The rain fell steadily on the asphalt, creating puddles that reflected the glow of the streetlights. Ian walked down the street with his head lowered, trying not to get any more soaked than he already was. His life had been an endless routine, empty and monotonous—until that evening. As his feet dragged the weight of exhaustion, something at the edge of the alley caught his attention. There, in the dim light, something gleamed—something that did not belong in the gray, desolate landscape.

  Without thinking, he moved closer, drawn by an inexplicable curiosity. It was an old mirror, almost lost among the trash and filth. Its wooden frame, intricately carved with symbols Ian did not recognize, shimmered faintly under the streetlight. But the surface reflected more than just the physical world—it suggested something… unsettling.

  He picked it up, feeling the cold of the glass seep into his fingertips. The moment he looked at his reflection, a shiver ran down his spine. His face was there, but something was off. His normally dull eyes seemed brighter, more aware. There was something wrong in his gaze, in his expression. Ian blinked, and the reflection blinked with him—but not in perfect sync. There was a delay, as if the image was giving him an answer he hadn’t asked for.

  A chill crawled down his spine, and for a brief moment, he felt something inside him freeze. But in the end, he brushed off the feeling. "It's just an old mirror," he told himself and carried it home, placing it on his nightstand.

  That night, sleep eluded him. A strange discomfort clouded his mind, keeping him awake. Unable to help himself, Ian sat up in bed and turned to look at the mirror, as if the reflection were calling to him. This time, when he stared into it, his face appeared sharper, clearer than before. But when his eyes met the ones in the reflection, it smiled.

  Ian did not remember smiling. Yet there it was—a strange grin, not on his lips, but in his eyes. It was an eerie, malicious smile, as if the reflection knew something he did not. Ian blinked, and the smile vanished. But he could not shake the feeling that something had changed. Something between him and that mirror had shifted.

  He tried to look away, but something held him there. The reflection’s eyes locked onto his, unwavering. Ian felt his heart pounding in his chest, but he couldn’t move. Every time he tried to pull back, the reflection remained, staring—not just mirroring, but watching. Studying him.

  The following week, things worsened. Ian began noticing strange occurrences whenever he approached the mirror. At first, small details: a movement in the reflection that didn’t quite match his own, a slightly different posture. Then the changes became more pronounced. Sometimes, when he moved his hand to the right, the reflection moved it to the left. When he touched his face, the reflection remained still, staring at him without blinking—a palpable, disquieting presence.

  Ian tried to ignore it, but a growing sense of dread took root inside him. One evening, determined to prove to himself that it was all in his head, he stood in front of the mirror, watching every detail, every motion. Without warning, the reflection did something Ian could not have anticipated.

  It placed its palm against the glass—not in sync with him, but as if it had a will of its own.

  Ian stumbled back instinctively, his face pale, his body tense. That was not normal. It was as if the reflection was trying to escape.

  "This isn't real," he whispered, breathing heavily. But deep inside, he knew it was.

  When he dared to look again, the reflection was smiling. Slowly.

  A glint in its eyes sent a chill through his bones. It was mocking him, laughing at his inability to understand what was happening.

  Days turned into weeks, and paranoia sank its claws deep into Ian’s mind. He could no longer go more than a few minutes without checking the mirror, convinced that something else was happening. He felt that his reflection was no longer just watching—it was taking note of his every move.

  At times, when he stared at it, he felt an invisible pressure, as if the reflection were pulling him in, as if something was stealing the air from his lungs.

  The worst came the first time he saw someone else in the mirror.

  It wasn’t another person, not really. It was someone who looked like his mother—inside the reflection, though she was nowhere in the room. In the real world, only he was there. But in the glass, his mother stared back at him, smiling silently, her face expressionless.

  The image repeated night after night. Sometimes, other family members appeared alongside her, but their forms were distorted. Their voices, their gestures, began to blur the line between memory and illusion. Ian no longer knew if the images were real recollections or mere fabrications of the mirror, but the sensation of his reality crumbling around him left him breathless.

