Short Story: The Mirror of Lost Fates.
Welcome to The Mossbound Journal, where I share short stories from the darker corners of fantasy, folklore, and fate. The Mirror of Lost Fates is a gothic-fantasy piece that explores the blurred line between destiny and choice I wrote October 20th, 2024. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
The Mirror of Lost Fates.
By Lorelei Gill Moore
The blackened, ancient oak tree stood at the center of the clearing, its gnarled, twisted branches reaching toward a dark, starless sky. Livanna stood still before it, her heart pounding in her chest. This ancient tree is as wide as four grown oxen lined up. A myriad of old oak trees surround her, making a perfect circle, confining her in its center. The air smelled of damp earth and decay—almost as if life was a distant memory rather than the present. A faint, ethereal light flickered from deep within a large, jagged hollow in the middle of the tree. There it was again—the mirror.
Livanna gasped slightly, stunned. Why does this tree seem so familiar yet foreign all at once? Has she been here before? The mirror's surface rippled like water, reflecting not her face but a shadowy figure cloaked in a dark mist. It wore a black, twisted twig crown atop its head, which looked as if it was entwined into the figure's hair.
Livanna stepped forward, her hand outstretched, fingers trembling as they neared the smooth, cold surface. A voice whispered from the shadow figure’s mouth before she could touch it. It spoke in a language she didn’t understand, yet somehow knew what it was asking of her. The ground started to shift beneath her feet, the wind howled, and—
Livanna woke with a racing heart. Her bedroom was still dark except for the early morning light barely filtering through her green-colored curtains. Her heart raced as she pressed her hand to her chest, trying to calm her breath. It was the dream again. It had never changed: the blackened tree, the strange voice, and that mirror. It had haunted her for weeks, growing more vivid with every passing night. This time was different from the rest of the nights. She had almost touched it. Nearly connected with the surface. With the shadow.
Livanna pushed back her heavy brown covers and swung her legs over the side of her bed, feet brushing the cold wooden floor. The air in her room felt heavy like the dream hadn’t entirely dissipated, as if the voice was still electrifying the air around her. A cold, forceful breeze stirred the curtains, carrying a faint whisper that made her skin prickle.
“Livanna…”
She froze, her pulse thundering in her chest. For a moment, she thought she had imagined it. But there it was again—her name, carried on the wind, coming from the direction of the forest. That dark, foreboding place on the outskirts of town. People never spoke of and never dared to cross into it, for the forest was a place of loss and suffering.
Livanna stood and moved to the window, peeking through the curtain. The forest loomed on the horizon, a shadowy line against the dawn. She had never set foot in it, but something about it called to her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it held answers—to the dreams, to the whispers, to the strange sense of longing that had been growing inside her for as long as she could remember.
Livanna had always thought of her mother when she looked toward the forest. Her mother had warned her about it for as long as she could remember, her bright green eyes darkening with an unease Livanna never understood. Though her mother had been a woman full of laughter, her golden hair catching the sunlight, there had always been something hidden behind her smile when the forest came into view. It was as though she feared something beyond the trees, something that no one else could see.
Now, with her mother gone, Livanna understood that it wasn’t just fear—it was a warning. But what if her mother had been wrong? What if the forest wasn’t the danger but the key?
The villagers believed the forest was cursed and the shadows would swallow anyone who entered. They spoke of the trees like they were sentient, ready to pull lost souls into their depths. But Livanna had always wondered if there was more to their fear. The world had been changing—crops failing, rivers drying up. The elders whispered that the earth itself was dying, and they blamed the forest and its darkness. Yet something inside Livanna told her they were wrong. The forest wasn’t dying—it was trying to survive.
***
The day passed in a blur, the dream’s eerie calling clinging to Livanna’s mind like a chain. She tried to focus on her usual chore routine, but everything felt different. The whispers still echoed faintly in her ears and mind, and no matter how hard she tried to shake them, her thoughts kept drifting back to the blackened tree from her dreams—to the mirror.
It was nearing dusk when she found herself wandering the outskirts of the small village. The short, narrow paths twisted through the fields and meadows, leading toward the edge of the forest, even though no one dared to cross. Tales of those who had gone missing, swallowed by the shadows, kept even the bravest villagers at bay. But Livanna couldn’t stop herself. Something deep inside pulled her toward the dark line of trees.
As she approached the forest’s edge, the air grew colder, and the familiar whisper returned, clearer this time.
“Livanna…”
She stilled, her heart racing in her chest. The voice was unmistakable now—soft, beckoning, but not threatening. It sounded like it came from somewhere just beyond the treeline. Her mind was spinning as she looked into the depths of the forest.
Livanna swayed, dizziness overtaking her. Her hand brushed against the rough bark of a tree. Electricity ran through her fingers as if the forest itself recognized her touch. Livanna hesitated, her breath catching in her throat. Something was waiting for her in the woods. She knew it, just as she knew the blackened tree in her dreams was no figment of her imagination. She pushed forward into the forest more, uncontrolled by any logic.
