I took a deep breath and reached out toward the dead raven.
Okay. Okay, I can do this.
I just made blood glow. I created a sigil. This is just... the next step.
Just commanding a corpse to move.
Easy.
Totally easy.
Absolutely not terrifying.
I placed my hand on the raven's cold feathers and felt that same void I'd sensed before—the absence of life, the space where consciousness used to be.
Move, I thought, pushing magic into that void with all the force I could muster. MOVE. I command you to move.
Nothing happened.
The raven lay perfectly still, its dull eyes closed, its body completely unresponsive.
Come on. MOVE. I'm ordering you to MOVE.
I pushed harder, channeling more magic, more will, more force into the dead bird.
Still nothing.
Frustration crashed over me like a wave.
What the FUCK?
I just did blood magic. I created a SIGIL. Why isn't this WORKING?
I opened my eyes and looked at Corvus, expecting... I don't know. Disappointment? Criticism?
Instead, he was watching me with that same unreadable expression, one eyebrow slightly raised.
"You're trying to force it," he said quietly.
"Yes," I said, not bothering to hide my frustration. "I'm trying to make it MOVE."
"Precisely the problem," Corvus said. He stood and walked around the table, his movements slow and deliberate. "Death does not respond to force, Lady Isabel. It does not bow to commands. It does not obey orders."
He gestured to the dead raven.
"Death is not a servant. It is not a tool to be wielded. It is a state. A transition. A void that can only be filled by invitation."
Invitation?
What does that even MEAN?
"I don't understand," I said.
"No," Corvus agreed. "You don't. But you will."
He leaned against the table, his pale eyes fixed on mine.
"When you shaped the blood sigil, you didn't command the blood to move. You invited it. You offered it purpose. You gave it direction through will, not force. The blood wanted to form the sigil because you made it understand what it was becoming."
He paused.
"Death is the same. The raven's body is empty, yes. But it remembers what it was. It remembers flight. It remembers purpose. It remembers being."
Corvus gestured to the dead bird again.
"Your task is not to command it to move. Your task is to seduce it. To invite it back. To offer it purpose again—not true life, but the memory of life. The echo of what it was."
Seduce death.
I need to SEDUCE death.
That's... actually kind of hot.
Focus, Isabel. FOCUS.
"How?" I asked.
"Try again," Corvus said. "But this time, don't command. Invite."
He returned to his chair and opened his scaled book, dismissing me back to the raven with a gesture.
Okay.
Okay, I can do this.
I just need to... seduce a dead bird.
My life is WEIRD.
I closed my eyes and placed my hand on the raven's feathers again, feeling that cold, that void, that absence.
But this time, instead of pushing, I invited.
You were a raven once, I thought, directing the idea at the emptiness. You flew. You hunted. You lived.
I can give you that again. Not true life—I'm not THAT powerful. But purpose. Movement. Existence.
Come back. Just for a moment. Just to move one more time.
I felt something shift—a response, faint but real. The void wasn't completely empty anymore. It was... listening.
Yes, I thought. That's it. Come back.
I pushed magic into that space, but gently this time. Not forcing. Inviting. Offering. Seducing.
Fly. Stand. Move. Be.
The raven's eyes opened.
They glowed with that same purple light as the blood sigil, and I felt a connection snap into place—a thread of magic linking me to the dead bird, binding it to my will.
The raven stood up on the table.
Its movements were jerky, unnatural, like a puppet on strings. But it was moving. It was standing. It was responding.
I DID IT.
I ACTUALLY DID IT.
I ANIMATED A CORPSE.
The raven tilted its head, its glowing purple eyes fixed on me, and I felt a surge of power so intense it made my head spin.
This is real.
This is REAL.
I have actual, genuine, terrifying POWER.
I looked at Corvus, unable to keep the grin off my face, and saw something I hadn't expected.
He was smiling.
Not a big smile—just a slight curve of his lips—but it was genuine.
"Remarkable," he said quietly. "Most students take weeks to achieve even a flicker of response. You did it in minutes."
WEEKS.
I did in MINUTES what takes other people WEEKS.
I'm a PRODIGY.
"Can we do more?" I asked, and I didn't even try to hide my eagerness anymore.
Corvus's smile widened slightly.
"We can," he said. "But not today. You've used a significant amount of energy, and blood magic takes a toll. You need to rest, recover, and let your body adjust to channeling this much power."
No.
No, I want to do MORE.
I want to learn EVERYTHING.
But even as I thought it, I felt the exhaustion hit me—a wave of tiredness that made my knees weak and my vision blur slightly.
Oh.
Oh, he's right.
I'm actually exhausted.
Stupid physical limitations.
I let the magic drop, and the raven fell back to the table, lifeless once more. The purple glow faded from its eyes, and the thread connecting us dissolved.
Rest in peace, little raven.
Thank you for being my first successful necromancy.
I wrapped my bleeding palm in a handkerchief I found in my pocket—because apparently Isabel's body came with useful items—and looked back at Corvus.
"When can we continue?" I asked.
"Tomorrow," he said. "Same time. And Lady Isabel?"
"Yes?"
"Whatever changed in you—whatever caused this transformation—don't lose it. This is the Isabel that House Raven needs. This is the Isabel that could become truly powerful."
Oh, I'm not losing this.
This is who I am now.
This is who I'm GOING to be.
"I won't," I promised.
Corvus nodded, then returned to his scaled book, dismissing me without another word.
I walked out of the library on shaking legs, my palm throbbing, my head spinning with exhaustion and triumph.
Tomorrow.
Same time.
I'm going to come back and do this AGAIN.
And again.
And again.
Until I can animate a HUNDRED dead birds.
Until I can raise an ARMY of the dead.
Until I'm so powerful that the entire kingdom trembles at my name.
The hallways of Ravencrest Manor seemed brighter somehow, less intimidating and more... welcoming.
Like the house itself recognized that I belonged here now.
I'm coming back tomorrow, Corvus.
And I'm going to be UNSTOPPABLE.