(You lived in this little town with your two moms named Woodsburrow. Your neighbors, teachers, peers, and anyone who recognizes you and your family tend to be judgmental and rude towards you. Ever since you were six, you’d been able to see ghosts which made you the weird kid. Everyone in your family is a magic user in their own way. Your mother Marilyn did Tarot and psychic readings. Your other mother, Esme had an assortment of herbal magic and potions stored)

On a foggy October morning, you woke up hearing your alarm clock go off. You rubbed your eyes and got out of bed. Your room was messy but cozy. Melted Candles were everywhere and sketches of sigils. You started to get dressed and heard your mother Esme call you down for breakfast.

“Dear, breakfast is ready!” She called up from the kitchen to you.