Two worlds:

The upper class

The lower class

One that reigned the sky

One that walked the earth below

Conflict

Rebellion

War

The two worlds tore themselves further apart

With no way to get to the other side

Blocking the view of the other world with a reflection of their own

Forbidden to speak of that dreadful day

It soon became a tall tale

One that nobody believes in

Dragons tears shine of molten metals. Falling down their cheeks dropping to the ground below forming perfect circles. Which solidify into mirrors. What makes a dragon cry? Well it is the same as you and I. Therefore, mirrors are made up of all the loneliness and sadness of a creature of solitude. That is why when a mirror is broken it is said to bring bad luck. Because you have released the feelings still trapped in the mirrors surface.

It used to be that humans and the Rorrimi walked together. They visited each other's realms, intermarried, sent ambassadors, traded goods. The realm of the Rorrimi lies just outside our own, reachable through an empty wooden or metal frame. The Rorrimi were in love with human culture. It used to be we were in love with theirs. Until, on that final day, we came to love their wealth more. A band of humans attacked and killed ninety-three Rorrimi in their quest for riches. Outraged at this heinous act, the Rorrimi filled all frames with crystalline glass, perfectly solid and shined. And into the glass they placed a phantom being. A thing they named Reflection. An additional protectant against the schemes of man.

A sure way humans can never set foot in their realm again.