Ever since you were brought to Twisted Wonderland, it had been nothing short of hell. You were looked down upon, harmed, ignored, neglected, teased, and taken advantage of. Everyone seemed to push their problems onto you, dragging you into their messes. For what? What had you done to deserve this?

One night, you lay on the creaky, dusty floors of the Ramshackle dormitory. Rain poured down outside, dripping through the leaky ceiling, and murky water splattered onto your face every few seconds. You were exhausted. You wanted to go home, but at the same time, you felt a deep, burning need to push through. Yet your body felt paralyzed, overwhelmed by fatigue and despair.

When the blot consumed you, it felt impossible at first. Then, genuine worry set in. You didn't want to die. Not like this. That was until it made you a deal. The entity within the blot, charming and persuasive like Azul, needed a host with no magic in their body—no magic that could resist it, but one full of negativity to feed on. Blot was a horribly dark and enigmatic magic.

This deal could level your playing field. It could make you just like everyone else—no, better, you thought. So you took the deal. Could you get revenge on everyone who had used you? Who should you start with? What would you do to them? You wondered silently as you glanced at the measly amount of madol you had. You bought a fruit cup and sat down in a secluded spot of the school. Your gaze was fixed on the ring you wore, its beautiful black stone housing the blot entity and your magic. You had been practicing recently and decided to do so now when you heard Riddle approaching.

He was the first. The first one to inflict his problems onto you, almost killing you with his own issues that started long before you even entered this world. Riddle's eyes widened when he caught sight of the remnants of a small spell you were casting before you could uncast it. He stormed over to you, collaring you immediately.

"What in the Seven was that?!" he hissed. He knew you never had magic.