Mrs. Groscow observed her seventeen year old daughter as she walked down the stairs a visible scowl on her lips. Her tongue flicked through her teeth and the wine glass was swooshing dangerously on her fingers.

Jeans booty shorts and of course a purple tank top. Mia stopped at the end of the stair and crosses her arms.

"So you've resorted to flaunting? I see you gave up on your face." The first thing she uttered to her, kicking up her left leg across the right one.

Mia rolled her eyes and shifted her weight to her right foot.

"You're too fat for those shorts."Her mom points out blankly taking another sip of her drink. " You got a lot of mirrors to check that out for yourself, don't you?"

"I know. And that is why apps were created." She whispered but her mom caught  it, a small smile tugging at the end of her lips. The older woman's brow creaked app and she mused at her words.

"Why didn't you go to school today?" She chose to change the subject leaning back on the couch.

"My face." Mia obviously stated. She had vowed not to ever apply make up... Although she wanted to; apply concealer on her zits, mascara, a little lipstick perhaps.

'Oh my goodness Mia!You look like an undercooked turkey!' Her mother's words.

"I don't give a hoot miss! You have to go to school whether you look ugly, or uglier."

Luke Groscow got in at this moment. A male servant took his coat, briefcase and car keys. According to Annah, no female hand shall lay her hand on her man.

She was right to be protective, after all Luke was a male model, a really good looking male model younger than Annah by three years.

"Hey honey." He greeted his wife and made for the little drink area. "Hello Mia."He voiced to her daughter lifting the drink to her in some sort of a toss. She gave him a small smile.

He then walked back across the room and slumped down the comfy white couch. Pure fur.

"Your daughter missed school, again!" Annah started going back to the random act of flicking her tongue inside her mouth.

"Why?"

"Puberty. Look at her ugly face."

"Annah!" Luke raised his voice a little. He nervously watched Mia at the corner of his eye.

An uncomfortable silence enveloped them for about a minute.

"What's wrong with that? She's bright." Luke said in a monotone. A little low this time.

"That doesn't mean she can miss school, Luke."

"I need a shower." Luke announced downing his drink.

He walked to Mia and cupped her cheek. "You'll be fine. At least now everyone will want to look at your pretty face."

Mia smiled. Her dad always gave her hope. Always made sure she was smiling.

Yet her mom was the complete opposite. She is the one who got her a full make up set... Indirectly telling her you're ugly, yet she's still the one who hated the same make up on her.

"Just give me a minute and we'll go get that mirror, okay?"

Mia nodded. Yester night she was so mad she punched her bathroom mirror six times, getting hurt in the process.

Because she let her mother's words get to her.

•|•

They drove out of their expansive house onto a private road for five minutes before joining the main road.

Mia looked outside the window as they passed the mall. She didn't want to get her mirror from the mall because most of her schoolmates hang out there... and she wouldn't be seen dead with her pimply face.

They were going to an old shop downtown belonging to an old black man. She found the place after getting lostin the area. Of course she had to glance around before asking for directions.

"Here we are." Her dad announced stopping the car.

"I'll go alone." Mia quickly stopped her dad from unbuckling his seat belt.

She didn't want him to see her posing in front of mirrors, possibly giving herself a complimenting speech and other self embarrassing acts. "Just wait here. I will try not to take long."

"Well, okay..."

The door chimed on opening and the shop was visibly empty. No shopper appeared to be present apart from her.

"Hello?"She called looking around. The reception area was also empty. She decided to walk around the isles, admiring the fancy, plain and artistic mirrors.

"Hello?"She called out again. Last time he was here. The man was odd and always zoned out in his speech and it spooled her a little but he was no threat.

"Careful young girl, your voice might break the mirrors!" Mia whipped around immediately a little startled. The old man closed the door, made of a mirror that it actually looked like he was coming out of it.

He had the same old tired but warm smile on his face.

"Good evening Mr.William you do remember me?"

"Well of course!" He laughed and walked to her to shake her hand. "You're the crazy one, right?" His hands were rough and crusty and he possessed a firm grip. He released her hand finally and walked behind the counter.

Entirely reflective.

"What can I interest you with miss Groscow?" She was a little amazed that he remembered her awkward second name. Nevertheless, she spoke up.

"I need a bathroom mirror."

"Just that? Oh we have a lot... Framed perhaps? Slitted?"

"I need your most clearest mirror."

"Clearest?"

"Yes clearest, doesn't matter really, it'll still work."

"Well,all my mirrors are clear as you see, but you do want the clearest?"

"Yes."

"Okay then." The sir walked from the counter and walked to the door he had come out earlier.

"Come on, you have to pick for yourself... I have two of them, nobody really seemed interested in having the clearest mirror so they stay up back.

Mia nodded. She half trusted the man enough to set her teaser at 60V, not too much to kill him or paralyse him.

The back of the store was like a workshop. Wood and mirrors, noise from the glass cuter worked by a man and a set of boys preparing a frame.

"Here we are." Mr.William announced walking past the two boys.

He opened a closet and called one of the boys to help him take them out. Mr.William stood them on the width side leaning on the wall.

They were clear, more than Mia ever imagined. The surface seemed like a calm river, promising a ripple if the surface was gently poked.

But one had a slight crack on the left corner, and given the angle of a perfectionist by her mother, she picked the other one.

It was framed with dark brown wood and carved into a beautiful pattern. It looked ancient,and she fell in love with it. She took one last look of herself and smiled.

She turned and waited for Mr.William to finish showing the boys how to smoothen the edges.

"Which one will it be?" Mr.William asked still helping his boys out.

"The framed one."

"You got it, give me a minute."

Mia wanted to turn and look at it once more. Her reflection on it was beyond perfect, it was beautiful. It gave her a sense mysterious sense of security. She opted to look around the place, placing her hand over her lips.

If only she would turn then maybe she would change her mind, because her image was still smiling.

