Through The Looking Glass Ruins Mga Nobela at Kwento

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.

Her body convulsed with sobs, her last defenses crumbling, torn away piece by piece. In the end, she closed her eyes, surrendering to despair. But just as the final shred of her dignity was about to be ripped away, the door exploded inward with a deafening crash.

I called out, voice tighter than I wanted it to be. No response. Just the shifting of the silver fog, like something holding its breath. Back at the center of the ruins stood an obsidian altar—smooth, unmarked, but humming with something I couldn’t name. On top of it, a mirror. Small. Round. Framed in rusted black iron, covered in hand-carved runes that pulsed like veins. I looked into it. And what I saw wasn’t me. It was me—but older. Far older. Hair completely gray. Eyes sunken. Back slightly hunched, not from age, but from surrender.

Towards the Hierarch’s grave. The marsh sucks at our boots. The air hangs thick, tasting of decay and something sharper, like broken glass. The sky ahead isn't dark. It's wrong. A swirling vortex of bruised purple and sickly green, swallowing the moonlight. The ground vibrates with a low, hungry hum. At its heart, visible even from here, a shard of dark glass pulses like an infected wound. The last Mirror fragment. The Child stumbles, their breath ragged. The aging… it cost them. Not just power. A piece of their warmth. The null-field’s disruption lingers. They look fragile. Human.

I looked at the dark, jagged peaks of the mountains rising ahead—the gateway to the Ruins. "No, Leo," I whispered, the mercury tears stinging my eyes. "We're going to the heart of the machine. And we're going to break it."

Elara's POV The glass became foggy with moisture. Tiny beads of water slid down its sides, catching the light like something pure and harmless. I watched them race toward the coaster as the room buzzed softly with low voices and quiet footsteps. Nothing about the drink looked dangerous. That was the problem. Ruin had moved the safehouse again after the alarms to another buried place beneath another forgotten building. The Iron Reapers called it quiet. To me, it felt like a held breath.

Violet POV “ Stupid irish brut” I hissed walking to the closet to pick up my clothes for the night. “ I’m going to pay you back for humiliating me and making your stupid guards touch my skin, you arrogant, stupid, toxic dumb head” I screamed at the empty room, throwing a hanger across the room. I caught my reflection in the mirror and stopped dead, I have never looked this horrific, my hair was a mess and clothes were ruined stained with whatever disgusting filth on that warehouse floor.

“Be warned.” This doesn’t just seduce you. It ruins you. For anyone else. For any future. For the life you thought you wanted. And once you’re ruined… there’s no going back.

Romy pov The air inside the main conservatory was a freezing maze of broken glass, hanging vines, and white winter snow. Outside, the loud roar of the vanguard battle had finally died down to a low rumble, but inside these glass walls, the silence was sharp and dangerous. The massive iron frames of the greenhouse had been twisted out of shape by stray mortar rounds, and millions of tiny glass shards covered the stone floorboards like a blanket of diamonds. I stepped through the ruins without making a single sound, my heavy leather combat boots finding the clear patches of dirt between the glass with absolute precision.