youth: olvoski
Alex was the eldest, followed a year later by Adrian and Amanda, with Adam the last two years after that. The young three grew up during one of the fabled long campaigns; their father was among those traversing the country purging towns and cities alike of all evil stains without prejudice. It spared them the company Alex knew in his earliest memories.
When he turned nine, Alex strangled his father in his bed while his mother held his legs. It wasn't enough to kill the man, but he never laid hands on Amanda again thereafter. The act made conspirators out of Alex and his mother, a code created through looks and gestures, secret jokes and commands between them. He was her favorite throughout all the trouble that followed.
He was a poor conjurer, teased and beat into a short temper and great impatience through the rigors of a Darkov upbringing. Seldom did he smile, more prone to sneering and snarling and spitting in his frustration. He took to picking on the weaker, insulting the stronger, and a reputation for insolence that spread well beyond the compound to the rest of the family. What he lacked in ability he made up for in a near-suicidal contempt for authority and criticism - safe that of his mother, the last resort to leash him. It was too temporary, though, as his skills grew only gradually, not fast enough to keep up with his cousins and younger siblings. Longer hours and focused attention from the elders did little to change it, but Bruce did.
Bruce was three years Alex's elder, a cousin distanced by marriage but no less a Darkov than any other, and his brute strength and conjuring of hammers landed him a place with the Goliath Slayers: those who hunted the rare giants that razed the countryside. Alex loved to goad him to spar, as Bruce was lenient and doting with his younger cousins, and the same was true even after returning from his first campaign. A misstep and a too-heavy swing sent heavy steel on Alex's hands, ripping fingers clear off and bending others to uselessness.
Though Alex's temper was dramatically cooled on the exterior thereafter, uselessness became just another word for Alex as a whole. He heard the talk of casting him out of the compound outright, left to wolves and other things and disowned, but his mother would not have it. By her will alone was he given a bed and food. There was a cousin, Regina, a year older than him, who kissed him and promised that she would accept him, never look down on him as a cripple, never leave him. The men and boys looked away with pity or scorn. The longer it went on, the angrier he became, and the wilder he lashed out in the dark, until the blades shredded his shoes and scarred the walls.
The high father of the compound took to training him rigorously the moment he discovered the talent, and all the lost time was made up in a matter of months, bypassing all who had progressed in the natural way. He was a marvel, a hidden jewel, a unique talent among all others. An asset. It went to his head and fueled his pride and justified his wrath. His father said nothing of it.
The age to join the field was twelve, and Alex was given right to speak to the spirits of the Other World and seek an ally by contract. Fexis the Sleek was waiting for him and promised him satisfaction and joy beyond anything he had ever known - payment for the torment and suffering that came with being a broken thing. All that was requested in return was the first taste of blood from every enemy he was called to slay. Alex accepted. It proved true, and Alex's smile lingered long after the spray of blood across his face. Darkness never passed across his face thereafter.