Born in 1909 as Benedict Carver to Franklin and Florence (Mia) Carver. Their only child, Ben walked, side by side, with his father nearly every day, learning everything a business man of the early 20th century needed to know. Europe was warming up to war and his father was properly vested in production to make a mint.
Despite spending most of his time with his father, he was a son of his mother. Her secret was his, and his youth and relationship with his father proved too much for the boy; their secret was out. Within months, the relationship between father and son had fallen into near silence. With his eyes opened to the supernatural and a missing relationship with his father, Benedict started seeking the dark arts.
At the age of 15, he ran away from home. His father coming home only once or twice a month and a mentor for magic training beckoning him sent him on his own to Baton Rouge. Three years of study brought him to the level of his master with an anger that required quenching.
His mother destroyed his relationship with his father. If she were gone, he might come back.
Returning to New York, Ben found his father first. The murder of Franklin Carver was on the front page of all the papers. One of the wealthiest names in New York, estranged from his wife, with a runaway son, and, just days ago, lost everything in the crash of ’28 found dead with his throat slit in a hotel room paid for by a young beauty.
With his dark powers, he tracked her. Her money ran dry quickly and he found her in Ohio, waitressing for tips at the local diner. Her eyes caught him walking past the large window and excused herself for a short break.
Outside, she told him that his father was trying to sell their secret to the government. Blinded by hate, he whispered words under his breath as he opened his arms to embrace her. As his arms encircled her, she stiffened. As he brought her face to his neck, her knees buckled and he let her fall, wheezing to the dirt of the alley. Her complection paled as she aged hundreds of years in moments. When the bones resembled old drift wood he turned and walked away.
Since, Ben has taken several names over the years, but always follows the same path; He welcomes the dark.