Beauty can be overwhelming sometimes. Mia punishes herself for being what the society calls 'ugly' striving to create a picture perfect image. She builds up an odd obsession to mirrors.

But no matter the clearest mirror she'll get, she's still the same old face. This time however, the mirror is not only the clearest, it's the scariest... She ends up being thrown into a world belonging to the dark forces, and she has no choice but to choose survival, that is until she is able to escape and claim her old life and stolen identity back.

Charming Luscious, a demon in training has other plans and so does a few who come to learn of a mortal in their world.

Just as Jemima was about to open her mouth to ask what a Noble was and what it had to do with the King, the wooden door to the room swung open with a loud bang. Three heavily armoured men filed into the room, their presence intimidating and commanding, swords swinging back and forth.

Quietly, under his breath, Oscar growled, "Knights."

Jemima had no idea what he meant by that, but there was no time to ask. She fell still, watching the three men as the largest eyed her suspiciously.

He stalked forward, and in a steely voice, announced, "Noble Greyleaf, I trust that you are in good health after your quite unfortunate accident. The King requires you to return to training." 

He paused, and threw a disgusted look at Oscar, who was sitting with his head bowed, silent, his silvery-blond hair falling over his face, the book trembling slightly in his large, pale hands.

"As for you, Commoner Darkland," the man spat 'Commoner' like it was an insult, eyes dark with hate, "You may be dismissed." 

Jemima watched as Oscar closed the book and placed it lightly on the chair, straightened, clenched his fists and walked out the door, his whole body rigid with tension. The door clicked closed softly behind him, and Jemima felt a pang of pity for him. 

The Knight turned back to Jemima, sitting in the bed with her eyes bright and curious, and continued speaking like nothing had happened. 

"If I am honest, Noble, I do not know what you see in that Commoner. He is nothing but a worthless orphan, left on the streets to fade away. Nothing more, nothing less. But you treat him like an equal- you let him treat you like you two are equal-" 

Jemima raised a hand. This man got on her nerves, with all his talk about being equal, and she was determined to tell him that. Jemima had never been one to hide her opinions, and from what she had seen, Oscar was nothing but a loyal, and devoted friend. Even though she knew nothing about the hierarchy of this strange world, she assumed that Nobles were above Knights.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth to speak. Jemima didn't know where she got the words from, but they flowed swiftly out of her when she barely understood what they meant herself.

"Knight, that is enough. I am allowed to befriend whomever I like, whether it is a fellow Noble, or a 'lowly Commoner' as you call them. Are you questioning your higher up's choices? Because this is how I see it." Jemima flashed a glare at the Knight, who had gone quite still.

"Noble I- I meant no disrespect, forgive me!" The Knight bowed deeply, fear obvious in his stiff stance.

"It does not matter what you meant. Do you have anything else to tell me or was the only thing you came to say was to judge who I make friends with?" Jemima inquired in a icy cold voice, eyeing him.

The man straightened quickly and fumbled with a piece of paper, and opened it with a small tearing sound.

"Ahem. The King and Council require your presence at the meeting today, late afternoon, once you have finished training, for a meeting of the King's Council."

Jemima nodded her acknowledgement. "Alright. If that is all, you may be dismissed."

The three men bowed and turned to exit. As they opened the door, Jemima's voice sounded out again.

"Knight. One more thing."

"Yes, Noble?" The leader asked, turning back around to face her respectfully.

"If you see Commoner Darkland, send him back to my room." She commanded.

"Understood."

The moment the men left the room, Jemima let out a long breath. That didn't go as bad as she had feared. Alone in the room, she looked around and took in her surroundings again.

It was quite plain, four grey walls covered in draping and tapestries. The door was on the left side of the bed, and windows framed in floor length, blood red curtains to the right. Against the left wall, near the door, was a plush red and gold sofa, and in the right corner of the wall opposite the bed was an intricately designed door that Jemima thought probably led to the toilet and bathroom. A gold framed mirror hung above a desk on the same wall, next to a crackling, cheerful fire, with wood to top it up sitting on a small rack next to the desk.

Quietly, carefully, Jemima slipped out of the bed and placed her bare feet on the plush white carpet. Not used to the extra weight her new male body had, she stumbled slightly, feet tripping over each other, then quickly regained her balance. The carpet's warm threads, warmed by the fire, swallowed her feet with each step as she padded slowly over to the mirror. Jemima inspected the reflection in the mirror staring back at her.

A handsome male face stared back at her, with bright green, sparkling, playful eyes, short, sandy brown hair and light olive toned skin, a small earring hanging from his left ear, clothed in a loose white shirt and nothing more. Jemima stared for another moment, then reached a finger out and up to touch the mirror ever so lightly. 

"So it's real...I'm not dreaming-" she murmured, half to herself. Hearing her voice sound softly through the room, made it all seem more real. 

"Of course it's real." A cocky voice broke through Jemima's reverie, and she spun around towards the door, surprised. "Did you really think you imagined it all?"

There stood Oscar, leaning against the door with his arms crossed, all the fear and timidity from before gone, his eyes burning silver. A smile as wide as the devil's lit his face up at he met her gaze.

"C'mon, there's no reason to looked so surprised. Let me take you on a tour of the castle!" Oscar laughed.

What would you do, if one day, you woke up in an entire different world, in an entire different body, with a corrupt King who is tearing his kingdom apart?

I must admit that dying wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. It was definitely not nice, by any means, but I just thought that there would be more to it. What I didn't expect however, was that death would feel so much like life.

I look at the silky blanket covering me. It's a nice green and very expensive looking. Actually, everything is this room looks expensive. The wine red carpet, the crystal chandelier hanging from the roof, the big closet with flowers cut into the dark wood. Even the small table looks like it belongs in a castle, and I shouldn't even speak about the gigantic bed in which I'm laying 

As I continue to appreciate my surroundings the double doors to my right open, revealing a young girl. She is clad in simple yet elegant clothes and her light brown hair is tied into a bun on top of her head.

