Unloved by their mother, father and seemingly the rest of the world. Innocent children are shoved into group homes and split apart.

Fenrir is the oldest.

He is a lone wolf. To shelter himself from pain and judgement he insists on strength and lack of emotion. His stone cold heart is feared. He is chained up by his callused personality but wants more than fear; he wants family a home and human kindness. 

Jormungand is the middle child.

He drowns in a lake of his bottled his emotions. The tension poisons his mind the words that escape bite. He lays silent waiting for a time to find an escape. He hides in the library reads about the world and all the places he will go all the things he will do once he finds a way out 

Hel is the youngest.

She puts on a mask so beautiful that even her father, the king of lies, cannot see through it. Her flesh a rosy blushing pink, her mind decaying and dead. Attention is what she craves. She harvests friends and followers like a farmer does his crop. 

 Trapped behind schoolwork, smothered in clubs, struggling with jobs to get away from their temporary homes (they’ve been trapped in forever) for a little bit longer.  

One family torn apart by circumstance drawn together by blood and blood only, pray to someday fulfil their true potential, never knowing if they’ll reach it.