Zoe's fingers tightened around her staff as her double stepped forward, that sharp, predatory grin making her stomach twist.
It was like looking in a mirror, but this reflection didn't feel like hers.
Not really.
Her double's movements were smooth, confident—eerily so—and that grin, that smug tilt of its head, made Zoe's jaw clench.
It didn't just look like her—it moved like her. Every shift of weight, every tick of a finger. It was her without hesitation, without doubt
"Round two," the clone said, her voice a perfect echo of Zoe's, but twisted, just enough to make it sound like a challenge.
'Alright, Shonce, don't overthink it,' Zoe told herself, forcing her breath to even out.
She darted forward, her staff spinning in her hands.
The familiar weight grounded her, but each clash with her clone only tightened the coil in her chest.
