In the narrow, sunless alleyways of the Old Lands' lowest slums, life was already threadbare long before the grey dust settled. For Jormungand, though, the hardship was always softened by small mercies. While other children learned to fight for scraps, Jormungand learned to watch. He moved like a quiet shadow through the crowded tenements, his wide, golden eyes catching the tiny details everyone else stepped over, a smooth, glass like pebble wedged between cobblestones, the way light filtered through torn canvas, or the fleeting visit of a stray moth.

He was the heart of his family, a gentle, hushed presence who stayed tucked safely behind his mother’s apron or his father’s shoulder whenever strangers passed. Yet despite his deep shyness, Jormungand worked tirelessly to ease their burdens. He spent long, quiet hours untangling thread, scrubbing floorboards until his small hands were raw, and venturing into the damp fringes of the slums to scavenge brass nails or usable linen to sell. He never spoke much, but when he placed a rare, polished stone into his sister’s palm with a whispered, sincere "For you," his love was undeniable.

Then, the Fading crept in.

It didn't arrive with thunder or fire, it drifted in as an unnatural, lingering silence. First, the urban vermin and alley birds vanished overnight, an early warning Jormungand noticed long before the adults did. Soon after, the stagnant water in the slum's communal wells turned thick and dark. The surrounding soil hardened, splitting into pale, grey dust that clung to everything.It wasn't long before the sickness found his home. His parents, already worn down by years of poverty, began to display the telltale signs. A bone deep fatigue that no sleep could mend, ashen discoloration spreading across their skin, and restless nights filled with unspoken nightmares. Fine, grey dust seemed to gather constantly on their clothes and hair, no matter how carefully Jormungand brushed it away.

Desperate to save them, he forced himself out of his comfortable corners and into the terrifying, chaotic world beyond his sanctuary. Every morning, he pulled his heavy hood low over his bright hair, pressing himself against dark walls to avoid the growing panic in the streets. He ventured into dangerous, collapsing districts to fetch clean rainwater from distant springs or trade scavenged trinkets for small scraps of food to nourish his weakening family.

The final separation came on a day when the Fading took a violent leap forward. Entire blocks of the slums were deemed corrupted, triggering a frantic, brutal mass exodus. panicking crowds surged through the narrow gates toward the eastern highways.Jormungand had slipped away early that morning to retrieve a hidden cache of clean water he had saved. By the time he returned, the alleyways were a crushing tide of desperate bodies. Clutched tightly in his arms were his small scavenged jars and a pretty, iridescent stone he had found along the path, a small gift he hoped would bring a smile to his mother's tired face.
He tried to reach them. He called out, but his voice, always hushed, soft, and gentle, was completely swallowed by the roaring chaos of the mob. Shy and terrified of the violent shoving, Jormungand was pinned against a stone doorway, watching helplessly over the heads of the crowd. For a single, fleeting second, his bright yellow eyes locked onto his mother's ashen face across the sea of people. She reached for him, but the surging tide swept his family through the gates and down the river road, leaving him stranded in the decaying city.

When the dust finally settled, the slums were empty, save for the silent decay of the Fading.

Now, Jormungand wanders the fading world as a quiet, solitary shadow. Standing at five foot eight, wrapped tightly in his hooded cloak with serpent like markings tracing his neck, he carries the heartbreaking contrast of his past, a kid who lost everything to a slow nightmare, yet still looks at the broken world with wide, innocent eyes, finding quiet wonder in tiny treasures while holding onto the fragile hope of finding his family again.