Damien and Henry had slightly different ideas on what sleep was. It was one thing to rest for a few hours. Damien could even understand sleeping through the entire day, he'd done it once or twice.
Four years passed before Damien spoke with Henry again. Damien got a girlfriend for all of three days before they broke up. He studied. He trained. He got another girlfriend. That one lasted a whole month before they broke off. He studied. He trained. And thus, life went on.
It wasn't that Damien didn't try to awaken Henry. He lasted all of two weeks before he first reached out and mentally prodded the Eldritch creature, to absolutely no response. The next day, he tried harder.
A whip of mental energy scored across his mind, giving him the worst headache he'd ever had. It lasted for just over an hour before fading away. In some way, Damien was almost glad. Despite his desire to learn magic, the fear he'd slip up and let Henry free on the world never quite left his mind. It ingrained itself deeply within him, and he only tried to contact the creature one hundred and fifteen times after that.
He got closer to waking Henry with each attempt, but the creature stubbornly refused to budge. Whenever Damien pressed hard enough to bring Henry close to consciousness, a powerful sense of impending doom came over him. He got the feeling that waking the ancient entity within himself for a trivial matter would have gone over very badly. However, Damien managed to build an impressive pain tolerance.
On the day Damien turned seventeen, he found himself deep in thought. This was a rare thing for him, as he spent most of his time deep in other people's thoughts. Hel, like many others, subscribed to the ludicrous notion the only way to learn is through copying, so they often had little time to develop their own, original ideas.
Nonetheless, Damien was having one of those days where inspiration struck. He found himself desperately wishing he'd never summoned Henry when he was thirteen years old. He would have taken just about any other companion. Well, not an air sprit, they were notoriously tricksy and generally weak. But any other one would have been fine.
Unfortunately, he'd already summoned Henry. A mage could only have a single companion, and the contract he'd agreed to required him and Henry to agree to the cancelation.
To make matters worse, Damien's seventeenth birthday held more significance than just getting one year closer to death. Seventeen was the youngest age allowed to join a mage college.
Damien found himself in a bit of a haze as he sat at the kitchen table, his mother seated across from him. She'd made pancakes, which only served to strengthen the sense of déjà vu assaulting the young man. Granted, Hilla Vale made pancakes every day, which lessened the feeling a bit.
"Are you going to eat your pancakes?" Hilla asked Damien. She'd barely aged in the last four years, a benefit of being a mage with a companion.
Damien half-heartedly took another bite. They were delicious, of course. He sighed and set his fork down next to his plate, taking a sip of water to clear the sweet taste out of his mouth.
"I'm worried, Mom. Will the summoning assistants even let me go to the school if I can't summon a companion?"
"What they don't know won't hurt them," Hilla replied.
"You'd just better hope your mysterious friend wakes up before the testing or summoning occurs."
"You aren't making this any better," Damien said. He grimaced and shook his head. "I wish I hadn't been such an idiot when I was thirteen."
"You're still an idiot," Hilla said. "You're just older and better able to conceal it."
"Thanks, Mom."
"No problem," his mother said, laughing. "Now, if you're just going to push your food around, you might as well go wait for the mages to arrive. I can already tell you want to go."
Damien rocketed up from the table. Hilla rolled her eyes and rose as well.
"Hold your horses. I've got something for you."
She reached under the kitchen counter and pulled out a large bundle wrapped in paper. Damien took it from her. It wasn't too heavy, but there was some weight to it. The package was a little squishy. He tore it open, revealing a blue coat, along with a huge white scarf.
"It's mage armor," Hilla explained when she saw Damien's confused expression. "You generally get it once you go out into the field, but I figured now was as good a time as ever. Once you get access to your magic, you can channel it into this robe, and it'll turn as hard as steel upon impact."
Damien took the coat and put it on. The scarf was huge, making a large ring around his head and covering the bottom half of his face. If Damien pulled it up, he could have easily covered his head and had scarf to spare.
"You look great. Now, come here. You're not too old to hug your mother, are you?"
Damien rolled his eyes and gave his mother a tight hug.
The scarf squished against her face. The two of them laughed as they let go. Hilla gave her son a curt nod and made a shooing motion.
"Now, get out. I've got parties to throw now that I'll have the house to myself," Hilla said.
Damien swallowed. He grabbed the travel bag leaning against his chair and nodded. Despite his mother's words, there was sadness in her eyes. Even so, excitement and fear churned in his chest.
"Git!" Hilla ordered, grabbing the young man and pushing him out the door. "And don't even think about doing bad in school."
"I won't," Damien promised. His mother gave him a nod.
Then she blinked and rubbed her eyes.
"Bye, Damien," his mother said.
"Bye, Mom. I'll see you soon," he replied.
Hilla nodded as Damien turned and started down the road toward the center of town. His mother watched him for several more seconds before closing the door and locking it with a final click.
There was already a small crowd forming near the glistening fountain at the town square. Damien spotted the mayor, several other kids his age, and a few older than him, and dozens of parents.
A small caravan consisting of three wagons sat by the fountain on the cobbled road. Three men dressed in red robes and all around forty years of age stood beside the cart, talking to the mayor.
