Page 60 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

The wolves solidified until I swore I heard their breathing. A chill prickled over my skin.

“Impressive,” I said, letting some awe slip into my voice. “But beyond terrifying people, what’s the practical use?”

A chilling grin spread across his face, and his eyes glowed faintly silver. My stomach flipped over in a traitorous swirl of attraction. I hated that I was drawn to the darkness in him, but denying it felt pointless.

“They can scout, defend, fight. And this”—he flicked his wrist, dissolving the wolves into a vortex that spun around us—”is just the visible side.” Energy thrummed in the air, causing small objects around the room to vibrate. The vortex pulled into a tight sphere between his palms, flickering with tiny pinpricks of stars. A universe in miniature.

“The real power,” he said evenly, “is how dominion can reshape entire landscapes.”

The darkness expanded, enveloping us. Suddenly, I wasn’t in the training chamber anymore, but standing on a vast plain lit by twin moons. Crystalline structures as tall as trees rose around us. Everything looked surreal, dreamlike.

“Is this real?” I murmured, reaching for the nearest crystal tree. My hand passed straight through.

“It’s a vision,” Kazimir answered, his voice echoing over walls that weren’t there. “A possible reality I could make tangible with the right power.”

The scene blurred and became an altered vision of Solandris’s capital. The palace was dark stone, the gardens glowed with strange luminescent blooms, and overhead hovered Kazimir’s own citadel like a shadowy sun.

“You want to remake Solandris intothis?” I asked, turning to him.

“When I conquer it,” he corrected, “I intend to tear out the corruption and build something better.”

The illusions wavered, then vanished. We stood once more in the training room, the wards and dusty floors reappearingaround us. Kazimir lowered his hands, the glow dimming in his eyes.

“It was... eye-opening,” I conceded. I wasn’t about to stroke his ego further, no matter how mesmerizing the display had been.

A laugh escaped him. “High praise indeed.” He took one step back into the center of the circle, arms crossed. “Your turn. Show me what your magic can do, unhindered.”

My heart pounded. I’d spent so long masking whatever unorthodox talents I had. Even healing was only acceptable because it seemed benign—my father’s attempt to make me useful while maintaining a veneer of virtue.

“You saw the lily,” I started, “and you know I won’t drain a live mouse?—”

“Then pick a different focus.”

I bit my lip, scanning the training chamber. “I need something that’s already dead.”

Kazimir raised a brow, then left briefly. He returned carrying a small, cloth-wrapped bundle. When he set it on the table, I saw it was a dead robin.

“Flew into a tower window,” Kazimir said. “Griffin found it earlier. It must have gotten swept up in the storms below the citadel.”

I swallowed, lifting the little bird’s limp body. “I’m not sure what’ll happen,” I warned him.

“Just be careful,” he said softly. “And don’t injure yourself.”

Ignoring the uneasy flutter in my gut, I closed my eyes. The room teemed with leftover magic from Kazimir’s displays, an environment saturated with potential. Slowly, I tapped into that energy, letting it flow through me the way healing magic always had—except this time, I aimed it into a vessel past saving.

The bird twitched. My eyes flew open. The robin’s wings flapped once, then again. Its clouded eyes opened, fixating on me in a way that felt both eerie and enthralling.

Behind me, Kazimir inhaled sharply. I realized his posture had gone rigid with surprise.

Maintaining the connection felt like juggling streams of lightning. My veins crackled as I fed the bird an imitation of life, not true resurrection but an echo.

I opened my palms, and the robin fluttered upward, circling the training room with uneven sweeps. Each small course-correction was a thread tugging on my soul.

“Necromancy,” Kazimir breathed, wonder creeping into his tone.

“I wouldn’t call it that,” I muttered, though the lines were definitely blurred. “It’s more like replicating function rather than actual life.”

“Semantics,” he countered, but his eyes gleamed with respect.

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