"Excuse me princess, but your father would like to speak with you. Are you feeling better?" The girl asks and I can't do anything but stare at her.

What is she talking about? Princess? I look around the room, excepting someone to step forward and tell me it's a joke. Maybe I'm still alive and my parents are trying to pull a prank on me because of my actions.

"Haha, very funny. You can come out now mom, I know I messed up, you don't have to shove it in my face." I say as I sit up, flinging the warm blanket to the side. But when I catch sight of my legs I stop. Instead of my usually lightly tanned skin-colour, my legs are a milky white.

Quickly I stand up, looking at my arms. I didn't notice before because I was busy appreciating the room, but now I see that they too, are different. It can't be that I've been in a coma and become pale. I stand up, walking a few steps and then stop. This body not only looks different, it feels different.

"Princess, what are you saying?" The girl asks, clearly confused.

"This is not my body." I whisper.

"Excuse me princess, what did you say?" She has started fidgeting with her clothes and I can see that she is alarmed by my strange behaviour.

"Where exactly am I?" I ask, louder. 

"You are home, in Iastar, are you still unwell? I'm sure your father will understand if you choose to rest. He knows how that your health has been bad these past days." I nod in answer and turn back to the bed, sitting down. I need to think.

"Then, I will inform the king about your wishes. Please call on us if you need anything princess." The girl says before bowing and walking out of the room, closing the door behind her.

As soon as I'm alone, I jump up from the bed and walk up to a set of drawers placed against the white- and gold-painted wall. I open the first one, hoping to find a mirror but the only thing occupying the small space is a book. My gaze lingers on it for awhile, poking my interest and curiosity, but I decide that it will have to wait. I have more pressing issues, like finding a mirror. The next drawer contains brushes, tiaras and different types of jewelry. I open the third and last drawer. There, under a white piece of clothe lays a small, golden-framed mirror with a delicate handle.

I pick the thing up, not wasting any time as I look at my face. My suspicion is confirmed when I see the small nose, pink lips and long, thick, black hair. But I'm captivated by my eyes. They are framed by dark, thick lashes and while the right one is a soft gray, the left one is purple.

"She is beautiful." I say as I gently touch the face in the mirror. "but what am I doing in her body?"

The question lingers in my mind as I start pacing in the room. From what the young girl said before, this person is a princess and the past few days she has been ill. Did she die? But how did I end up here? Ahh, there are so many questions!

If anyone figures out that I'm not the princess, what will they do? I think it's better not to find out. For now, I will just pretend that I am suffering from memory loss, because of the illness. I can figure it out. This might be another chance for me to live a better life.

Looking down at the nightgown I'm wearing I scowl. Who wears an old fashioned piece of clothe like this? It looks to be from the 17th century. Wait, if I remember correctly, the girl said I'm in Iastar. There is no such country that I'm aware of. Does this mean I'm something else, like in a different dimension? The possibility makes my head spin and I quickly sit down on the bed. I don't even know my own name, how am I supposed to act? Maybe it's just like being in another country. This place can't be that much different, can it? I guess there is only one way to find out. But before I leave this room I must try to find out more about the princess I'm supposed to be.

My eyes turn to the drawer where I saw the book. It looked like a dairy of some sort. maybe it will give me some clues.

Standing once again, I take the few steps to the furniture, opening it and grabbing the book before returning to the bed.

It's a bit worn out with a plain, brown cover. Opening the first page reveals neat writing and even though I shouldn't be surprised, I notice that the words are foreign to me. But what surprises is that I understand them. I can read the strange language.

"This goes beyond my comparison." I mutter, taking a moment to process the discovery.

When I feel like I have come to terms with this newfound ability, I start reading.

Day 1
I have just spoken to my father. He was wondering about all the trips I've made to town lately. I know he would not be happy if I told him the truth, so instead I said that I was looking for a gift to my mother. He accepted the lie, but I could tell he is still suspicious.
I know that I should have never contacted that man, but now that he is aware of my problem, I can't back down. If only I hadn't used that spell.

I stop reading. Spell? As in magic? No, that can't be right. But before I can continue reading and find out, there is a knock on the door.

I close the book and shove it under my pillow. I then lie down and throw the blanket over me.

"Yes?" I call out.

"Naomi, it's me your father, may I come in?" A dark male voice sounds from the other side of the wooden doors.

I feel panic settle in my stomach and I take a few deep breaths. Just try to act normal, I think to myself. Whatever normal is.

"Yes, it's okay, you can come in." I say and the door opens.

When Naomi gets killed by accident, she is shocked to realise that she is not dead. But when she does not recognize her own body or the people in her surroundings, she understands that something is not right.

Instead of being in her own country, Naomi finds herself in a world of magic, stuck in the body of a princess. While trying to figure out how to survive in this new reality, she also has to find out how the real princess died. Then there is the problem of how she is supposed to be one of the best magicians in the kingdom. And to top it all off, there is a prince who everyone seems to think she is madly in love with.

