I woke the next morning vibrating with anticipation.
Literally vibrating.
My hands were shaking. My heart was racing. I'd spent the entire night replaying the moment the raven's eyes opened—that flash of purple light, that connection snapping into place like a key turning in a lock.
I did that.
I made DEATH respond to me.
I commanded a CORPSE.
The skeleton butler brought breakfast, and I barely touched it. Food seemed irrelevant. Sleep seemed irrelevant. Everything except getting back to that library seemed irrelevant.
By the time afternoon rolled around, I was practically vibrating out of my skin.
The library doors opened at my approach—I swear they recognized me now, swinging inward like a greeting. Corvus was waiting at the stone table, and he'd already prepared another dead raven. This one was larger than yesterday's, its feathers still glossy despite being dead for what looked like several days.
"You're eager," Corvus observed, not looking up from his book.
"I'm READY," I corrected, and I couldn't keep the grin off my face.
He finally looked up, and there was something like approval in those pale eyes.
"Then let's see if yesterday was luck or skill," he said.
Challenge accepted.
I approached the table and placed my hand on the raven's cold feathers. The void was there again—that absence, that emptiness waiting to be filled.
But this time, I didn't hesitate.
I reached out with my magic, with my will, with the absolute certainty that this bird would move because I COMMANDED it to move.
Come back, I thought. Just for a moment. Just to exist again.
The raven's eyes opened.
Purple light flooded them, and the connection snapped into place—stronger this time, more solid, like I was holding a rope made of pure magic.
The raven stood.
Its movements were jerky, unnatural, like a puppet on strings. But it was MOVING. It was RESPONDING.
Yes. YES. This is REAL.
"Make it fly," Corvus said.
Oh, we're not stopping at animation?
We're going FURTHER?
PERFECT.
I focused on the thread of magic connecting me to the dead bird, on the energy flowing through it like electricity through copper wire. I could feel the raven's body—every feather, every bone, every empty space where life used to be.
Fly, I commanded. Spread your wings and FLY.
The raven's wings spread.
Stiffly. Awkwardly. Like they were fighting against gravity itself. But they spread, and I felt the magic respond to my will, pushing, driving, FORCING the dead bird into the air.
The raven lifted off the table.
It flew.
Not gracefully. Not naturally. But it FLEW—circling above the stone table in jerky, uneven loops, its glowing purple eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
I'm doing this.
I'm actually DOING THIS.
I'm making a DEAD THING FLY.
The raven circled again, and again, and I felt the magic flowing through me like a river—constant, powerful, absolutely INTOXICATING.
This is what power feels like.
This is what it means to command DEATH itself.
This is—
The exhaustion hit me like a physical blow.
It crashed over me in a wave so intense that my knees buckled. My vision blurred. The magic thread connecting me to the raven wavered, and I felt the bird's flight becoming erratic.
No. No, not yet. I can keep going. I can—
But I couldn't.
My body was screaming. My head was pounding. Every nerve ending felt like it was on fire, and I realized with a distant sort of horror that I'd pushed too hard, too fast, too far.
I released the magic.
The raven fell.
It crashed back to the stone table with a dull thud, its wings folding against its body, its glowing eyes fading to dull black. The thread of magic connecting us dissolved like smoke, and I felt the loss of it like a physical ache.
No. Come back. I can do more. I can—
"Enough," Corvus said quietly.
I looked up at him, and he was smiling—a genuine, warm smile that transformed his granite face into something almost human.
"Remarkable," he said. "Truly remarkable. Most students take months to achieve what you just did. You did it in minutes. On your second attempt."
MONTHS.
I did in MINUTES what takes other people MONTHS.
I'm a PRODIGY.
"Can we—" I started, but my voice came out hoarse.
"No," Corvus said firmly. "You need to rest. Blood magic takes a toll on the body, and you've pushed yourself to your limit. Go. Sleep. Recover."
I wanted to argue. I wanted to stay and practice until I could make a hundred dead birds fly, until I could raise an entire army of the dead, until I was so powerful that the entire kingdom trembled at my name.
But my body had other ideas.
I wrapped my bleeding palm in a handkerchief and stumbled out of the library on legs that felt like they were made of water.
The hallways of Ravencrest Manor seemed different now.
Less intimidating. Less oppressive. More... welcoming.
The skeleton servants bowed as I passed. The floating candles seemed to burn brighter. Even the portraits of dead Raven ancestors seemed to nod in approval.
They know, I thought distantly. They know what I'm becoming.
I made it back to my chambers and collapsed on the bed without bothering to change clothes.
Sleep came immediately, pulling me under like a riptide.
But before it did, I had one crystalline moment of absolute clarity.
I'm going to master dark magic.
Not eventually. Not someday. NOW.
I'm going to learn every spell, every ritual, every forbidden technique that Corvus can teach me.
I'm going to become so powerful that nobles will tremble when I enter a room.
I'm going to build a reputation so terrifying that my name alone will be a curse.
I'm going to become LEGENDARY.
Not because I want to be remembered.
But because I refuse to be forgotten.
Because I've already died once, and I'm not going to waste this second chance on being ordinary.
Because power is the only thing that matters in this world, and I'm going to take as much of it as I can.
Because I'm Isabel Nyx Raven, and I'm just getting started.