In the Echoed Mountains, where time repeated itself every few hours, Liss arrived with Thessaly. They had followed rumors of a new god fragment appearing—one that imitated powers it had no right to hold.
What they found was a being shaped like smoke and starlight.
It smiled with her face.
"You're… me?" Liss asked.
"I'm what the world would've made you if you chose vengeance," the mirror-Liss replied.
"And I think you're weak."
Thessaly raised her blade.
"Wrong answer."
But Liss raised a hand.
"Let me handle her."
They fought across shifting time-plates—echoes of past battles swirling in the mist. The mirror fought with rage. Liss fought with memory.
And then… she whispered her spell:
"Reflect and serve."
The mirror twisted. Collapsed.
Then stood again—identical. But loyal.
"You made a copy of me?" the mirror-Liss asked.
"No," Liss said.
"I made a choice. You're mine now."
And the mountain wept.