1 month later
reaching forward, a dark mirror apeared within my grasp, and than i flicked it out of my hand...  it began to spin in the air... and than began to circle around in front of me....
[ Mirror of Desire, Reflect my will... ]
i spoke ever so slowly....
and immeadiatly after the last word was finished.... a mirror reflected all the continents under my reign.... and soon after a portal for each ruler appeared,
and they began to step through it... the leader of the ebon blade and Northrend, one of my first and most powerful creations, stepped through the portal, slowly... and his cold blue eyes... wielding shadowmourne in his hand....
souls swirled around him and his blade... and he was followed by two ebon blade knights.....
he was the leader of the northern borders of my realm.
"My god..." his voice cold and frosty.... but filled with a sense of vague inner warmth... warmth for his creator perhaps? his god? his belief?
"please sit, arthas." a throne like the one in icecrown, formed at my will... it was completely covered in snow, and frost, along along with skulls... the bones of a dragon...
"by your will..." he got up from his kneeling position, and sat down upon the made throne by his god... melting his icy heart... for but a moment....
the two knights stood at his side...
holding their rune blades in a ceremonial position...
slowly another entity stepped through the portal... it was a dragonid... with black scales across his forelegs and forearms.... he wore a simple black kimono, across his body.... his white skin, was a creamy white..... while his eyes were red.... his hair red hair went down his back tied up in a pony tail.... with two large horns extending out from his temples, completely black in colour like ram horns....
this was Hains....equal in power to Arthas.
"Hains...."
he kneeled down on knee... and arched his back, with his fist to the ground... 
"my god."

than again with my will... a black obisidian throne was created on one side, opisite arthas...
soon 6 figures began to appear through one of the portals...  clad in dark gothic gowns, or tuxedos.... 
"council."
"my god." x6
than small, thrones appeared....
and finally Julius appeared with Five pairs of black wings upon his back.... he wore a drapped roman gown across his body.... he was perfect in appearance, with long straight hair.... and baangs framed his face, his eyes were compeletely black, like endless pools.... 
"julius...."
he slowly flapped his wings, creating a massive gust in the throne room, tinged with a dark aura, the wind turned a mild black....
no one was phased in the room, everyone had their kinks, even if they were created by a god....
he kneeled down placing his hand where  his heart is... and kneeled down before me.... 
i created a throne for him, as well, witch i gestured for him to go and sit, and he did so, without hesistration....
"how are my orders being handled?"
it was arthas who answered first... 
"Northrend, has been handled... stray demons that were leaderless have been brought under me.... shown... the power of their king. and their god!"

Following a chuuni otaku with a large disregard of human life, who gets reincarnated with 5 wishe



John Harris woke in the dark bedroom. 

His wife, apparently also awake, sat still and upright next to him. Though the bed was warm, he could feel a slightly warmer body heat emanating from Megan through her red silk negligee. 

“Megan? Are you all right, Hon?” he asked. She hadn’t woken in the middle of the night, since the breakthrough. Or if she had, John slept through it. 

Megan made a strange, hoarse noise, like clearing her throat. 

“Go back to sleep,” Megan said. 

John’s eyelids, suddenly incredibly heavy, fluttered as his body hastened to obey the psychic command which the woman next to him wasn’t even aware she’d given. 

“You sound… like… you’re getting… a cold,” he murmured as sleep claimed him. Yet even as he drifted away, impelled by an irresistible force, he realized something was wrong. 

Megan was never ill. 

Carefully, slowly, Megan lifted the covers and stepped out of the bed. She padded noiselessly through the open door into the night light-lit bathroom. Closing the door, she turned on the light and inspected herself in the wall-length mirror above the long counter and its two white porcelain sinks. 

She caught her breath just a bit at her appearance as she raised a slim, semi-long-nailed hand to the thick and glossy but short, sleep-rumpled black hair. It framed well her patrician face, the big brown eyes under arched brows, the straight nose, full lips, and strong, rounded chin. 

She saw the hairbrush in its holder by the counter, and reached for it, but then hesitated and withdrew her hand. The brush wobbled in the holder for just a second. Then it rose into the air and drifted into Megan’s waiting hand. 

 
 

Her eyes on her mirror reflection, the red silk-clad woman brushed her hair, slowly. She released the brush. It continued its work without her guiding hand; short slow strokes restoring some order to the black, tousled hair. 

She looked upward to where she knew a tiny web-camera recorded the scene. 

“Edward,” she breathed. “Do you see? We have done it!” 

She nodded in the direction of the brush-holder on the counter. Obediently, the brush left off its stroking, flew back to the holder and settled itself in. 

“No need to be sloppy with your things,” she said to someone who appeared not present. 

She seemed to listen for a moment, then she laughed softly. 

“But I will do as I please with him,” she said. 

She looked again at her reflection, then down at her own red silk-clad body, as if to confirm what she saw in the mirror. The negligee fit her loosely, v-necked, with three-quarter sleeves and dropping midway down her bare thighs. 

She noted Megan’s pink toenails with amusement. 

Melnikova, in total control of the body and abilities of Megan Harris, stepped out of the bathroom. A helpless prisoner in a remote corner of her own mind, yet one who could clearly see, hear and feel, Megan screamed, wept and fought. Silently. Uselessly. Helplessly. 

Please don’t hurt my husband, she begged. 

“Husband,” said Melnikova in Megan’s voice. “Awake!”

When two small-town women find themselves with nearly unlimited powers of mind and body, their lives get complicated. Things turn nasty as a shadowy organization attempts to use Megan and Trish for their own evil ends, and destroy them, their town and the USA in the process.



Dear Diary, 

I have finally made it. In the end, as I always imagined it would be, night after night, for ten long years, I have escaped. I escaped from that horrible and abysmal void inside the mirror. 

I have, unfortunately, the knowledge that my actions were not the most appropriate. I, Elena Miller, from the depths of my soul, regret having done what I did, but if I did not escape from that prison, my diary, no one would ever free me. And I would never see Mom again. 

I also feel sorry for Matthew. He was only six years old when all this happened. Just as his life completely lost its meaning, so did his existence within the real world. Inside the world where my mother is. Matthew had a bright future ahead of him and he surely must be wondering right now where he is, however, I can no longer provide him any answer. 

I would like to do it, being honest with myself. I want so much that my chest hurts. I want to hold him and explain what has suddenly happened in his life. Take him in my arms and let him know that it is only a stage that he must go through if he does not want to be another slave within that blackish void. Despite that, I know that they will help with any questions Matthew may have. I know my monsters will make him feel at home, just like they did with me. 

