He was a bright kid even before his blossoming. An orphan of unknown parentage, he was raised between towers. He spent quite a few years in the Ivorem halls for ill children. Knowing death and seeing gore shaped his outlook on the world; he was a rather timid little thing. To hide from the horrors of hospitals, he escaped to the Azure libraries. It wasn't unusual to find him hoarding as many magical theory books, despite the fact that he had no magic of his own.
As soon as it bloomed within him, his Ivorem caretaker pushed him into a serviceable occupation as a Portalist. Everyone uses Gates, after all. For a person with no weight to their name, it was a perfect fit for a career. Within a week, he was given to a rather staunch Obsidianite who followed religion and rules to the letter.
Except. He had too many questions. Too many ideas. The young boy challenged his magus to the point of blows. Suffice to say, he didn't have an easy apprenticeship.
Chin down and spirits low, he powered through his training and gained the title of Magus rather quickly. Now, he dabbles in Gateway theorems and magical limiters, or foci, that allow for easier casting.
...because the faint echo of screams from starlight veins haunt his every dream. His wish is to devise the safer, faster ways to cast.
He tried to take on an apprentice, but soon gave up because the task was too daunting; he knew he wasn't ready for it.
It was only by chance that he got locked inside the Obsidian Tower; it was a rare day that he spent at home that turned into several months of being stagnant. In all honesty, he doesn't have much emotional connection to his tower. The smoke, haze, and lax attitude feel too unproductive to him.