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Mimirror · The Monster Catcher's Journal

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Captures Abound. I'm Stella Ferris, and this
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is the Monster Captures Journal podcast. Today's
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episode isn't about a glyph with claws, nor is
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it about one that takes to the sky. No, today's
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glyph is, wait, what was I looking for again?
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Strange. It's right on the tip of my tongue.
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I better consult Dr. Lang's glyphopedia. Let's
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see. Nope, that's Ourobeak. Not Reaperfish either.
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Glassweb? That can't be right. Cryptoglyphs aren't
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even meant to be cataloged. Ah, here we go. Mimimir.
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How? Where do I even start? To catch a Mimir,
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we had to head east deep into the Inado Desert.
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That place is no joke, you know? sandstorms sharp
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as knives and heat like you've angered the twin
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suns themselves. At the far edge of it lies the
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crystal cavern, a vast network of naturally formed
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mirrors and living glass. Local legend says that
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if you whisper your name too loud in the tunnel
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something might whisper it back backwards. While
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Luna packs snacks like grapes stuffed with Cloudberries
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and desert melon slices. Her glyph Mernot helped
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wrap them in coiling vines. Zena double -checked
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the traps and made sure our pyramid -shaped glyphids
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were synced and powered. Ignazura, glowing with
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sapphire light, curled protectively around her
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bag. I checked my own team. Orabit perched proudly
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on my shoulder. Always ready. Kefla, my glowing
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fish, glyph. was not part of the team anymore.
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He was out of the rotations. Entrenaut, Shadowclaw,
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and Chaos Serpent. Oh, and my final glyph. And
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Neferon Blaze. They were already loaded in their
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glyphids, all except for Orabique. He sat perched
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on my shoulder. We climbed into the hovercraft
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and launched into the air. My two best friends
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by my side and the world stretched out beneath
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us. We soared across the citrine sea, its golden
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waters glittering in the sunlight like liquid
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treasure. The waves hummed with music only Kefla
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could hear. We skimmed the edges of the cursed
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woods where vines reached upward like hands desperate
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for touch. And we flew high over Luan Academy,
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our old school, our only school, and our beloved
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school. I swear I caught Professor Orient's glaring
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eyes. watching up at us as we passed. Or maybe
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it was just a mirage. To be fair, we are pretty
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ambitious. Finally, we reached the sand -scattered
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entrance to the crystal caverns. I tapped Orabik
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gently. I brought you out here early. My friend,
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I know you won't let me down. Ch -ch -koo -oo!
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Ch -ch -koo -oo! Orabik chirped for his golden
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beak. flashing in the sunlight. We trudged into
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the desert, heat swirling like ghosts around
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us. That's when the ground rumbled beneath our
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feet. Without warning, a huge bug erupted from
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the sand, a speed roller, like a massive desert
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roly -poly, plated in obsidian shelves. It curled
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and launched oars as faster than I thought possible.
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Orabi Guzfera's voice, I covered my ears, as
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I said. The screech that followed shattered a
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dune crest, halting speed rolling mid its spin.
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Mirno, stampede, Luna command it. Ignisura, gem
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slash, Xena at it. In a fury of vines, gemstones,
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and echoing roars, speed roller collapsed, dazed,
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and defeated. But as we approached the crystal
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caverns, something else began gnawing at me.
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A feeling, something not quite right. We passed
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through the narrow entrance and immediately we
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were surrounded by walls of mirrored glass. A
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reflection shimmered. Dozens of Steliferuses
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and Lunas and Xenas and their glyphs staring
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back with a slight delay. The deeper we went,
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the more distorted our images became. Some of
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them blinked when we didn't. Finally, we found
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it. A perfect mirror standing alone on a pedestal
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of broken crystal. Xena stepped forward. Is that
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it? Luna nodded. It's not a glyph in the traditional
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sense. My mirror, it's alive. Not really, but
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has intent. It remembers. I stepped towards the
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mirror, just inside the five -foot radius. That's
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when everything changed. The world rippled. The
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air turned still, and I was pulled inward. Not
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physically, not entirely, but my mind, my senses.
