Yelena's fingers trembled at her sides.
She heard Mika's calm, almost too gentle words and for a split second, she felt like crumbling.
Because deep down...she had always known.
She had always known that no matter how strong she became.
No matter how revered she was as the Saintess of a Thousand Swords, the woman who once cleaved through armies and stood tall among the heavens—
—when it came to Mika, she was just as helpless as the rest of them.
Against that boy, logic unraveled.
Power lost meaning.
Her god-slaying blades might as well be butter knives.
The very laws of nature seemed to skip pages around him.
Once, long ago, she used to tease him. Push him. Bully him, even.
She'd been stronger. Older. Wiser. He was nothing but a runt in her eyes, struggling to keep up with her shadow.
And now?
Now she was the one in his shadow, desperately trying to prove herself...and failing.
She wanted to reclaim her pride.
