Chapter Eight : Miranda and the Water Mirror
605 Words
Chapter Eight: Miranda and the Water Mirror
Miranda wasn’t like the others.
She didn’t want approval.
She didn’t ask questions.
She was the question the rest of them were too scared to voice.
Her element—water—was the sharpest thing in any room.
Not soft, not soothing.
Cutting.
Precise.
Unforgiving.
During training, Miranda moved like a knife through mist—elegant, cold, and unstoppable.
But somewhere along the way, she started disappearing.
Always around dusk, when the last bell sounded and the sky bruised purple.
Silent.
Unnoticed by most.
Kenna caught it first.
“She’s leaving,” Kenna said, crossing her arms one afternoon during drills.
“Leaving the compound,” she added, lowering her voice, “without triggering the glyphs.”
Lexie, ever casual, just shrugged.
“She’s always been good with reflections. Water mirror tricks. Maybe it’s a new spell.”
Maybe.
Maybe not.
One night, Shayne’s curiosity finally snapped its leash.
When he saw Miranda slip away, he followed—moving light-footed between the trees, slipping into the forest’s edge, heart hammering in his ears.
She didn’t look back.
Didn’t even seem to notice him.
Or maybe she did—and let him come anyway.
The trail led to the reflection pool, a wide silver basin tucked at the boundary of the compound grounds.
The air there was colder.
Still.
Even the stars above seemed hesitant to breathe.
Miranda knelt at the water’s edge, sleeves pushed up, bare arms covered in fresh cuts that bled slowly down to her fingertips.
A shard of broken mirror floated in the pool’s center, tilting back and forth with a will of its own.
Around it, drawn in a shaky hand, symbols bloomed—etched in salt, blood, and something darker.
For a second, Shayne didn’t know what to do.
Didn’t know if he should run or call for help or just vanish into the trees.
Instead, he said, voice cautious:
“What are you doing?”
Miranda didn’t flinch.
Didn’t startle.
She turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze across the water.
Her face unreadable.
Her eyes ancient.
“They’re not telling us everything,” she said, her voice soft and sharp all at once.
“Who?” he asked, stepping closer despite every instinct screaming at him to stay back.
“The teachers.”
“Nicole. All of them.”
She pressed a bleeding palm against the pool’s surface.
The water didn’t ripple.
It froze—not into ice, but into something darker, deeper.
Black.
Endless.
The reflection of the stars overhead winked out.
And for a moment, the pool wasn’t a pool at all.
It was a door.
A mouth.
A memory.
“They’re hiding something under the compound,” Miranda whispered, her voice swallowed by the black water.
Shayne swallowed hard.
Logic battled instinct.
He should have laughed it off.
Teased her.
Told her she was imagining things.
But he didn’t.
He didn’t say anything at all.
Because deep down, some old, forgotten part of him believed her.
Had always believed that magic this powerful—this beautiful and broken—came at a price no one wanted to name.
He stayed there, by the pool’s edge, until Miranda pulled her hand back and the water returned to normal.
Until the shard of mirror sunk slowly into the depths.
She left without a word.
And Shayne didn’t follow this time.
That night, when he finally managed to sleep, the dreams found him.
Dreams of vines curling through ancient stone.
Of roots clawing downward into darkness.
Of something older than spells.
Older than the Moonstone itself.
Something waiting beneath their feet.
- Writer
