heavy in my lap. Across from me, Neoma traced the letters on the page with a finger that still trembled slightly from the aftershocks of the Wastes.

That night, across the world, every reflection in the Blackwood estate rippled once—harmless, unnoticed. Water. Glass. Polished steel. Each shimmered briefly before going still again. And from somewhere deep within the shadows of that stillness, my voice whispered to the world: “The light burns bright… until it learns to look at itself.”

Still, I felt a chill run down my spine as Elias finally picked it up and opened it. Inside was a single sheet. In handwriting that looked eerily like mine, it read: “You can replace the mirror, but not the reflection”. I felt sick. "What does that mean?" Elias’ jaw was set. "It means she wants you to doubt yourself. To believe there’s another version of you that could take your place." I swallowed hard. "And is there?" "No," he said immediately, with confidence that calmed something in me. But the questions had already been planted.

she said to herself. The fourth book begins at chapter 1 in Paris. The End.

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