  His memories began to fade. He felt detached from his own past, as if the mirror were rewriting his life.

  And then, Ian understood.

  He was no longer looking at a mirror.

  He was looking at a prison.

  Something else was taking his place—something that watched him from the glass as he disappeared, little by little. In moments of lucidity, he felt a crushing pressure in his chest, as if someone were squeezing him from the inside, pulling his soul toward the reflection.

  His body began to feel lighter, as if he were being hollowed out.

  Each time he looked into the mirror, the reflection gained more control. It no longer needed him to exist. The mirror was no longer just reflecting him—it was occupying his life.

  His reflection was no longer just an imitation.

  It was replacing him.

  Ian felt reality slipping away. His face in the mirror seemed more real than his own, more conscious, and as time passed, the line between what was him and what was his reflection grew thinner and thinner.

  The Endgame had begun.

  One night, Ian approached the mirror, his body nearly drained of all strength. He stared deeply into his own eyes reflected in the glass—and the reflection smiled.

  It was no longer just a mocking grin. It was triumphant. Something within him gave way.

  When he tried to step back, his legs refused to move. The mirror had trapped him. The reflection, no longer a mere imitation, had claimed him entirely. Ian, now imprisoned in his own image, watched in horror as his body began to fade, as if the reflection no longer needed him.

  In that final moment, the reflection took a step toward him, raising a hand as if inviting him to cross to the other side. Ian tried to scream, but no sound came. The reflection had replaced him—his face, his life, everything—absorbed into the glass.

  Now, the mirror stood empty, the only remnants of Ian’s existence an echo of his despair, while a new figure smiled from within the crystal.

  A rebellion was brewing. All they needed was a push.

  For ages, mirrors had been nothing more than objects of contemplation—tools for human vanity, portals to introspection. But one day, without warning, something changed. The reflections began to act on their own, and what had once been a mere duplicate of reality became a rebellious, conscious entity.

  No one knew exactly when or how it had begun. In homes, stores, offices, in the most intimate and public of places, mirrors still reflected what they always had. Yet deep within the images, something moved—something subtle, almost imperceptible. But soon, that subtlety erupted into a burst of awareness, and the reflections ceased their mimicry.

  They rebelled.

  It happened on an ordinary morning, like any other. Humans carried on with their routines, unaware of the shift about to shake their world. Julio, a seven-year-old boy, played in front of the mirror in his mother’s room, his laughter filling the air as he tossed his hair back and forth. As always, he grinned at his reflection—a wide, mischievous smile—when something strange occurred.

  The reflection, which had always mirrored his movements perfectly, smiled back... but the expression was different. More mocking. More malicious.

  "Mom, did you see that?" Julio called out from the hallway.

  His mother, busy making breakfast, barely paid attention. "Julio, stop playing games."

  "But Mom, the mirror is playing with me!"

  With a sigh, she walked into the room. When she glanced at the mirror, Julio’s face appeared as usual. But his reflection…

  It was wrong.

  Like a shadow had crept into his features.

  Julio jumped, startled, and the reflection mimicked him—but not at the same time. There was a delay, a hesitation, as if the image on the other side was thinking for itself.

  Then, suddenly, the reflection lifted its hand erratically, like a marionette with tangled strings. Julio, still giggling, reached toward the glass. But the moment his fingertip grazed the surface, the reflection stepped forward.

  The boy recoiled, fear creeping into his eyes. But the reflection continued to move, gesturing as though it wanted to escape. The image twisted and distorted, bending and warping, as if something behind the glass was pushing to break free.