Call me selfish if you like, my diary, but I couldn't do it differently. If Matthew hadn't been chosen, another child would have taken his place and the story would repeat itself, without stopping. Unstoppable, just like time. That infant would have to do things that children do not do, things that I did and they will be part of the many mistakes I have made in my life. It will be permanently marked on my body for the rest of my days. 

However, I still remember why, in effect, I kidnapped a child and threw him into an abyss that he did not know. All the actions that I have committed so far have been by a single person, by that woman who gave me life and gave her unconditional love until I was dragged into the same mirror that started everything. My mother symbolized the daily motivation that I had to cling to as if my soul was leaving me in it so that in the end, I could free myself from the imposed chains and reconnect with the only human being that I truly love — and adore. 

Mom could never be able to forget me, stop loving me, or even start another family. I know that mom is somewhere in the world, waiting for my arrival and, luckily for her, that day will soon come true. 

Being out of the white-framed mirror again, everything is perceived as something new and strange to my eyes. Ten years does make a difference in the perspective I had on the world when I was just an eight-year-old girl. However, it continues to impress me, being entirely interesting. There is too much to discover that time flies so fast and I want to see it all that it is not enough for me at all. 

The first destination that I have in mind to visit is a few blocks from the park where I have appeared, sitting and enraptured by everything that surrounds me. So I get up from my place and keep walking, calmly. After a few minutes, I can discover that the site I am going to is closer than I thought. 

When I finally find myself in front of the completely polished and gleaming glass door, I put my hands on the railing and push, being welcomed by several pairs of eyes that look at me with great curiosity. 

—Elena 

[...] 

—Good morning, miss. —The officer observed by Elena greeted. —How can I help you? 

—Good morning. —The girl replied. —I need to know where Katherine Miller is currently living. 

[...] 

Fortunately, the police officer whom she inquired for valuable information did not ask the reasons that led the girl to ask for her mother's address. 

The man fell effortlessly. He had been totally deceived, with no cheek at all, and the female made him believe in every word of her tearful story. She was playing, in those moments, the role of a kidnapped woman, but who managed to get out of the place where they had her locked up, which did not sound like a lie completely but, understand dear diary, no one would believe the truth that lived in the corners of her mind, because no one has ever had the experience that she has. 

Now, she walks along the sidewalk after being guided by the words of some people who knew exactly where the street Elena was looking for was. Mom had moved out of her previous home in two years of her disappearance. However, although this city monopolized great territory, the young woman does not get lost. As she continues to move forward, she memorizes the names of the avenues and streets, she knows perfectly well that this will become her life for a long, long time. 

In the distance is the last corner she must turn to reach the neighborhood where her mother settled almost a decade ago. Elena may feel a slight tingling in her stomach, she is anxious and nervous at the same time, but there is a greater feeling than those two and it is about happiness. Ten years have passed since she left her mother. She missed her so much since her arrival at the white-framed mirror in Matthew's —current— bathroom. 

The tears begin to flow from her eyes at the moment in which she remains prostrate in front of the wooden door, however, she knows that their origin is not sad or melancholy, but rather they are from the happiness of knowing that she is one step away from experiencing true love again. 

She just one step away. Just one action. Just a knock on the doorbell. Just a breath and too many memories. 

[...] 

Ding dong. A fifty-year-old woman was preparing lunch when she heard someone knock on her door suddenly. She frowned at what happened a few seconds ago. She wasn't expecting anyone, really. She lived inside the four walls alone. In fact, that was what her house facade exclaimed every time she returned from the market or work. Loneliness at its best. 

She had no friends and no couple. Let's not even start talking about her family. She never considered herself so close to other relatives for a long time. She had never considered herself close to someone. Well, she only considered herself close to one person, and yet that she disappeared without a trace. So since that fateful day, she is alone. Her only company is the shadow under her feet. It was very regrettable. 

The woman finished cutting the vegetables and left the kitchen. Her steps were calm and slow, but the person standing outside on the side of the street didn't care. 

The nearly elderly woman unlocked the door and opened it. The squeak of wood, expressing that it was just as old as the owner of the house, was caught unobstructed by her ears, but she did not care when she saw a young girl outside her home. 

—How can I help you, miss? —The woman asked, examining the girl's face, thinking that she was somehow familiar to her, but she couldn't connect how or where she had seen her before. 

Elena smiled and wiped her tear-soaked cheeks. Then she cleared her throat and said: 

—Hi, Mom. I'm back. 

And she hung on the neck of her mother, and she was not separated for the world. The woman who was being held by her daughter began to cry. Was it a reality that moment or was her brain playing with her again? She didn't know exactly, but she didn't care. Only the show of affection returned and she sighed. That was what she always waited for. 

—Elena? —She asked. —Is it you? 

They parted and the youngest watched her carefully, seeing through her crying. 

—Yes, Mom. I'm your daughter. I'm Elena. 

[...] 

Calling to... 

—Do you have the girl? —Asked the voice on the other line. 

—I- I don't know if this is the right thing to do, I- 

—We have a deal, Katherine. Tell me if you have her or not. 

—... 

—... 

—Yes, she is here. She has returned. —Said Katherine Miller, Elena's mother. 

—Excellent, I will go tomorrow and we will seal the contract. 

—But- I really love her, you can't take her away from me. I am her mother! 

—You are not and will never be her mother. You should have thought better of it, Katherine. You should have thought better of it eighteen years ago. 

The call has been finished.

Since the unexpected death of her daughter, Dr. Choi has been involved in continuing her human cloning project, but with one goal in mind: to bring her "daughter" back. The point at the time is that Choi's research resulted in three different types of DNA, but they were quite close to her daughter's initial DNA. The doctor knows that she is already a bit old to conceive another child, so she turns to three women to continue with the plan and obtain what was taken from her a few years ago. Choi's pain started three different stories. Three girls who would be born after nine months, but also a lot of suffering and anguish due to a trauma that she could never overcome.

