Through The Looking Glass Ruins Novels & Stories

Images flashed in her mind—flickering lights, jagged landscapes, and an overwhelming sense of urgency. “There’s another fracture,” she said, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of sensations. “But it’s... different. It’s not forming. It’s already there, waiting.” Crane leaned forward, his expression tense. “Do you know where?” Emma opened her eyes, the glow of the key reflected in their depths. “The ruins. Near the eastern ridge.” Vivienne’s smirk faded, replaced by a frown. “The ruins? That place is a labyrinth. If the force is setting a trap, that’s exactly where it would do it.”

Garrick had said in his last seconds before disappearing into the darkness, and I had followed that hint, that whisper: “The truth lies beneath the ruins.” I had no option but to look for it. The ruins in question were located deep within the Nightclaw stronghold's deserted subterranean chambers, which were old tunnels that existed before the packs. Unaffected by time and forgotten by people who were afraid of what was inside, the entrance had been concealed beneath thick roots and fallen stone. My hands were bleeding from picking through the rubble, and I had been clearing the way for hours. I was now on the verge of something much older than I could understand.

Each step left no shadow. In the distance, she could see them—fragments of glass jutting from the earth like the ribs of a fallen god. The Mirror Hall wasn’t a building. It was a ruin suspended between dimensions, half-solid, half-reflection. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “It’s a trap,” Kian replied grimly. “Probably both.”

And that's also the 'Somewhere' I mentioned before. Riche - I see, and you object to the ruins being destroyed in order to conceal that? Tio - Think of it what you will. You'll understand everything when we get there. And you need to buy special shoes to cross the desert because that's where the ruins are located. Ramius - Then let's go get those shoes and head towards the ruins. Gurigura - Um... Can I come too? Issei - Of course. We're glad to have you, Gurigura.

He agrees with a slight shudder. We make our way to the front door and the second we step in, I freeze. There’s destruction everywhere like a caterpillar just drove in through the large room taking down everything in its path. Shards of glass glint under the chandelier light, a mockery of what was once a massive mirror now reduced to jagged, cruel edges that look ready to pierce if handled the wrong way. The coffee table made of mahogany is lying overturned with its legs snapped like broken bones. Apart from that are vases, picture frames and a crystal decanter now lying in ruins on the marble floor.

“Even that fool was able to decipher it. It was all a game for them.” “No, I can’t have her ruin my life,” Josephine muttered as she walked toward the tall mirror in her room. She stared at her reflection. “Selena, I will not have you and your daughter play me like a fool. You think I will wait around while you strike, Violet dear?” Her voice was stained with disdain.

He carried a large bouquet of roses and looked at me with a mix of regret and longing. "I was blind, Rosie. It felt like I was living in a dream before. Now that I've woken up, I realize I can't live without you." The set fell silent as everyone turned to watch. Allen had no shame declaring this in front of so many people. I felt thankful for having eaten lightly that morning; at least I had not thrown up yet. Allen continued his self-absorbed speech, "Can you give me another chance? Let's start over. We were engaged after all—"

The Weight of What Remains There are moments that split your life in two — the before and the after. You don’t always see them coming. Sometimes they’re quiet, slipping in on an ordinary night. Sometimes they arrive with the sound of a door being kicked in and a gun going off. Either way, when the dust settles, you realize the person you were before no longer exists. I’ve lived through more of those moments than I care to count.

Suddenly, the smoke shifts, and I see the glass greenhouse at the edge of the cliff. But it isn't beautiful anymore. The thousands of white roses on the floor are dead, turned into black ash. The thousands of candles have melted into pools of liquid wax that look like tears. And standing right in the center of the ruins, under the broken crystal chandelier, is Rosalina.

And oh God. He had the kind of face that made you look twice. Dark hair that fell carelessly across his forehead, like he'd run his hands through it too many times. A jaw sharp enough to cut glass, covered with stubble that suggested he'd either just rolled out of bed or didn't care about looking polished. But it was his eyes that held me, storm-gray and uncomfortably direct, like he could see straight through whatever mask I was wearing. A small scar cut through his left eyebrow. That detail felt important somehow. It kept him from being too perfect, too untouchable.