For as long as I can remember, I’ve always felt it: my home world is different, and I’m called by another name. Not Marcus Grinch, nineteen years old, from the suburbs of New York.
Magic! It definitely exists. I’m certain of it. Attempts to awaken my gift, to remember a past life, and to summon a god have led to nothing.
“Maybe I was born in a world without magic?”
That’s what I thought—until, by chance, I learned about the White Devil who makes deals with people. Turns out, he’s only a five-minute walk away.