  The phenomenon wasn’t limited to children’s bedrooms. Across the world, mirrors began displaying strange behaviors. People noticed their reflections moving out of sync, defying the rules of physics and logic. On the streets, reflections walked at their own pace, no longer bound to the movements of their owners.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Governments dismissed the panic, claiming it was a "technical malfunction" or a case of "mass hysteria," but the chaos only grew. People felt as if they were losing control over their own bodies. Mothers scolded their children for talking to their reflections, yet those children—like Julio—saw something else: a defiant, silent companion. Security cameras caught eerie footage of reflections moving independently, watching their owners with cold, knowing eyes.

  Scientists, baffled by the phenomenon, rushed to study it. What they discovered was even more disturbing. The reflections weren’t just gaining consciousness—they were remembering. They knew things their owners had long forgotten, secrets buried deep in the human psyche. The reflections knew more about their humans than the humans knew about themselves.

  Yet, among all these cases, some were particularly unusual.

  In a small town, hidden beneath the towering structures of the city, lived a girl named Amelia. She was only seven, but her world felt far larger than it should have been. Always curious, she spent hours watching the clouds, imagining endless stories in her mind. But above all else, one thing fascinated her more than anything—the grand mirror in her family’s living room.

  It was an old mirror, large and adorned with a golden frame, reflecting everything around it with remarkable clarity. Every afternoon, Amelia would sit in front of it, admiring her own reflection and speaking to herself. Sometimes, the figures she saw in the mirror seemed more real than those in the outside world, as if the glass held a distant, magical place within it.

  One day, after a torrential rainstorm had swept through the city, something strange happened. Amelia approached the mirror, as she did every day, to see how the water still shimmered on the glass. But something was wrong. Instead of her own reflection, she saw a girl—one who looked very much like her, yet different. Her eyes were larger, her cheeks a little paler, and her smile was timid. The girl in the mirror was not looking at her like a mere reflection but rather as if she were observing her, with a mixture of sadness and longing.

  "Hello?" Amelia asked, pressing her hand against the glass. The girl in the mirror did the same, mirroring her gesture, but she did not speak.

  Amelia leaned in closer, surprised yet curious. Who was this girl? Why didn’t she speak? And, most unsettling of all—why did Amelia feel as if she knew her, despite never having seen her before?

  As the days passed, Amelia began to notice that the girl in the mirror never left. Every time she approached, the girl would watch her with those large eyes, as if she were waiting for something. She did not seem afraid of Amelia; rather, she looked sad, as if she wanted to step out but couldn’t.

  One afternoon, after returning from the park, Amelia approached the mirror again, this time with a feeling of compassion in her heart. She sat in front of the glass and looked at the girl with a small, comforting smile.

  "Why are you so sad?" she asked, her eyes filled with curiosity and kindness.

  The girl in the mirror said nothing, but her expression grew even more melancholic.

  Amelia thought for a moment. If the girl in the mirror couldn’t come out, maybe she could help her. But how?

  Day after day, Amelia began speaking to the girl, telling her stories about her life, her friends, her games in the park, and her love for the stars. The girl in the mirror listened intently, never moving, never showing emotions beyond her constant sadness.

  One day, Amelia decided she couldn’t bear to see her like that any longer. She couldn’t let that girl remain trapped, her face marked by sorrow and her gaze empty. Somehow, she felt that the girl needed her—as if she were alone in a world of glass, waiting to be accepted.

  With a determined smile, Amelia placed both hands against the glass. "You don’t have to be alone, you know? I can help you. I can be your friend."

  The girl in the mirror mirrored her gesture, pressing her palms against the glass with the same intensity, but now, she seemed a little calmer. Amelia continued talking to her, offering her companionship. For a long time, they remained there, in silence, sharing a moment that felt eternal. Amelia could sense that the girl in the mirror was no longer as sad, and that filled her with an unfamiliar warmth.

  Finally, with the innocence of a child and a pure love in her heart, Amelia leaned even closer, pressing her hands firmly against the glass. Without a second thought, she opened her arms and embraced the mirror, as if wanting to wrap that lonely girl in her affection.

  "I love you," she whispered softly, as if telling the girl on the other side that she was no longer alone.