"Only eight this year, Mayor Shindal?" the tallest man asked, rubbing his short beard and casting a critical eye over the teenagers.
"Nine," the mayor said as he spotted Damien making his way through the crowd. "Damien will also be going."
The red robed mage glanced at Damien. His eyebrow rose slightly at the young man's coat, but he just shrugged and gave a curt nod.
"The wagons seat eight, so one of you will be in a different wagon from the rest of your friends," the mage said.
"I'm fine with that," Damien said, volunteering himself.
He didn't have much in the way of feelings toward his classmates. He'd drawn apart with most of his friends after the incident, and he didn't have any particular desire to rekindle the relationship.
"Very well," the same mage said. "In that case, it's time for us to get moving. We've got a tight schedule to keep.
You may simply refer to me as Mage Red. My companions aren't fans of speaking so, please refrain from bothering them if they're in your wagon. We won't be together long, so don't worry yourselves about introductions."
Mage Red pointed at Damien, and then jerked his head in the direction of the back wagon.
"You're in the back. Everyone else, please, get into the second wagon."
Damien nodded and followed the mage's instructions, ducking under the tarp and stepping into the wagon at the back of the line. Four other people around Damien's age already sat on the wooden benches that lined its interior.
Three of them—two boys and one girl—sat on the bench on the left. The girl and one of the boys were dressed in fine clothes and jewelry. The other boy had a rather wicked-looking sword across his lap.
Another girl sat at the far end of the wagon, pointedly not looking in the direction of the other three. Damien glanced between them before carefully sitting in the middle of the bench opposite to the three others, approximately in the middle of the two groups.
"That's a surprise," the wealthy boy said. He had light blond hair and sharp features that gave him a harsh appearance. "I didn't think we'd get another one."
"There is talent everywhere," the boy with the sword said. His clothes were rugged, with bits of metal and leather sewn into them in a form of primitive armor. He had gray hair but looked no older than Damian. "Even in a small town such as this. You should know that well enough, Nolan."
"We're being rude. I apologize. I'm Reena Gray. What's your name?" the girl sitting next to Nolan asked. Her features were so similar to Nolan's that Damian had no doubt they were related.
"Damian Vale," he replied. He glanced in the direction of the girl in the corner of the wagon, but she showed no interest in joining their conversation.
"Mark has already robbed me of the privilege of stating my own name, so I suppose I'll do the same to him," Nolan said, nodding in the direction of the sword wielding boy.
Damian glanced at Mark, and then raised an eyebrow.
"Mark has gray hair and your last name is Gray."
"Astute," Nolan said. "It's an amusing coincidence. Say, what's your companion?"
"Nolan!" Reena chided. "Don't be rude."
"It's just a question," Nolan defended. "Right, Mark?"
"I don't care," Mark said. "But you already know my companion. It's an earth elemental."
"From the Immortal Plane?" Damian asked.
"Correct," Mark said, inclining his head slightly.
"Do you know a lot about companions?" Reena asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"A little," Damien admitted, scratching the back of his head with an awkward smile. "I've wanted to become a mage for years, and I didn't have an outlet other than studying."
"That sounds horrendously boring," Nolan said. "I can't imagine wasting so much time learning such an uninteresting skill."
Damien's smile faltered slightly.
"Nolan!" Reena chided. "Stop acting like a child.
Damien, my companion is a Wind Wight. Do you know where it's from?"
Her words were kind, but Damien spotted the challenge hidden within them.
"The Plane of Stars," Damien said. "It's a rare form of wind elemental."
"Hey, that's two of us who have told you our summon," Nolan said, leaning forward. "Are you going to tell us yours?"
"Ah, it's from the Plane of Darkness," Damien lied. "I don't exactly know what it's called. I think it's something undiscovered."
The girl in the corner lifted her head for the first time.
Her cold black eyes locked onto Damien's back, but he didn't notice.
"Oh?" Nolan asked. "A companion from the Plane of Darkness is a real treat. They're quite rare! I've never seen one myself. Bring it out!"
"I can't," Damien said, grimacing. "It's being a little stubborn right now. I can't actually get it to manifest."
Nolan's interest disappeared. He rolled his eyes and scoffed.
"Right. That's a likely story. Why did they let you into this wagon?"
"The other one was full," Damien replied. "What's that supposed to mean? We all have to get to the mage's college. Why does it matter what wagon we ride in?"
"Look at that. He's just riding along," Nolan said, his face twisting into a sneer. "You aren't one of us at all."
"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, but you sound like a stuck-up prick," Damien said, his eyes narrowing.
A shimmer of gray energy danced across Nolan's hands.
The well-dressed boy paused for long enough to make sure Damien saw it before allowing it to fade.
"Everyone in this wagon was specifically picked up because of their extraordinary talent or powerful companion," Reena said. The kindness had vanished from her voice. "It's disgusting to pretend to be something you aren't. Lying about your companion is just pathetic. Do you even have one?"
"I'm not lying," Damien protested. Well, he was. Just not for the reasons they thought.
Nolan and Reena averted their gazes, as if being in Damien's presence was some sort of affront to them. Mark shrugged indifferently. He didn't seem particularly bothered, but Damien got the feeling that Mark didn't care about much of anything.