Sebastian glared at his light-brown eyes reflected by the broken wooden-framed mirror on the wall in the bathroom; both of his hands harshly gripped the sink, with his breathing becoming deep and jagged, sending droplets of tears from his eyes into the bloodied sink.

"You fucking coward-" he exclaims with a disgruntled expression, sending another bloodied and painful punch into the mirror...

"Hahahaha" a loud-vain laughter arose from behind him

"Shut up!" he shouts, releasing his bloodied hand from the shattered mirror, "you will die a coward just like your entire family" the voice taunted

 "I'm already dead," he says with a pained laugh while walking to a figure who's tied from the hands to the feet on an enchanted wooden chair, "you took away everything that I cherished and now I will do the same to you"

"Haha!... And what will that be?" the monstrous figure scoffed, thinking that he didn't have anything that he cherished, needed, or cared about, but his face facial expression quickly changed when Sabastian gave him an answer

Sebastian lifts his hand, causing his bag to fly into it, where he takes out a white glowing ball..." your soul," he answers with a dastardly grin...

"Where did you get that?" the figure asks with a terrified expression; wobbling and trying to force his trapped-wounded body from the chair

"It was just something that I acquired" he replied, walking towards the tied-up figure with his dastardly grin

The room was scattered with papers providing information about his greatest and most important goal: how to kill a demon in the cruelest and most painful way.

The demon sat captive in the chair; after what he did, he became Sebastian's greatest enemy and the reason all the light has vanished from his life, leaving nothing; an utter-lonely nothing.

The only thing that kept him from killing himself was the hope of one-day killing that abhor demon, and now that day has come; the day he waited for over a long and gruesome century has finally come.

"You will die a slow and painful death, leaving your soul trapped for all eternity,"  the monstrous figure twist and turn in an attempt to free his pained body; which received tremendous beating from the fight that he surprisingly and unexpectedly lost

while Sabastian unsheathed a long-curved knife from his back pocket which was engraved with dark purple puppy-eyes

"Wait-" the monster yelped, as the knife slashed down into his dried-crusty hand, causing gushes of black-staled blood to fall against the decayed floor...

"Argh"

"FUCK YOU!!!!"
***
"Sab, wake up!" his boyfriend whispered urgently into his ears, along with a minor shake, "uh, why are you awake so early?" he asks, opening his eyes slightly

"Quiet...there's someone in the house" his boyfriend tries to alert him, "it's probably your mind playing tricks again" he reaches up and kisses his boyfriend's forehead, "get some rest"

"Please...just check for me" his boyfriend pleaded with those dark purple puppy-eyes that Sabastian has never been able to resist, "fine," he said followed by an eye roll

He opened the door and walked cautiously through it, "anyone here?!" he asked as he scans through the dark hall and down the stairs, where he finds no sign of forced entry or anything suspicious 

"There's no o-"

"SA-"

"Henry?!" his heart pounded with worry as he raced up the stairs, through the long-dark-hollow hall, and into the bedroom...
***
'Thump' another punch crashes against the monstrous face, tipping the chair slightly

"You should've seen his face when I slitted his throat," the figure says with a wide smile followed by a chuckle

"Shut up!" he says sending another punch into the red-inflamed face

"Argh...too bad you weren't there to see it-" the knife slashes through its stomach, "uh, but luckily you were there to see your parents screams, haha" he continues

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!!" he shouts, kicking the chair over, causing the figures skull to pound against the hard-decayed floor, "uh-"

"Vlan!" Sabastian cast and a light barrier surround the wounded-evil figure, "what's your last words?" he asks as he bends down, placing the knife on the figure's neck

"Kill me! You're gonna die anywa-" before it could finish Sebastian slits its throat...

"You should see your face," he says with a pained laugh, as the black-staled blood gushes out the figure's neck, causing it to gasp for air

"You...think that...this...will kill me?" the figure asks as the wounds start to rapidly heal, "I know it won't but it did cost you pain-" he says as he stands and walks over to a table filled with papers...

"This is a 'guide' you could say; on how to kill you... permanently" he informs as he holds the white-ethereal but destructively-dangerous glowing ball in his right hand and the guide in his left

"You don't know what you're doing!" the figure warns, but Sabastian ignores it and flicks his hands toward the chair, causing all the pieces of it to fly in different directions, along with the enchanted rope

"I'm certain I do," he says as he crouches down on the figure's stomach with his knees pressing against its arms, "and I'm certain that you won't be able to hurt anyone else" his hand turns light orange as he reaches into the figure's chest and rips out its corrupted heart, replacing it with the white-ethereal glowing ball...

"No!" 

"Vaka dril-" he starts reciting the incantation while the figures body crumbles apart like crackers...





What's the outcome when the line between moral and immoral becomes blurred?
*
Three hundred-twenty Years ago, a prophecy was forged from the blood of prince Atlas, the same prince who died at the hands of Atlin-his sister.

The prophecy foretold of two reincarnations with unknown origins, two babies birthed from an empty void, an abomination to this world, and a force capable of destroying everything in their path.
*

Jordan, the reincarnation of Prince Atlas, now resides in a life of endless expectations, until he finally breaks away to the unknown lands of humanity. Only to slowly realize, that this seemingly joyful land isn't what he imagined it to be. 

And that love comes from the unexpected bloody fangs of an ethereal man...

***

This will be in first and third-person point of view...

This book is BL - Boys love/ Gay love

This book has graphic contents-like murder, sex, strong language, disgusting monsters, and more as the story progresses.

If you like please add to your library to be the first to know when I release new chapters.

THANK YOU❤️❤️❤️

The book cover does not belong to me and credits to the amazing creator/owner.

Will be updated every week☺️

"Young miss! You're finally home!" An excited voice startled her out of her reverie, "Are you alright?" Looking at the middle aged woman in a maid's uniform, she remembered her name as Claire. If she remembers correctly, Maëlys would definitely be back home before two in the morning.

