A Duel Beneath Gathering Storms
"I promised you, and I'll keep my word," Yana Tyson said irritably as she stood up.
Her orange eyes burned with determination.
Even after being pushed back so effortlessly by Steffan, there wasn't a trace of fear in them.
The morning breeze drifted through the Tyson Family courtyard, stirring strands of her long black hair. Around her, tension thickened the air like an approaching storm.
"Yana, don't be reckless. You can't beat him," the Tyson Family members said, rushing to hold Yana back from continuing to fight Steffan.
Several elders immediately stepped forward.
One grabbed her wrist.
Another stood in front of her.
A third tried to calm her down.
"Young Miss, please think clearly."
"The gap is too large."
"You'll only get yourself hurt."
"We understand your intentions, but this isn't a battle you can win."
Yana clenched her fists.
Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to suppress her frustration.
How could she retreat now?
