The clone of Thessaly was perfect. Same eyes. Same lips. Same sword style.
Even Liss hesitated.
"Is that you?"
The clone smiled.
"Of course."
But then it said:
"Do you still doubt her?"
And Liss froze.
Because real Thessaly never asked that.
They fought. Fast. Brutal.
Liss couldn't win. But she could remember.
"She held me when I couldn't cry," she whispered.
"She never needed to be reassured.
She just stayed."
The clone cracked. Broke.
And real Thessaly walked in.
"Nice job, love," she said. "Next time punch first."