Maleficus Volucris

• Oliver Pearn, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2008

“Obscurus Corvus, ego arcesso vos” a mans voice bounced out from the cave and over the mountains. As foul as the loud squawk was, Lathog felt immense joy hearing it, the spell had worked!
A dark purple feather sprouted out from his spine, Lathog screamed in agony as more followed, his skin began to bubble, his arms began to discolor, turning into a off shade of green. The transformation was over, the pact was made, he now knew what the squawk meant. “ul'goth” he whispered his name.

In Yorkshire screams rang throughout the streets, a single whip was cracking, faceless corpses lay on the ground, one beast was causing this massacre, Ravens Picked at the Corpses, the beast cracked the whip, hitting a man in the face his face was sucked clean off, the mans blue ghostly head was dragged towards ul'goth, upon reaching him it exploded, ul'goths teeth became yellow.

The last of the living hid within the mages tower, the mages tower was merely a large blue spire in the center of Yorkshire, it was made as a transmitter for spells that effected the entire country.
Ul'goth sensed their heartbeats, he arrived at the door, he clawed his way through, a guitar sat against the wall, ul'goth grabbed it, then sniffed it, ul'goths heart stopped beating. A mage jumped out from the shadows and grabbed the guitar, then played a single note. A chill went through ul'goths lifeless spine, his skin turned pink again, the feathers shed from his spine.
A foul loud squawk rang throughout the tower, The mages skin bubbled, dark purple feathers sprouted from his spine. He whispered “ul'goth”.

Far over the mountians a raven cackled. It sounded like a sinister laugh. ul'goth the punisher will live on... it thought to itself