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I was inside. It felt like a dream. Soft grass
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underfoot glowing stars in a violet sky, but
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everything had a mirrored tint. I looked down.
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My reflection stared back from the grass itself.
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Every blade shimmered like glass. The sky was
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upside down. Stars drifting beneath my feet.
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It wasn't just a dream. It was a memory. Emotion.
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Judgment. Then I saw them. A figure ahead. walking
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slowly across the pond that reflected the moonlight
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like liquid silver. They turned and my breath
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caught in my throat. It was me, a younger version
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of me, standing beside a familiar glyph, but
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something was wrong. The glyph was Orabik, and
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it wasn't. I thought that these glyphs were supposed
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to show you your first glyph, so why was I seeing
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Orabik? Come far, they said. Voice a perfect
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echo of mine, but you forgot the promise What
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promise I asked stepping closer that you'd never
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stop being curious That you'd never forget why
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you started this journey You made it to be close
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to them to connect But now you're chasing something
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else I'm still me I said Though I wasn't sure
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I believed it I still protect them I still care
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The dark orbic stepped forward, then prove it.
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Suddenly the mirrored world warped. I was back
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in the desert, but twist it. The citrine sea
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boiled black behind me, and the sky was shattered
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like a broken dish. The young army disappeared,
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replaced by a mirrored army of distorted versions
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of all my glyphs. Cintronaut with extra limbs
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and a fractured helmet. Chaos serpent gnawed
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it and gnashing, made of smoke and teeth. Kefla
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flickered like a dying light. And in the center,
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dark or a beak, they rushed me. I didn't fight
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back. I couldn't fight back. Instead, I took
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a breath and whispered, You're part of me. I'm
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not ashamed of you. The mirrored glyph froze.
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I'm not perfect, but I love every step that brought
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me here. Even the wrong ones. Even the parts
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I still don't understand. A pause. The world
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around me began to shift. The sky turned smooth.
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The sea calmed. The broken reflections melted
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into ripples. The dark aura big nodded, then
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vanished into a burst of golden light, and I
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fell. I gasped, stumbling backwards from the
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pedestal. Luna caught me. You okay, she asked,
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wide -eyed. Xena was already scanning me with
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her glyph radar. I'm fine, I said. I was tested.
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There was a ping from my belt. One of my glyphids
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glowed softly. The new one? The mirror. It didn't
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pulse like the others. It shimmered, smooth and
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flawless like glass, but with small cracks along
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its sides. Reminders of the world it showed me.
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It accepted me, I said softly. Then it gave me
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a long look, or maybe it just let you go. Later
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that night, I sat with Luna and Xena on the sanctuary
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porch. The moon's glowed low in the sky, and
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the wind carried the scent of fresh dune blossoms.
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Luna leaned on my shoulder, half asleep. Xena
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tinkered with one of the glyph radars. Mimir's
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glyphid rested on the table in front of us, quietly
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reflecting the stars. Some glyphs claw, some
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fly, some speak. But Mimir, Mimir remembers.
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It shows you not what you fear, but what you
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are. You're brave enough to look. And next time,
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we'll face a glyph with no face at all. Maybe.
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Or maybe they'll have some talons or maybe they'll
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have wings. But let me get into the story, the
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part of the story where we talk to Professor
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Orion about my catch. The next day I returned
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to school and I decided that I would tell Professor
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Orion about my catch because I always tell him
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about my catches. And... Most of the time he
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gets mad because he thinks that I'm catching
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the dangerous glyphs on purpose or something.
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Footsteps echoed down the curved marble halls
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of Luan Academy's east wing. I walked briskly,
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Mimir's glyphid secure in my satchel. The heavy
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oak door at the end is cracked open. Inside the
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air smells of ink, dust, and ozone. Papers rustle,
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a telescope points towards the veil of eternity.
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The day after we had caught Namir, I knew I had
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to speak with someone who might understand what
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happened inside the mirror world. Or maybe somebody
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who might actually lecture me, but... But someone
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who studied glyphs before they were even called
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glyphs. Professor Orion. I knocked once and entered.
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Professor Orion stands behind a desk strewn with
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scrolls and half -dismantled tech. You're back
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sooner than I expected. I figured the desert
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might eat you alive. It almost did, but we caught
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Mimir. Orion finally turns his expression. Is
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unreadable. Cold blue eyes flickered in the glyphid.
