GRIMM AND HOLLOW

The forest was unnaturally quiet as Isaac walked through the underbrush. The moonlight barely pierced the canopy, casting long, jagged shadows on the forest floor. Each step seemed to echo louder than it should, the sound swallowed by the oppressive silence. The dagger hung at his side, its weight a constant reminder of the battles he’d already fought and the ones yet to come.

Lamentis awaited him at the edge of the forest in an ancient graveyard, where sorrow and despair hung thick in the air.

Isaac paused as he approached a rusted iron gate, its hinges squealing as he pushed it open. The graveyard stretched before him, rows of crooked headstones leaning like tired sentinels. Fog rolled across the ground, swirling around his boots as he stepped onto the damp earth.

A faint whisper reached his ears, carried on the wind. It wasn’t a language he understood, but the pain and despair in the tone were unmistakable.

“You have come,” a voice rasped, low and hollow, as if the earth itself had spoken.

Isaac froze, his hand tightening around the hilt of the dagger. A figure emerged from the shadows, draped in chains that clinked softly as it moved. Lamentis was skeletal, its flesh stretched taut over brittle bones. The chains wrapped around its body writhed like living things, the ends tipped with sharp, jagged hooks. Its empty eye sockets burned with a cold, unnatural light.

“Lamentis,” Isaac said, his voice steady.

The creature tilted its head, the chains rattling with the motion. “Guardian,” it replied, the word dripping with disdain. “You carry their blood. You carry their pain.”

Isaac stepped closer, the dagger glinting in the faint moonlight. “I carry their end.”

Lamentis laughed, a sound like grinding stone. “You cannot end what you are becoming. Each battle draws you closer to us. Each victory chains you to our fate.”

Isaac gritted his teeth, forcing the creature’s words to the back of his mind. He couldn’t afford doubt—not now.

“Enough talk,” he said, lunging forward.

The dagger slashed through the air, aimed for Lamentis’s chest. But the creature moved with unnatural speed, the chains snapping out like serpents. One coiled around Isaac’s wrist, yanking him off balance.

“You think you can fight despair with steel?” Lamentis hissed, tightening the chain. “You cannot cut what you cannot see.”

Isaac struggled against the chain, his free hand gripping the dagger. The chain burned where it touched his skin, the pain searing into his mind. Images flashed before his eyes—his failures, his fears, every moment of doubt he’d ever felt magnified tenfold.

He saw Avara’s lifeless body, the betrayal in his partner’s eyes, the emptiness that had consumed him after his father’s death. The weight of it all threatened to crush him, to drag him down into the darkness.

“You are nothing,” Lamentis whispered, its voice filling his mind. “Just another soul consumed by sorrow.”

“No,” Isaac growled, his voice low and fierce.

The bloodlust stirred within him, a fire that burned away the despair. He could feel the darkness in his veins, not as a burden, but as a weapon. He let it surge, his strength returning as he yanked the chain free.

Lamentis recoiled, the chains retreating like wounded animals. “You embrace the darkness?” it hissed. “Foolish mortal. You will drown in it.”

Isaac didn’t respond. He charged, the dagger glowing with a faint, golden light. The blade slashed through the chains, severing them one by one. Each cut released a burst of black smoke, the fragments of the creature’s power dissipating into the air.

Lamentis screamed, the sound shaking the ground beneath them. It lashed out with its remaining chains, but Isaac was faster. He dodged the attack, driving the dagger into the creature’s chest.

The blade sank deep, the glow intensifying as it consumed Lamentis’s essence. The chains fell limp, clattering to the ground as the creature let out a final, anguished wail. Its body crumbled to ash, the light in its eyes fading to darkness.

Isaac stood over the remains, his chest heaving. The ichor on the dagger pulsed, brighter and more insistent than before.

Four down.

---

The journey back to the church was grueling. The battle had taken more out of Isaac than he cared to admit. His body ached, his mind heavy with the weight of what he’d seen.

Sister Amara was waiting for him at the altar, her expression grim. She said nothing as he placed the dagger on the table, the blade now darkened with the essence of four creatures.

“It’s done,” Isaac said, his voice hoarse.

Amara nodded, her eyes scanning his face. “You’ve grown stronger,” she said. “But so has the pact.”

Isaac met her gaze, his jaw tightening. “What’s next?”

Amara opened the tome, revealing an image of a creature that sent a shiver down Isaac’s spine. This one was massive, its body covered in jagged spines, its eyes glowing like twin suns. Beneath the illustration was a single word: Ravok.

“It dwells in the Forgotten Abyss,” Amara said. “A place where light has never touched. Ravok thrives on fear, feeding on the terror of its victims.”

Isaac’s hands clenched into fists. “I’ve faced fear before.”

Amara placed a hand on his arm, her grip firm. “Not like this. Ravok’s power lies in its ability to make you question everything. Your strength, your purpose—your very existence.”

Isaac nodded, his resolve unshaken. “Then I’ll face it.”

Amara hesitated, her expression troubled. “Be careful, Isaac. Each creature you defeat brings you closer to breaking the pact. But it also brings you closer to becoming one of them.”

Isaac turned to leave, the dagger at his side. “If that’s the price of stopping this, so be it.”

Amara watched him go, her heart heavy. The battle was far from over, and the shadows were closing in.