| | | | | Don't blame me for how evil I am. Blame everybody else. Oh, sorry, let me introduce myself. My name is Henry Drake, but you probably know me as Malistaire. I know what thinking. "Malistaire's name is Henry? That makes no sense!" you cry, so I must explain further. It all started when I was born.
My birth was a messy one. My mother died in childbirth, no amount of life magic could save her. Life! I despise that word. If the wizards in that school are so powerful, then why couldn't they save my mother? Horrible, isn't it? Don't ever trust a life wizard! Oh great, now you're asking more questions. "If you hate life wizards, then why did you marry one?" you beseech, so I will tell you that that part comes later in the story. Anyway, that's when my hatred first started to blossom.
As an early child, I began to hate the school of myth. You see, when you are first born, the medical wizards can tell what school you'll be in and they'll tell your parents. My dad told us our schools as soon as we were old enough to understand him. "You, Cyrus, are a student of myth," he said to my stuck up brother. "And you, Henry, are a student of life." Don't ask more questions! Not yet. Anyway, I was furious that I was life. The worst part was that I couldn't even summon an imp like most toddlers my age could. Cyrus, however, was the most amazing wizard anyone had ever seen at that age.
He could summon up a cyclops without even trying! And he always rubbed it in my face! Once, he was bragging about his minotaur (we were about seven years old) and all the anger inside of me burst out. I faintly remembered reading about the schools of magic. When I thought of my loathing, only one came to mind. Death.
"Skeletal Pirate! Vampire! Banshee! Scarecrow!" I screamed, and all of these creatures rose and attacked Cyrus. I faintly heard my brother scream for help, but I was too amazed by myself to care. I had summoned a scarecrow! And I was seven! I knew that I would be the most powerful wizard ever to walk the earth, but as death, not life. Suddenly, I heard the belch of a humungofrog, the cry of a medusa, and the grunt of a troll. All the monsters were gone, and my brother lay on the floor, bloody and broken. My father rushed in.
"CYRUS! Cyrus, are you all right?" he questioned with tears in his eyes over his favorite son.
"I was just standing here, and Henry attacked me! MALISTAIRE!" he yelled. That's how I got my name. The first Malistaire was a death titan, the most evil being ever to be created. Until now. My father turned me to stone for a week because of that dirty liar. Don't ever trust a myth wizard!
As soon as I was freed from my cruel and unusual punishment, I ran back to my room and looked through all of the books that talked about death magic. My favorite books were Death: A History and What's Gonna Kill You? Death is! They both had lots of facts, from the first death student's life to corrupting spells of other schools.
Before we knew it, me and Cyrus were off to school at Ravenwood. "Cyrus Drake," my brother said to Mr. Lincoln, the registrar. He was directed to the school of myth. I stepped up to the stork.
"Henry Drake." The stork pointed me towards the life school. I had to think fast. "Did I say Henry Drake? I meant to say Malistaire Drake, student of Death. I didn't get a chance to register, but all magical students are welcome, right?" The stork nodded, and pointed me toward the death school. On my way over there, I met a short kid with mousy brown hair and a bit of a hunchback. "Hi," I said, "My name's Hen- I mean, Malistaire, a student of death."
"My name's Dworgyn. I'm death too. Hey, I think I see the Death school over there!" mutterd the odd little kid who would soon be my best friend. I looked where his crooked finger was pointing, and stared in awe.
It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. The swirling tendrils of darkness enveloped everything around them with a dark cloud. The monstrous thorns climbing up the steep walls were sharp enough to break through a lightning snake's thick skin. The trees surrounding it were dead, yet eerily alive. A life student walked by, and one of the trees sprouted a face and ate her. The tree immediately disintegrated as a fire student passed by.
"They should just kill all of the trees around the death school," she said as she sauntered up to them. I immediately realized that she was not a normal wizard. Her hair blazed with fire as it danced like a flame through the air. "Hello. My name is Dalia Falmea, my mother was a wizard, my father a fire elf, that's why my hair looks like this. Well, I have to run! Don't want to be late for class!" she shouted as she ran off, setting another tree ablaze when it tried to eat her. Seeing those poor defenseless trees die made me realize that you should never trust a fire wizard!
Annoyed, I started to pass through the glorious obsidian doors to my destiny, when I was immediatlely interrupted yet again. "Hello, students!" said the tall man with sandy blond hair who had just stepped in front of us. "My name is Merle Ambrose, storm professor here at the Ravenwood School of Magical Arts. You see that girl over there?" He pointed us toward a scrawny little girl in a purple and yellow Ravenwood uniform. "She's working on her accuracy, because as you probably know storm doesn't have very good accuracy. I thought maybe she would do better if she was under pressure, so she's going to aim between your heads. If you want to live, don't move," he said with a wink. That's right, he was just as awful to death students back then as he is now. You may think he's kind to death, but it's all an act.
We stood, frozen in fear, as a lightning bolt shot toward us. I watched in horror as it veered to the left and hit Dworgyn in the head. Don't ever trust a storm wizard!
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