Days Twelve through Fourteen were TORTURE.
I raised the DEAD at a GARDEN PARTY.
PUBLIC NECROMANCY.
THREE NIGHTMARE RAVENS.
Not just dead birds—SPECTRAL HORRORS that fed on FEAR and PAIN and DESPAIR.
Ravens that MULTIPLIED as people SCREAMED.
Ravens that made grown nobles FLEE.
I expected RIOTS.
I expected the Church to storm Ravencrest with holy water and FIRE.
I expected ARRESTS or INVESTIGATIONS or at LEAST someone trying to CURSE ME BACK.
Instead?
Whispers.
Fucking WHISPERS.
People stared. People avoided me. People whispered behind their stupid fans like I couldn't SEE them doing it.
"Did you see what she did?" "Those ravens." "They fed on fear." "House Raven is terrifying." "Stay away from her."
BORING.
SO BORING.
I'm DYING of boredom.
I paced my chambers like a caged animal, Nyx coiled around my shoulders watching me with those knowing eyes.
"You're experiencing withdrawal," he said helpfully.
"I'm experiencing BOREDOM," I snapped. "There's a difference."
"Is there?" Nyx's tongue flicked out. "You tasted chaos. You tasted FEAR. You made people see your true nature and now you're addicted to that feeling. That's withdrawal, Isabel."
FUCK.
He's RIGHT.
I'm addicted to CHAOS.
To the FEAR.
Watching people realize I'm not PERFORMING wickedness—I AM wickedness.
And now there's NOTHING.
Just whispers and avoidance and BOREDOM.
I threw myself onto my bed dramatically.
"I need something to HAPPEN," I said to the ceiling. "I need CHAOS. I need—"
A knock at the door.
FINALLY.
"Enter," I called, sitting up.
Sister Celeste swept in, her Church robes pristine, her expression carefully neutral.
But her EYES.
Her eyes are GLEAMING.
"Lady Isabel," she said formally. Then the door closed and her expression shifted into something WICKED. "We need to talk about those ravens."
Oh FUCK YES.
She's not here to LECTURE me.
She's here because she LOVED it.
I grinned. "The nightmare ravens? What about them?"
Celeste sat in the chair across from me, leaning forward with barely contained excitement.
"The Church is TERRIFIED," she said. "Not just concerned. Not just worried. TERRIFIED. Do you understand what you did?"
"I raised three dead birds," I said innocently.
"You raised SPECTRAL HORRORS that fed on FEAR," Celeste corrected. "You created a feedback loop—the ravens caused fear, fed on it, MULTIPLIED, caused MORE fear. In front of WITNESSES. In front of NOBLES. In front of people who will TALK."
She paused.
"The kingdom is calling them the Nightmare Ravens. They're saying House Raven has unleashed something that shouldn't exist. They're saying you're not just practicing dark magic—you're CHAOS INCARNATE."
Oh.
OH.
They're RIGHT.
That's EXACTLY what I am.
"And the Church?" I asked.
"Mobilizing," Celeste said quietly. "Sister Margarethe is pushing for immediate action. Bishop Aldwin is drafting heresy charges. They're planning something DRAMATIC."
Good.
GOOD.
I WANT them to come.
I want the CONFRONTATION.
"When?" I asked.
"Soon," Celeste said. "Days, not weeks. They're gathering evidence, building their case. They want to make an example of you."
She paused, her expression serious.
"Isabel, they're not just scared of your magic. They're scared of what you REPRESENT. You're not hiding. You're not apologizing. You're not PERFORMING wickedness—you're BEING it. And that terrifies them more than any spell."
Because I'm REAL.
Because I'm not pretending to be redeemable.
Because I'm showing them what genuine evil looks like when it's HONEST about itself.
Another knock at the door.
What is this, GRAND CENTRAL STATION?
"Enter," I called.
Princess Elara slipped inside, her eyes bright with barely contained excitement.
My corrupted little princess.
My perfect pet.
"Isabel!" she said breathlessly. "I need to learn that spell. The nightmare ravens. I NEED to learn it."
Celeste and I exchanged glances.
"Your Highness," Celeste said carefully. "That spell is extraordinarily dangerous. It requires—"
"I don't CARE," Elara interrupted. "I saw what it did. I saw how people FEARED it. I saw how it made Isabel LEGENDARY."
She turned to me, her expression desperate and hungry.
"Teach me," she said. "Please. I want to be like you. I want to be POWERFUL. I want to be FEARED."
Oh, my brilliant little monster.
You're learning.
You're understanding that power requires SPECTACLE.
"That spell nearly killed me," I said honestly. "It took everything I had. It showed everyone my TRUE nature—not the performance, the REALITY. Are you ready for that?"
Elara nodded without hesitation.
"I'm ready," she said. "I'm tired of being the perfect princess. I'm tired of PERFORMING. I want to be REAL."
Just like me.
She wants to stop pretending.
She wants to embrace the chaos.
Before I could respond, another knock.
SERIOUSLY?
A servant entered, bowing deeply.
"Lady Isabel," he said nervously. "An invitation has arrived. From Lord Cedric Thornwick."
Thornwick.
The gentle nature mage.
The one who grows FLOWERS.
He handed me the envelope—expensive paper, elegant script, sealed with green wax.
I opened it.
"Lady Isabel Nyx Raven,
House Thornwick requests the honor of your presence at a private dinner gathering. We understand you've had a trying few days and thought you might appreciate an evening of civilized company.
Tomorrow evening, if you're available.
We've also invited Princess Elara, as we understand you've become close.
Yours in friendship,
Lord Cedric Thornwick"
I read it twice.
A dinner.
At Thornwick estate.
With the gentle nature mage who grows FLOWERS.
After I just raised NIGHTMARE RAVENS at a garden party.
This is either a trap or...
I looked up at Celeste and Elara, grinning.
"This is PERFECT."