GRIMM AND HOLLOW

The Forgotten Abyss lay beneath Hollow, a cavernous expanse carved by time and forgotten by man. The air was suffocating, thick with the weight of ancient secrets. Isaac descended into the darkness, the only light coming from the faint glow of the dagger at his side. Each step echoed off unseen walls, the sound swallowed by the oppressive silence.

The path was treacherous, the ground uneven and slick with moisture. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like jagged teeth, and pools of black water dotted the cavern floor. Isaac’s breath was steady, his senses sharp. Ravok was here. He could feel it.

A faint tremor rippled through the ground, followed by a low, guttural growl that seemed to come from everywhere at once. Isaac gripped the dagger tightly, his pulse quickening.

“Come out,” he said, his voice firm.

The growl deepened, a rumble that vibrated in his chest. Then, out of the shadows, Ravok emerged.

The creature was enormous, its body a twisted mass of muscle and spines. Its glowing eyes burned with an intensity that made Isaac’s stomach churn. The air around it shimmered, distorted by its sheer presence. Each step it took sent ripples through the ground, as though the earth itself feared its weight.

“You are brave, Guardian,” Ravok said, its voice a thunderous boom. “Or perhaps foolish.”

Isaac raised the dagger, its glow intensifying. “I’ve faced your kind before. You won’t be the last.”

Ravok chuckled, a sound like grinding stone. “And yet you carry their essence within you. Each victory stains your soul.”

Isaac ignored the taunt, stepping forward. “I didn’t come here for a philosophy lesson.”

Ravok’s grin widened, revealing rows of jagged teeth. “Very well. Let us see how far your resolve will carry you.”

The creature moved with terrifying speed, its massive form belied by its agility. Isaac barely had time to dodge as one of Ravok’s spiked limbs slammed into the ground where he had stood, shattering the stone into fragments.

He rolled to his feet, the dagger slashing out in a wide arc. The blade connected with Ravok’s side, leaving a glowing wound that oozed black ichor. The creature roared in pain, but the injury only seemed to enrage it.

Ravok lashed out again, its spines elongating into razor-sharp tendrils that whipped through the air. Isaac ducked and weaved, each movement precise, his focus unyielding.

But Ravok was relentless. Its attacks were unpredictable, its sheer size making it impossible to avoid every strike. One of the tendrils caught Isaac’s arm, tearing through his coat and slicing into his flesh. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain, and pressed forward.

“You fight well, Guardian,” Ravok said, its voice laced with amusement. “But strength alone will not save you.”

The air around Isaac began to shift, the darkness growing thicker, more oppressive. He felt a pressure in his chest, as though the cavern itself was closing in on him.

Ravok’s eyes glowed brighter, and Isaac’s vision blurred. He stumbled, his mind suddenly filled with images—his worst fears brought to life.

He saw Hollow consumed by darkness, its people twisted into monstrous forms. He saw Avara, her face contorted in agony as she reached for him, only to be swallowed by shadows. He saw himself, standing alone in the void, his hands stained with blood.

“You cannot win,” Ravok whispered, its voice echoing in his mind. “You are nothing but a pawn, a tool to be discarded.”

Isaac fell to his knees, the weight of the visions crushing him. The dagger slipped from his grasp, its light dimming.

But then, in the depths of his despair, he heard a voice.

“Isaac.”

It was faint, barely more than a whisper, but it cut through the darkness like a blade. He recognized it—Avara’s voice.

“You’re stronger than this.”

Isaac’s eyes snapped open, his grip tightening around the dagger. The glow returned, brighter than before, its warmth driving back the shadows.

“No,” he said, his voice steady. “You don’t get to decide my fate.”

He rose to his feet, the dagger blazing like a beacon in the darkness. Ravok recoiled, its confidence faltering.

“This ends now,” Isaac said, his resolve unshaken.

He charged, the dagger cutting through Ravok’s tendrils with ease. Each strike sent waves of light through the creature’s body, its form flickering as the essence of its power began to unravel.

Ravok roared, a sound of desperation and fury. It lashed out with everything it had, but Isaac was relentless. He leapt onto the creature’s back, driving the dagger into the base of its skull.

The cavern trembled as Ravok let out a final, ear-splitting scream. Its body convulsed, the spines retracting as its form collapsed into a heap of black ichor.

Isaac stood over the remains, his chest heaving. The dagger pulsed in his hand, the ichor seeping into the blade, its glow now darker, more intense.

Five down.

---

Back at the church, Sister Amara watched as Isaac placed the dagger on the altar. The air around him seemed heavier, the darkness within him more pronounced.

“Ravok is gone,” he said, his voice weary.

Amara nodded, her expression somber. “You’re nearing the end,” she said. “But the cost…”

Isaac met her gaze, his eyes hard. “I know the cost.”

Amara hesitated, then opened the tome once more. The image of the next creature sent a chill through Isaac’s blood.

This one was formless, a mass of shifting darkness with countless eyes and mouths. Beneath the illustration was a single word: Umbrelis.

“It is the keeper of the void,” Amara said. “A creature of pure chaos. It will test not just your strength or resolve, but your very identity.”

Isaac took a deep breath, the weight of his mission pressing down on him. “Where do I find it?”

Amara’s gaze was grave. “The Forgotten Spire. It is a place where the veil between worlds is thinnest. Umbrelis exists between realities, feeding on the fragments of what could have been.”

Isaac nodded, his jaw set. “Then that’s where I’ll go.”

Amara reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “Be careful, Isaac. The closer you get to breaking the pact, the closer you come to becoming one of them.”

Isaac turned toward the door, the dagger at his side. “I’m not done yet.”

Amara watched him go, her heart heavy with the weight of what was to come. The final battles were approaching, and with them, the fate of Hollow—and Isaac himself—would be decided.