Novel & Cerita The Smoking Mirror Chapter 1

The reflection in the mirror smiled—her own face, moving without her. And the woman inside whispered, “You don’t belong here, stranger.” --- End of Chapter 1 Next: “Chapter 2 – The Lady in the Mirror”

"I'm glad you like the smell too." Just as he took a peek at the right mirror, he noticed that she was fiddling her thumbs on her lap once again. She was nervous, he figured then thought that it wasn't such a wonder since this is their first time being almost physically close aside from sitting side-by-side on the stools attached to his kitchen countertop and in an environment aside from his house too. He turned his eyes sideways to look at the rear-view mirror, then the left-wing and the right-wing once again, and noticed that her nose suddenly perked and when he focused his eyes back on the road, he heard faint sniffs and her voice asked, "Do you smoke?"

And then the bond burns. Not with his pain this time—but something else. Something vast and watching. I freeze. Slowly turn. A mirror stands at the end of the street. Except there’s no street. Just—black water where cobblestones should be, rippling without sound. And the mirror’s frame is made of bone. I take one step toward it—don’t even know why— —and the reflection moves before I do. It smiles. And I realize it’s not me. Not really. Come closer, it whispers.

Chapter 28 The mirror emitted smoke from its sides, reaching out for my nostrils, which soon aired a cough in me. My eyes stung, and I waved my hand to the air, trying to whip it off in front of my face. “What . . .” I eye one last whiff of that fog moving away before my gaze lowered to what its absence revealed. Behind all that smoke was a large moving image of Shadowridge Pack, just seconds as I was passing away. It’s as if I’m seeing it from another person’s point of view, as though I’m standing from the crowd witnessing my own self dying afar.

She felt them all. Slowly walking towards some, feeling them underneath her fingers tips. Cautious, but curious at the same time. The chains and cuffs dangling in her wake. Eventually her eyes landed on the mirror. The smoked mirror, dark, fixed on the right wall facing her. Giving the entire room visual. You could see every inch of yourself, no matter where you stood in the room, in the mirror. She saw herself, then saw it too. The main dish for the evening. My dessert.

The mirror cracked with a loud sound. Camela stumbled back, her sobs choking in her throat. Vincent’s reflection didn’t disappear. His golden eyes kept staring at her, and his smile cut through the glass like a blade. Her phone lay on the floor, buzzing again, but she couldn’t reach for it. Instead, her trembling hands gripped the wall tightly. “No…” she whispered. “Why…why are you still here?” The mirror stayed silent. Yet, his reflection tilted its head slowly and deliberately, like a predator deciding when to strike.

*Isabella* October, 1885 Acrid smoke singes my nostrils. My lids heavy, I blink, trying to open my eyes. Even as slits, they burn from the gray cloud all around me. Faint sizzling crackles in my ears. The fire is close, so near I can feel the lick of flames devouring the ends of my fur. The breeze carries shouts, screams, and howls of both the terrorized and the taunting variety. I struggle not only to regain my vision, but to remember what happened before the incessant pain that radiates up my left side sent me careening into darkness.

My fingers tingled. The stairs ended in a wide underground chamber. Lit by glowing orbs floating above black marble. The walls were carved with runes. Shelves lined with scrolls. Vials. Bones. Ancient spellbooks. And in the center? A mirror. Not just any mirror. It shimmered like water. Swirled like smoke. I stepped closer, eyes narrowing—until suddenly, the mirror flared with light, and a vision appeared. Golden wings. Burning eyes. A man screaming in rage. My breath caught.

Valkhara The Mirror Chamber was silent when I entered. Not peaceful. Not calm. The kind of silence that screamed. No footsteps echoed. No wind stirred. Only magic pulsed in the walls alive and waiting. The door sealed behind me with a deep, final thud. I didn’t flinch. I wouldn’t give them that. Glass surrounded me ceiling to floor. Every wall reflected the room, the door, the pedestal in the center. But not me. I had no reflection.

The runes and symbols flickered behind my eyelids, glowing faintly as I whispered my intention. “Take me to one of the artifacts.” The air trembled. When I opened my eyes, the world had changed. I stood at the edge of a strange clearing where the stones beneath my boots pulsed with a wispy glow. I’d been able to escape the miasma but its stinking smell lingered on my uniform. The air smelled of iron, earth, and smoke. I stepped closer, my boots scraping against the uneven ground, and then I saw it from a distance —a shattered mirror.