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In my hand. You touched it. More than that, I
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pulled it in. There was a trial. I saw a version
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of me I'd forgot about. That mirror is older
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than any in Dr. Leng's glyphopedia. It predates
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the catching age. Memearing isn't a creature.
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Memir is a relic, a remnant of the vell's original
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stitching woven with memory and regret. I've
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heard this before. So it's not just a test it
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remembers. Yes, and it chooses who to release.
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You're lucky. Some students have gone missing
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and they're drawn in by curiosity and never returned.
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Why didn't you tell us? You knew we were going
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there. I had my suspicions, but you never listen,
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Stella Ferris. You chase ghosts. You always have.
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You're just upset I proved it's more than myth.
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That the catchers of today can face things you
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studied from. Behind glass. You saw something
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of yourself in the mirror, didn't you? A pause.
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I nod. I saw what I might become if I lose sight
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of why I started. If I let fear or pride twist
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what matters. Then my mirror did its job. It
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doesn't trap. It teaches, harshly. But it only
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reveals what's already there. He stands and walks
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over. Placing a small object on the desk, a faded
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photo of a younger Orion standing near the crystal
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caverns. Another student at his side, long gone,
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shows me my brother. Told me I'd never be brave
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enough to forgive him. I never did. Do you still
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hear it? Every time I look in the mirror A long
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silence ensued before I said something. Thanks,
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Professor. Horia nods once. Keep the glyphid
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hidden. When you travel, there are factions who'd
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give everything to look inside their own past
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and tear the world apart in the process. Still,
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I turn to leave, but I stop at the door. You
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were wrong, by the way. I do listen. Not always
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do you. But I do listen. That's what makes your
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dangerous, Stella Farris, and need it. I finally
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head at home, because I had already talked to
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Professor Orian, and, well, he actually didn't
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yell at me this time, and I was kind of surprised
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with that. The wind hums low through the reed
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that surround my sanctuary. The three moons glinted
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off of the still water of the koi pond that I
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had just put in. Fireflies drifted lazily in
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the garden. I wrapped myself in a knit shawl
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while I sat alone on the porch, sipping sweet
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root tea from a cracked mug. A few days had passed
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since Mimir joined us, and the world had stayed
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quiet too quiet. Luna was out back with Mirno,
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dancing under the moonlight. Xena had fallen
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asleep at her desk again, a gemstone magnifier
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still tucked behind her ear. I thought the night
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would pass like any other until I heard the hum,
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a soft, whirling, mechanical buzz from beyond
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the treeline. I narrowed my eyes and stood up,
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setting the mug down gently, footsteps measured
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and careful crunch over the gravel path. As Sir
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Orion steps into the moonlight, wavering a travel
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quote and holding a small wrapped parcel. I didn't
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expect to see you here. I didn't expect to come
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yet. Here I am, Orion said. He looks around,
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taking in the carved wooden balcony, the overgrown
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garden, flowing faintly with bioluminescent glyph
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moss. You've built something extraordinary out
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here. I can see why they follow you. They don't
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follow me. We walk together." I replied. Orin
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gives a slight nod, stepping onto the porch from
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his pocket. He pulls a small tool and brushes
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his fingers over the glyphid, resting on the
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table. Mimir glows faintly, its polished surface
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flickered with impossible depths. I dreamt of
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it, you know. For three nights straight, not
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the glyph. The place. That mirror world. Did
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it say anything, I ask? No, but it watched like
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it knew I hadn't faced what I should've years
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ago. He sits beside me, looking older than before,
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weathered, like the desert had gotten into his
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bones. Why'd you come, I ask? Because I think
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Mimir is more than a relic, more than a glyph.
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It's evolving, it's watching, it wants something.
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And why give it to us, I ask? Because I trust
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you, despite everything. A beat? For a beat,
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I study Orion carefully. You're afraid of what's
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coming, aren't you? I ask. Orion doesn't speak
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for a moment, then he reaches into his cloak
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and unwraps the parcel and inside is a small
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shard of black glass humming with unstable energy.