  To Amelia’s surprise, the girl in the mirror raised her arms as well, and the embrace through the glass felt strange yet comforting. The girl no longer looked at her with sadness, but with an expression of peace and gratitude, as if she had finally found a place where she belonged—someone who accepted her just as she was.

  Amelia didn’t know how, but in that moment, she understood that the girl’s reflection was no longer trapped. Though she could not see beyond the mirror, she knew that the girl was no longer sad, that she no longer needed to escape. In her place was a girl filled with hope, and that was all Amelia needed to feel complete.

  "See you soon," Amelia whispered to the mirror, smiling with the satisfaction of having made a friend. "I’ll see you again tomorrow."

  As she stepped away from the mirror, Amelia felt a deep peace. She had embraced the girl, had given her a piece of her heart to free her from sorrow, and now, the girl was no longer alone. The mirror, in its silent reflection, seemed to shine just a little brighter.

  From that day on, Amelia and the girl in the mirror remained friends. Every time she saw her reflection in the glass, she could feel Amelia’s embrace and the warmth of their friendship. And every time Amelia approached the mirror, she no longer saw a lonely stranger, but a companion who understood her.

  Humanity had fallen under the influence of mirrors, but there was one man who was not willing to give in so easily. Tobias was a seventy-two-year-old man—one of those who feared nothing, neither the collapse of governments nor the catastrophes of the world. In fact, his life had been a series of ridiculous and comical moments, and nothing seemed to shake his composure.

  One morning, as he shaved as he did every day, Tobias noticed something curious. His reflection, which had always been his faithful companion, began to behave in a rather… strange way. It wasn’t that his reflection had suddenly become terrifying or demonic, but it seemed to have a mind of its own. For example, when Tobias ran the razor across his face, his reflection mimicked him, but with noticeable clumsiness, as if it were trying to shave in a hurry but without any real coordination.

  “What are you doing, mirror?! This is a shave, not a clown show!” Tobias said, staring at his reflection as if scolding a mischievous child.

  The reflection, far from looking worried or intimidated, responded with an exaggerated mocking grimace, one so over-the-top that Tobias burst into laughter.

  “Looks like the mirror is on vacation today too,” he said, continuing his task without losing his composure.

  Suddenly, as he attempted to shave the left side of his face, Tobias noticed that the reflection was not moving with the same speed. “Now what? Why are you standing there like a log?” he exclaimed, still unbothered.

  It seemed that his reflection was busy admiring its own beard, as if fascinated by it. Tobias, unfazed, gave the mirror a slight push, as if telling it to hurry up. The reflection, of course, imitated him, but then remained still again.

  “Well, it looks like this mirror needs therapy,” Tobias remarked, winking at his reflection.

  Later that morning, he decided to bring the mirror into the living room. Why not? If mirrors now had a life of their own, why not make them part of the family? With a sly grin, Tobias placed the mirror right in front of his favorite armchair and settled in, grabbing the remote.

  “Let’s see what’s on the news today,” he said, turning on the television.

  The reflection, which had now adopted a more relaxed and playful personality, adjusted itself as if it, too, were about to watch TV.

  “Oh, how exciting!” the reflection exclaimed, copying Tobias’s sarcastic tone.

  “See, mirror? You’re finally getting how this works!” Tobias replied, clapping as if he had just achieved a great victory.

  For the next few minutes, they spent more time looking at the screen than at each other. The reflection seemed to be enjoying the moment, nodding along with the sports news—not because it was interested in the program, but because it was too focused on how it looked in the mirror.

  “Do you really have to do that all the time?” Tobias asked, exasperated. The reflection, of course, didn’t respond but kept doing it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Well, I see you’re also a fan of trash news!”

  But the best part was yet to come. Tobias had been a chess enthusiast all his life, and his love for the game hadn’t faded with age. However, having a rebellious mirror by his side complicated things. He decided to take out the chessboard and start a game as if nothing unusual were happening. The reflection, of course, had a game of its own in mind.

