You weren’t the most normal teen at the adoption center. You were half witch. You came from a bloodline of magic. You inherited lots of magic, you weren’t all good in your life. Your parents left you on the side of the street, you’d grown at this orphanage for your whole life. You saw a black haired, pale skinned confident man walk inside. He was with a taller black man. “Chris, why are we here again?” the tall man said. “To get a kid, Chef. Great for ratings.” Then, they spotted you.