Jordhin was born to parents Sagara and Januar, alongside their clutch brother, Jaharin. Their brother was born strong, while Jordhin was a runt—unusual in such a small clutch. Their mother looked upon them with a knowing, secretive dread.

The family lived in District 12, within a small tower floor, scraping by. Januar was a soldier, absent for Moons at a time, and Sagara worked on and off primarily as a housekeeper for very little additional coin. She struggled with poor health and perpetual exhaustion, and could not often work. Unbeknownst to her husband, she had an inheritance she slowly picked from to ensure a comfortable enough life for her children—disguising it as regular income.

This inheritance came to her as the last member of her bloodline, after each one had fallen to tragedy before she met Januar. The leading tragedy, it turned out, was a curse of young death.

This same curse had secretly eaten away at Sagara herself, weakening her heart and her health in turn—and one day, her five year-old Jordhin collapsed.

What Sagara had prayed not to happen came to be; her curse passed on to one of her children, and far earlier than her own had seized her. Januar, horrified to learn this destiny befalling one of his hatchlings, cast Sagara out in grief. Sagara looked upon her children one last time, then left forever—leaving what remained of her inheritance for Januar and her children as her last known act. Though Januar came to regret the extent of his outburst, Sagara had disappeared from the city—and given the failing of her own heart, wherever she had gone, she had not lived long.

Jordhin’s childhood shattered, haunted by a destiny to die young, soon, a creeping shadow always around the corner. They watched their father’s crushing guilt over sending only Jaharin to the Warfang Temple, all he was able to afford, hoping to secure a better life for his son who was meant to survive.

Jordhin grew to experience episodes of terrible pain in their heart, worsening at eight years-old, wherein they faded into a darkness while alone in their home, a seemingly endless, eternal void of nothingness that would terrify them for the rest of their life. When they awoke again, only a few hours had passed, even though it had felt like an eternity. Jordhin saw what awaited them there, and carried the terror with them every day. They had to escape it, somehow.

Jaharin brought home the things he’d learned, and Jordhin latched on to stories of great feats of Magic and magical healing. They were able to accompany their brother to the Warfang Temple library, where they learned to read impressively quick, and manifested their Magic from the knowledge they absorbed from the tomes. Magic is wielded by precious few, and learning to wield it all on one’s own was exceedingly rare.

This was enough for some to see their potential. Jordhin asked many Magic healers through the city for tutoring in return for their aid, and though many refused or took advantage of them, some honored the agreement, and Jordhin soaked the teachings like a sponge.

Though some hearts could be helped through known magic, only the damage Jordhin’s did to itself could be healed, slowing its withering—but every beat reduced Jordhin’s life by hours, and their own healing (and what healing their kinder tutors offered) could not keep up. The core of the curse was unknowable, and so Jordhin set out to offer their talents to scholars of Magic, to study the nature of curses and grow their abilities further.

As they grew, Jordhin remained buried in their studies, forgoing friendships, crushes and boyfriends or girlfriends, and giving no more time to their father or brother. Still, their little family offered them all the support they had; caring for them and enabling their studies with some flicker of hope in their worried hearts.

Growing into young adulthood, Jordhin’s weak heart continued to take its toll on their body. They grew short and skinny, and any physical exertion like running or flying were scarce, brief activities. When summoned for mandatory military service, Jordhin’s state of health was poor enough that the Army saw no real use in them; their heart would give out from the training alone.

Jaharin, however, grew to impressive stature, and he made the most of every privilege not available to Jordhin—reaching the top among his peers in both Flight and military training. Despite this, the Guard chose less impressive but richer blood for their quota, and Jaharin became a Soldier like his father.

Eight months into his service, battling in the dawn of the war against Dark Dragons, Jaharin was killed.

Though mourning the loss of their loving brother, Jordhin’s fear of the creeping darkness of death only intensified. This fate could not befall them. No matter the cost.