The wind picked up, rustling the leaves overhead, and Livanna took a step back, torn between the urge to flee and the pull of whatever lay beyond the trees. She turned to leave, but her eyes fell upon something on the ground—a faint marking in the dirt, like a symbol drawn hastily with a stick. It was familiar, though she couldn’t place why. The shape—a crude circle with a crescent moon—sent a shiver down her spine.
She knelt to inspect it closer, her fingers tracing the lines. A strange warmth spread through her hand, a low hum vibrating beneath the soil. Her thoughts returned to the dream—the tree, the mirror, the voice. The dream had been a warning, yet had it also been an invitation?
Livanna stood abruptly, brushing the dirt from her hands. She couldn’t ignore the signs any longer. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t just in her head. She glanced once more toward the trees, the growing shadows seeming to stretch toward her, inviting her in.
Livanna had lost track of all time. A decision formed in her mind, one she hadn’t fully realized until this moment: she had to go into the forest. She had to know the truth. She had to know what her heart already knew, and no one could stop her from following the whispers.
As the light sky started changing to black, the moon was barely visible through the thick clouds as she journeyed further into the forest, the symbol she’d seen earlier etched into her mind.
The air was dense and heavy with scents of moss and damp earth. Each step she took seemed muffled, the silence around her absolute, save for the occasional creak of the trees swaying above. As Livanna ventured deeper, the path faded beneath her feet, swallowed by thick undergrowth. Still, she pressed on, her heart hammering in her chest.
The further she walked, the more familiar everything felt, like a warm embrace. It was as though her feet knew the way, leading her past twisted trunks and fallen branches with certainty. The whispers began again, soft and distant, urging her forward. Getting louder. And then she saw it.
In the clearing ahead stood the blackened oak, just as it had appeared in her dreams. Its twisted branches reached skyward like jagged claws, and the bark was charred and cracked as if it had been struck by lightning centuries ago and never healed. The only thing different from her dreams was on the surface of the tree, above the hollow, emanating a blue glowing light. There was a crude circle with a crescent moon carved into it. What does it mean?
Livanna approached slowly, her breath catching in her throat. The mirror. It was real. The smooth, silver surface rippled faintly as she stepped closer, just like water disturbed by a pebble. Her reflection appeared and then shifted, the image distorting until she saw not herself but another figure—a version of herself draped in dark robes, the crown of twisted branches upon her head, eyes gleaming with power.
Livanna gasped and stumbled back her heart racing. The whispers were loud now, circling her like a strangling vine. The figure in the mirror stared back at her, its green gaze piercing and cold. This was the truth, the destiny she had forgotten.
The figure’s hand reached towards her, a finger curling in a beckoning motion. It looked so perfect, with no flaw in sight. Livanna shook as she stood still, watching the figure. But something in her heart told her this wasn’t the enemy she feared—it was something far more significant.
Memories long buried began to surface. Images flashed through Livanna’s mind: her ancestors standing before the same tree, their hands reaching toward the mirror, their reflections showing figures cloaked in light, power radiating from within them. The truth settled deep in her bones—this shadow wasn’t evil. It was her guide. It was the key to saving a world she hadn’t even known was in peril.
Her mother’s warnings echoed in her mind. Except, they were not filled with fear. Livanna saw her mother’s unease for what it had been: not terror of the shadow but of the responsibility that would one day fall upon Livanna’s shoulders. The weight of destiny and the struggle it would bring.
The whispers softened, becoming transparent. The figure wasn’t trying to lure Livanna into darkness—it was showing her a path she needed to walk. This was her fate. The world was on the brink of something catastrophic, and Livanna was the savior it needed. She wasn’t just anyone; she was a fragment of an ancient line destined to protect life. The blackened tree symbolized power reborn from ashes, and the mirror, the figure, was a bridge to the true power she would need to wield.
The figure in the mirror extended its hand toward her again, but this time, Livanna understood the meaning behind the gesture. It wasn’t a threat—it was an invitation. Soft and familiar, the voice echoed in her mind: “You are the one who must save them all.”
Livanna trembled, but this time, it wasn’t from fear. The moment's weight settled on her shoulders, but she felt something else. She felt its strength, its courage. She was not being asked to embrace darkness; she was being called to protect the light.
Her hand hovered over the mirror’s watery surface. A flood of warmth surged as her fingers grazed its veneer, filling her with purpose. The shadow’s eyes gleamed, not with coldness but with a deep, ancient wisdom. She realized it had been waiting for her all along—for someone worthy enough to realize its potential.
Livanna exhaled, her breath mingling with the soft hum of the forest. “I accept,” she whispered, her voice steady. She stepped closer, letting the shadow envelop her, not in darkness, but in clarity. The world shimmered, and she felt herself pulled into the mirror, not as a prisoner but as its rightful heir.
At that moment, Livanna was no longer just a girl from a small village. She was the savior the world had been waiting for. And the forest—the blackened tree—was her ally, not her enemy. It needed her to save them all.
THE END