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This was found in the crypt plane waste, where
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no glyph should survive. That's fragment of a
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second mirror. One not bound to memory, but to
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intention. A glyph that shows not who you are,
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but what you're capable of. The shard pulsed
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once in my direction, then dimmed again. I believe
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someone or something is trying to rebuild them,
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all of them, and not for reflection. For control,
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I ask. Exactly, Orion replied. Another long silence
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ensued. Only the distant call of the dusk bird
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stirs the air. Then we need to move if there's
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another mere glyph out there. We have to find
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it before they do. Agreed. I'll notify the others,
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but this time, Stelliferous, he turns to look
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me dead in the eye. You'll need more than heart
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to survive this one. You'll need to choose who
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you trust and who you leave behind. I stand slowly,
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the glyphid slowly pulsing with starlight because
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I had sat down, you know, just minutes ago to
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talk to Orion. We're not alone, Orion. We never
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have been. We both turn towards the distant mountains
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where storm clouds begin to gather and somewhere
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something mirrored stirs awake. Inside the sanctuary,
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the lights have went out, so I light a table
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lantern as Zena and Luna gather around the central
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planning table. A large parchment map of Nibiru
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is rolled out, weighed at the corners with stones
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etched in old glyphid script. Professor Orion
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stands nearby, his cloak now hung by the door,
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his expression grim. He didn't sleep that night.
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The second mirror shared Orion brought us pulsed
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faintly on the table, like a heartbeat that didn't
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belong to anyone or anything in the room. Whatever
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this new glyph was, it wasn't a twin. It was
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something older, wilder, more dangerous. The
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crypt plane wastes are expanding. This river
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here, gone dry in less than two weeks. The Academy's
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weather satellite reported warped wind patterns,
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like reflections of storms that don't exist,
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Zeno pointed out. It's cold, not icy, empty,
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like it's trying to forget itself. Luna pressed
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two fingers to the shard. That's because the
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glyph doesn't show who we are. It erases who
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we were. It's not memory -based like Mimir. It's
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a refraction, a prism, that twists intention
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into obsession. Then it's, er, Professor Orion
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said, then it's not just a glyph, it's a weapon.
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I said, Orion gives me a slow solemn nod. We'll
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need backup. I'll reach out to the drift hunters
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in Glassroot Gulch. They've been tracking strange
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signals near the Crystal Dunes. If this shard
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belongs to something larger, then they'll know.
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Do you think someone made it? Luna quietly asked.
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Maybe, or maybe it made itself out of all the
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forgotten pieces we left behind. And that was
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all that was said for the final or for the final
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part of that night. No one had said or uttered
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another word. We all went to sleep and Orion
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went home. The twin suns and the three moons
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were hanging in the normal spots the next day
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over the Glyphid Bay. I walked alone to the ridge
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overlooking the sea where Glyphids are docked
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in their resting stations, each glowing faintly
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responding to their catcher's energy. Orabeak
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flutters down beside me, chirping curiously.
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The golden scarab presses its beak gently to
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my temple. You saw it too, didn't you? The other
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side of us. Orabeak emits a low, harmonic hum.
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Mimir's glyphid flickers at my hip, as though
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echoing the feeling. We were heading into a place
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where thoughts could become storms. and reflections
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could become rivals. Well, we wouldn't go unharmed
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or unarmed because we didn't want to get harmed.
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Elsewhere, far from the sanctuary, a figure cloaked
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in crimson and jet black robes kneels beside
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a cracked floating shard of obsidian around them.
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Dozens of glyphids warp and humming with mere
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energy hover slightly. They place their hand
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over a glowing relic, another mirror shards,
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stitched together with silver thread and blood
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ink. The figure whispers in a forgotten tongue.
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Soon the refractions will see the truth. There
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are no catchers, only keepers. In all light,
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cast a shadow. The mysterious voice whispered.
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Next time on the Monster Catchers Journal, we
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enter the crypt. cryptplained waste we search
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for the glyph that was never meant to be found
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and we uncover the truth about our own reflections
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we might never come back from the from until
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then keep your glyph it's close and your heart
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guard it and if your thoughts begin speaking
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in your voice don't answer them