The time had finally arrived. The event for which most of the people present had gathered. An odd event—one that wasn't very common in the magic society.
Lyra Cross had challenged the patriarch of the Cross family—her father—to a duel for the position of head of House Cross.
Lugh glanced at her.
"Are you confident?"
"Of course I am,"
She responded breezily, her voice as calm as still water. Not a hint of doubt, not even a tremor.
She had changed her outfit. It still wasn't fancy. It wasn't meant to be. Everything about it spoke of practicality and ease of movement. After all, she was going to fight.
She wore long, loose-fitting trousers, dyed a deep black. Her feet were clad in lightweight shoes designed for quick movement and firm footing.
