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You need to get dressed and prepare for your first evaluation with your councilor. You still can't believe they waste your time with this nonsense but you aren't going to disobey.

You head to the kitchen and flick your wrist. Your coffee maker begins to glow purple and starts brewing a pot of coffee. You make your way to the bathroom to look in the mirror. Your hands become surrounded by a purple aura. As you run your fingers through your hair, you see it more and more groomed until it looks fresh out of a salon. You rub your face and makeup is magically applied. Lastly, you snap your fingers and your pajamas transform into leggings and a short yellow sundress.

You pour yourself a cup of coffee and check your phone. Your eyes turn purple as you use your mind to navigate the device. The councilor will be arriving soon.

Suddenly the lights go out. You jump up and prepare for a fight. You look around but nothing appears to be there. All this talk of evil magi and dark eras is getting to you. You cast a light spell and the room lights up purple. You find the circuit breaker but nothing you try is getting the lights back on. You let out a frustrated sigh and resign yourself to texting the maintenance guy for help.

On your way back to the table you are forced against a wall. You struggle to move as a shadowy being approaches you. It appears to be a skeleton wearing a robe made from the thickest black smoke. It swirls around him, leaving a smokey trail behind as he hovers ever closer to you. The room chills and your light spell begins to fade. You fear the worst, but finally the being speaks.

"What is your name?" It asks. It's voice is deep and piercing, but is wrapped in a thousand whispers. It's words envelope you and shake your spirit.

"Cho," you utter.

"Cho...I am Azrael." The spirit performs a haunting bow. "I need your help."

It-or...he wants your help? That's preposterous. You take a deep breath and summon your last ounce of courage.

"H-help you? The b-biggest villain in my people's history? Never!" You shout.

You're certain he will kill you now. This is the end. You close your eyes and wait. But death does not claim you. Instead, the spirit laughs at you.

"I am not so easily angered, child. Nor am I so easily dissuaded. So we shall strike a deal. I shall grant you some of my power for one week. Once you get a taste for how your life should be, I will ask you again. Now, inhale the smoke," Azrael beckons.

You tell yourself to hold your breath, but instead you feel yourself breathing in the toxins. It's as if something has separated your mind and your body. The smoke burns your lungs nearly makes you wretch. Your vision begins to blur when suddenly your back at the table with your phone in your hand.

You feel dazed. You almost convince yourself you were dreaming when a familiar voice chimes in.

"Remember, one week. Use your gifts wisely."

Then there's a knock at the door.