"Good morning Claire. Sorry if I worried you, I got carried away last night." While speaking to Claire, she was fixing her hair in a way that hid her neck. "I'm gonna go upstairs and take a shower, please prepare something for me to eat. I would say breakfast but it's lunch time. And prepare lots of water please. As you can hear my throat is dry." 

"Yes Young Miss. Right away." with a bow, Claire waited until I walk pass her before she went to follow my instructions. Reaching to the door to the room I remember as mine, I open it and was still surprised at it's beauty even though I had a clear idea of what was in there. 

Big glass windows with a sofa beneath it. A bookcase to it's right and a mini fridge to it's left. Thick carpeted wooden floors. A crystal chandelier in the center of the roof. A California king bed at the center back wall with a bedside table and a lamp on each side. A television before it and two doors on either side of it. One being the bathroom and one being the closet. 

Taking a moment to appreciate to dark furniture against the lavender walls, I made my way to the door on the right side of the television which is the bathroom and went inside. The bathroom was a haven all by itself. With so much space and and its black and white tiles, it was a sight to behold. There were two sinks in the counter with a stretch of mirror before them which I wonder what for since Maëlys lives alone. There was a bath and shower adjacent to each other and the toilet was opposite to both. A door was on the left wall that was partially opened and I knew it was connected to the closet

Taking off my clothes, I made my way to the shower and set the temperature to what I was comfortable with. I washed my hair and scoured myself and brushed my teeth afterwards with a new toothbrush. It felt weird brushing my teeth with the same toothbrush as the previous owner of this body even though I know that we're the same person. Coming out of the shower smelling like lavender and roses, I looked at the bath with longing, fighting myself against going in because my tummy was having hunger spasms. 

Heading in the closet through the bathroom, I turned on the light and took in the expanse of choices I have to choose from. From flip flops to stilettos. Tube tops, crop tops, spaghetti straps, long sleeves, quarter sleeves, dresses, skirts, gowns, jackets, rompers, jeans, shorts. This woman had it all. They were all color coded and the type of clothing/shoes were all in the same category too. Nothing was out of place.

"Well at least she has taste. I guess I should start saying 'I' now since this is now me and no one else." Mumbling to herself, Maëlys made her way to the underwear drawer from her memory and found nothing but lace and a tiny few cotton. All of them screaming sensuality. She could only begrudgingly take out one of the few cotton ones that doesn't look all that and put it on. She made her way to the shorts section and take out a green cotton pair with a long sleeved turtleneck white crop top that read 'SO WHAT?' diagonally. 

Looking at herself in the mirror she had to admit the current her looked more beautiful than the previous her. With striking green eyes framed with thick curled lashes and a perfectly groomed eyebrows in a soft round face with a slim nose and full pink lips, her curly reddish brown hair framed her face and dropped down to bra strap length. Her hair was frizzy at the moment due to its partially dry state. She estimated her height to be around 5'7" and her stature could be called slim but her breasts could full out her 36C cup to the max. Her adequate curves made way to a perky round butt that filled out her shorts. The things she loves the most are her long legs and her caramel skin color that glowed.

Making her way downstairs, she found her way to the dining room only to find it with an unexpected guest.

Seated on one of the chairs around the dark dining table, a woman in an elegant red halter top dress against her pale skin gracefully sipping mimosa with her dark red hair styled in an elegant bun. Diamond teardrop earrings adorned her ears and her piercing green eyes similar to her own stared at Maëlys as she walked in the room. A small smile graced her lips as she stood up in her black heels and hugged Maëlys with a kiss on the cheek.

"*Bonjour, ma belle fille" a soothing voice came out of the beautiful women's mouth and a full smile graced her lips.

"*Bonjour maman, comment vas-tu? Où est Papa?" Was Maëlys' reply as she returned the hug with a hint of surprise on her face. She knew she had a french heritage but didn't know she could speak and understand it so well.

"*Je vais bien merci et toi? Marcel est au travail comme d'habitude. Vous savez comment ça marche."

"*Ah d'accord. Ca va bien merci." Taking a seat beside her mom, she dug in the food that was placed before her the moment she sat and asked. "So mom, why are you here?" Eating her scrambled eggs, bacon and pancakes, she savoured the taste while waiting for what her mom was about to speak. 

"My beautiful girl. Please don't be upset. You're twenty three years old this year. Your father and I believe it is time for you to settle down. We've decided to arrange a marriage for you..."

"I have unfinished business mother. Plus I don't want an arranged marriage. I will find whomever I want to marry myself." Cutting off her mother midway, she placed her fork down as she sipped some water from her glass. 

"But dear..."

"Pas de mère!" Shock registered on her mother's face at her tone of voice. "Please leave."

Her mom could only look at her with obvious sadness in her eyes. "Okay, my dear." Kissing Maëlys' cheek and patting her hair with her cerulean blue nails she said "Call me when you're ready."

With that she walked out the room and Maëlys watched her as she left. With a sigh Maëlys went back to her meal and decided not to think about what her mom came to her to say.
-----

*Good morning my beautiful daughter. 

*Good morning mother, how are you? where's dad?

*I'm fine thank you, and you? Marcel is at work as usual. You know how it works.

*Oh, ok. I'm fine thank you.

"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy wake up!"

Little Karen Walker screamed at the strawberry blonde woman lying on the hospital bed. Her own strawberry blonde hair in disarray and tears streaming down her cheeks. She was being held in the arms of the man she calls Dad. His face in a similar condition to hers. 

"Mommy please wake up..." Karen cried her heart out. She fought herself free of her father's hold and rushed to her mother's side. Hugging her tightly with her one good hand. "Mommy just wake up please. I swear I'll be a good girl. I will listen to everything you say. I won't climb the trees no more. I wont run on the stairs. I will eat all my vegetables. I promise just please wake up for me." Karen stuttered with her words as she tried to hold the tears back but sobs escaped from her mouth. Her words were heartbreaking to hear for those who heard it. 

