Am I a troubled teen? Mabey. Although “troubled” doesn’t _necessarily_ apply to what I am.

My parents are the living definition of “a picture of perfection”. Top of all their classes in college, perfect teeth, perfect smile, perfect hair, perfect personality, perfect powers, perfect everything. The _only_ thing not perfect? Me.

Their not so smart, rebellious, 14-year-old, black sheep of the family— the worst part? My powers.

They are healers and shielders whereas I’m a Shade. A.k.a a darkness manipulator.

So here I am, at Ridgeveiw— a wilderness camp for troubled teens.

My parents sent me here, thinking it would help me with whatever “phase” I was going through.

But it’s not a phase, it’s just me. Being myself.

Though that doesn’t seem to matter now, as I walk through the freshly polished golden gates of Ridgeveiw.

Crying, yelling, screaming, fire burning the camp cabins down, water flooding the camp ground, chaos, and clearly out-of-it mages. My first thought? I’m not going to make it out of here alive.

Now, to my cabin, room B26.