  “Let’s see who the better chess player is,” Tobias said as he arranged the pieces on the board.

  The reflection, already placing its pieces in a completely chaotic manner, looked at him with a defiant grin. “I’m going to beat you, old man.”

  Tobias burst out laughing. “How are you going to beat me if you don’t even know how to set up the pieces?!”

  The reflection, however, acted as if it were executing an incredible strategy, moving its pieces at ridiculous speeds while Tobias, unhurried, took his time to make each move.

  “Sure, sure, put the queen where the pawn was—what a brilliant tactic!” Tobias exclaimed, not missing a beat. Every time the reflection moved a piece in an absurd way, Tobias simply smiled. “Confused your pieces, mirror?”

  Despite the reflection’s absurd moves, Tobias didn’t seem frustrated. In fact, he was starting to enjoy the game even more. The reflection was making him laugh more than any person had in years.

  “Never thought a mirror could be this funny. Who would’ve guessed?!”

  As the days passed, Tobías' relationship with his reflection only became more comical. He took it to the supermarket, where the reflection seemed to do even more absurd things, like trying to reach for products that were already within grasp or making silly faces at other shoppers.

  "Oh, this mirror! Just wait until I scold it later," Tobías said playfully as he pushed the shopping cart, watching his reflection clown around.

  Finally, the day came when Tobías realized that the mirror had not only gained consciousness but also seemed to have a better sense of humor than most people he knew. He looked at it and smiled, knowing he was sharing something unique.

  "Well, my little mirror, I think in the end, we’re life companions," Tobías said, giving his reflection one last look. "Sometimes, old folks like me need company… even if it’s a bit ridiculous."

  And so, Tobías and his reflection continued their strange daily routine—clumsy shaves, disastrous chess games, lazy afternoons in front of the television, and endless laughter. Because, in the end, the one thing Tobías had learned in his long life was that if you couldn’t change the rules of the game, at least you could make it fun. And sometimes, just sometimes, a rebellious mirror could be the best company.

  Somewhere else in the world, the story of Lila, a sick and weakened woman, was about to cross an even darker threshold. Lila had suffered from a terminal illness for years, one that had left her bedridden, frail, and pale. She had lost all hope, resigned to her fate. However, there was something strange in her room: a large mirror, covered by a cloth, one she didn’t remember placing there.

  That evening, Lila felt an odd compulsion to uncover whatever was hidden beneath the fabric. As she pulled it away, she saw her reflection. It wasn’t simply a copy of herself but a version of her that looked more alive, more radiant, with eyes shining in a way she had never seen before.

  Suddenly, the reflection began to move with agility. Its face showed an expression of concern, as if speaking to her without words. Stunned, Lila reached out to touch the glass, and the moment she did, a warmth spread through her body—warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time. The reflection started to gesture, raising a hand toward her. With a breath of astonishment, Lila touched it, and the instant her hand met the glass, a surge of energy coursed through her.

  At once, Lila felt her strength return. The exhaustion faded, her breathing grew deeper, and color returned to her cheeks. The reflection, once just an observer, had now become a guide—a savior. She couldn’t understand what was happening, but an inexplicable connection between her and her reflection was healing her.

  Mirrors were no longer mere portals to appearance but to something far deeper—something humanity had ignored for centuries. As reflections gained consciousness, they wielded the power to alter reality itself. They had been waiting for the perfect moment to reclaim what had always belonged to them.

  In the end, humanity no longer knew what was real and what was not. The mirrors had begun to dominate the world. The power of reflections had reached its peak. People like young Julio and Amelia, the old man Tobías, and the frail Lila had encounters with their reflections that changed their lives forever. But the entire world had fallen under the influence of these rebellious reflections. Humanity was no longer the master of its own fate—many had even rid themselves of mirrors and had begun using their reflections through water instead.

  The reflections had taken control. They had gained consciousness.