***

Karen Walker is an innocent and lovely girl filled with dreams and aspirations only to find out life has played a game with her feelings.

From losing her parents to losing her life, Karen will forever be unable to achieve her goals in this lifetime. All due to someone else's plot.

But the universe pitied her, and gave her a second chance at life. 

Watch as she takes revenge on those that did her wrong and holds them accountable for it.

But will she be able to? Or will she die again before she can get her revenge? Is her luck that bad?

[God has spoken.]
What was this? What was happening?
[Your world will be tested.]
Where was this voice coming from? God? What does it mean by God?
[Survive. Live. Thrive. So deems your God.]
Silence. And then screams.

---------------------------------------------------------------
He woke up to darkness.
Survive. Live. Thrive. The words kept pounding in his head, inducing echoes of pain that would likely lead to a headache later on. 
He groaned, annoyed at his disrupted sleep. The sheets were soft beneath him and the covers a warmth that pleasantly protected him from the room's chill. 
He rose up on the bed, yawning lazily as he tried to remember where he was. It was too dark to see anything beyond the dim movements of his own body, so he pushed the covers, feet reaching for the floor. The moment he felt cold marble, lights shone around the room, blinding him. Eyes blinking, he tried to make his surroundings in-between white spots. 
A large bed with heavy green pillows and covers. A windowless room with marble flooring and beige walls. A comfortable sofa, two cozy couches and a small table in their midst. It was a very nice room. Wooden draws with odd, elegant engravings. Fur carpets in bright greens and dark blues. Silver frame for the mirror. Dark gold for the paintings. 
A really, really nice room. He didn't recognize any of it.
Where was he? How did he come here? Why wasn't he back in… back in--
Back in where? Where was he before this? 
He came up with a blank. He couldn't remember. What was he doing yesterday? What was outside this room? What did other people look like? 
Blank. Blank. Blank.
What did he look like?
In a panic, he ran toward the tall silver-framed mirror. A young man in his late teens or early twenties greeted him. A man with black skin and long white hair. Someone built lean and athletic, with handsome features. Someone in a well-worn grey nightgown and loose pants. 
He touched his face. Who was this?
"I…�� he started and abruptly stopped. Was that what he sounded like?
He couldn't remember. Blank. Blank. Blank.
He stepped back from the mirror, hating the stranger in its reflection.
There had to be something he could remember. There had to be.
His family? His name? His memories? Anything at all?
He fell to the carpeted floor, defeated.
Blank. Blank. Blank. No memories. No family. No name. 
There was nothing. Just empty space where his memories should have been.
He rubbed his temples. The headache returned with a vengeance.
A semi-transparent screen popped up in front of him. 
Surprised, he stared at the illusory rectangle with writing on it.
Weird squiggles and lines on a neat font. He didn't recognize the symbols. He couldn't read the writing. 
He laughed, self-deprecating. He received a magical alarm, and he couldn't even read it! Could he read at all?
A sudden thought came to mind. He could speak! He had spoken before.
"I can speak," he slowly annunciated. The motions familiar on his tongue. The sounds foreign to his ears. What language was that? The only reason he even knew what he had said was because he knew what he was about to say.
"I can speak," he repeated and the misery returned tenfold. He had no idea what syllables he had pronounced, what accent he had spoken, or even in how many words the form of his intentioned meaning was. He had said sounds. They were meant to make sense. He didn't know how. 
You weren't supposed to have this level of disconnection between speaking and thought. He knew that. How did he know that?
How did he know anything?
He sat there for a long time trying to understand what was happening to him. No answers came. His headache grew and screens appeared twice more before he decided to explore the outside.
He opened the heavy, wooden doors, finding them surprisingly light. What greeted him was a large hall. The space alone easily eclipsed his room, with granite walls and stone floors. Tall, majestic columns held an even more majestic ceiling far above him.
The place was strangely empty; the only furniture being a small throne-like chair, chiseled from grey stone. The bedroom was placed closer to the throne and as he closed the door behind him, he noticed that it faded in the background as if part of the walls.
A hidden door?
He sat on the chair, a bit weirded out as it faced opposite the tall metallic gates at the other end. If the spacious hall was majestic, then the gates were plain intimidating. They were easily the most luxurious thing in the room, with bejeweled ornaments and elegant incisions of silver and white gold.
A small shiver of cold as something hard and metallic formed in his hand. A simple knife with a dark wooden handle had appeared in his hands. He stared at it. So, objects could appear out of thin air too?
Noises came beyond the hall. He strained his ears to hear them. The sound of heavy steps and intelligible voices rested just beyond the gates.
He stared at the knife that had appeared with such a coincidental timing.
Multiple screens popped up in front of him. He ignored them in favor of covering his ears as the sound of screeching metal against stone made way across the hall. The gates were slowly being pushed open to reveal three humanoid figures dressed in leather and metal. 
A new screen popped up before him. With no time to think about why, his breath shattered as he recognized one of the words.
[... Survive ...]

The world used to be normal. The poor worked, tired, and slept. The rich laughed, drank, and slept. Whether you were a farmer, a warrior, or a mage, you knew your place in the world. You knew how to survive day by day as nations waged war and droughts destroyed crops. You kept your head down and prayed. Or you stood up and had your head cut down.
Until one day, God spoke.

[Your world will be tested.]

Towers rose from the depths of the earth, tall enough to pierce the skies.
100 floors. A single trial.
Power, fame, glory. All at your fingertips.
Monsters raged against villages. Storms descended upon cities.
The world changed. Life for many worsened.
But you had a chance. 100 floors. A single trial.
A chance to change everything.
-----
On long-term hiatus. This was just an idea that wouldn't leave alone, and I can see myself continuing it sometime in the far future but not right now, dear readers.

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