Damian was born in New Sanguine to a peasant mother. Damian's mother had always told him that one night his father gathered up all of their money and left without saying a word. Because of this, Damian grew up very quickly. By the time he was 10, he was providing for him and his mother by begging for food and money at the square, or doing stressful work for low pay at one of the farms. It was hard, but he didn't know any different. This had always been his life, and taking care of his mother gave him a purpose in life.

When Damian was 13, he came home from work late at night. Usually his mother would be in bed, but when he checked on her she wasn't there. Worried, Damian walked out of the small bedroom to the common room, where he slept. There stood his mother, looking out the small window. It was hidden just behind a small alcove, so he couldn't see her when he walked in. Damian called to his mother, and asked what was wrong. She turned slowly, and as she did so a small glint came from her hand. She was holding a knife. Damian stepped back slowly, not knowing what to do. He was so confused. However, he had no time to think about it because his mother lunged at him with the knife. Damian dodged to the left, but he wasn't quick enough. He felt his arm begin to burn, so he looked at it. The knife was lodged into his bicep. Crying, he pulled the knife out and threw it across the room. He pushed his mother out of his way and ran outside. He sprinted down the streets until he could no longer run. He just had to find a spot to hide from his mother. Despite his efforts, Damian ended up feinting in the street due to the trauma he had just suffered.

Damian awakened to the sound of.... nothing. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was in a house he had never seen before. He looked at his arm, thinking it had all been a nightmare, but surely enough his arm was wrapped up in clean, white gauze. "Ah, you're awake." said a voice from across the room. Damian's eyes darted to the origin of the voice, and saw a rugged looking man sitting in a wooden chair in the corner of the small room. He stood, and as he made his way over, all Damian could think was about how his mother could do such a thing. The man put his hand on Damian's forehead. "Hmm, your cooling off. That's a good sign." The two looked at eachother for a moment, saying nothing. Finally, the silence was broken. "The name's Trace." said the rugged looking man, extending his hand. "My people found you on the street with a bleeding arm. You're one tough kid to survive a wound like that. I've known much stronger men who died from much less."

Damian finally spoke, "Why did you save me? Why didn't you just leave me to die?"
"Well, I wouldn't sleep very well at night knowing I could've saved my only son's life."
Damian narrowed his eyes. This man, whom he had never seen in his life, was claiming to be his father? The father that walked out on him and his mom? He was about to spit in this guy's face when he took a closer look at this guy. His eyes, his mouth, his hair color, the shape of his face. He'd seen it all before, in his reflection. Hell, he could've been looking in a mirror at that moment if it hadn't been for Trace's thick beard. Still, Damian was skeptical.
"My mother told me my dad walked out on us and never looked back."
"Your mother also tried to stab you in the heart," Trace said with an unimpressed look on his face.
"How did you know that's what happened to me?" Damian asked. Trace turned and gazed out the window.
"I've been watching you for years, Damian. I had to make sure you were okay."
"Right, says the supposed father who left me alone for 13 years."
"I couldn't live with you. My being there put you in more direct danger. No, I had to leave. You had to be the one to take care of your mother. At least until you were old enough to understand."
"Understand what?" Damian was furious. He was tired of this man trying to play him.
Trace sighed and turned back to Damian. "Your mother is a wild mage," he said point blank. "At least, she wants to be. That's why she tried to kill you. Wild mages require sacrifices to become what they are. If I had stayed to take care of your mother, she would've killed you a long time ago, because she wouldn't have needed you."
"What the hell? Right. So you're trying to tell me that my mother is a psychopathic murderer bent on having absolute power? Then why did she just suddenly decide to do it? To kill me?" Damian asked.
"I've never known what goes through that woman's head. All I know is that she's still out there. And for her to become what she wants most, she has to kill you or me. Or take part of herself. I'm going to teach you how to defend yourself for when she comes back."
"How am I supposed to defend myself against a mage?"
Trace scoffed. "She never told you? That's just like the bitch." He placed his hands on Damian's shoulder's. Suddenly, Damian's shoulders got ice cold. He looked at Trace's hands, which were now covered in ice and steaming.
"I'm a mage, Damian. And my blood runs through your veins. You are my son, and you are a mage as well."

The next part of this bio is going to be shorter because I've already written a novel...

And so, Damian lived with his father, the leader of a local gang of thieves. Trace taught Damian about the world, as well as how to quickly navigate the city and how to defend himself with a sword. Now, Trace is getting up there in years, and it has been 18 years since Damian has seen his mother. She has had just as much time to prepare as he has. To protect him, Trace asked Damian to move to Twilight College. Hopefully there he could further develop his magical abilities, as well as have many others around him to help protect him.