Detective Isaac Grimm growing up in hollow his father had always told him stories about dark things that lived in the shadows, and he had quickly dismissed it as 'Old Wives Tales'. But Grimm didn't believe in ghost stories at least not anymore, Not after what happened to his partner two years ago. Back then, he thought the world operated on logic patterns that could be unravelled. That was until the night he watched something impossible tear about the only person he trusted.

GRIMM AND HOLLOW

The dawn brought no solace. Hollow remained steeped in its eerie quiet, the kind that made even birds hesitant to sing. The storm had passed, but the air was heavier than ever, as if the town itself was holding its breath. 


Isaac Grimm stood at his window, watching the muted world outside. He had barely slept. His reflection in the cracked mirror was unchanged from the night before—hollow-eyed, pale, with dark veins pulsing faintly beneath his skin. His face bore the weight of a broken soul, yet his hands trembled not with fear but with the yearning of something darker. 


His hand still gripped the dagger. He hadn't let it go all night, its weight a tether to the thing he was becoming. Or perhaps the thing he had already become. 


The knock at his door was soft, hesitant. 


Isaac turned sharply, his senses heightened in ways they hadn't been before. He could hear the faint heartbeat of whoever stood on the other side, their breath shallow and quick. 


First Kill