Grim Tales Novels & Stories

“You know, because most of your murals depict wolves. I mean, you’re obviously the most fascinated with them. Right?” His eyes squinted as if he had to think that one through. Then he finally told me, “No, all my pictures depict fairy-tale stories, and most fairy tales just happen to have wolves in them, so you need to ask the Brothers Grimm or Charles Perrault why they had such a fascination with wolves. Not me.” “Wolves mate for life, you know,” I said, the words spilling from my lips like vomit. But oh my God, why had I just blurted that out there?

The halls stretched into endless gray stone, the lights flickering before dying completely. Behind me— Thump. Thump. Thump. I turned. Grimmer stood there. But he wasn’t human anymore. He towered over me, his coat moving like smoke, his face a hollow mask of shadow. His eyes burned like embers. "You can’t hide what you are, Elara," he rasped. "The safe is open. The key is turning." Then he moved. Fast. Wrong. Inhuman. Closing the distance in seconds. I tried to scream—but my throat filled with dust. His claw-like hand reached for me—

“Of all the people I expected to see in the middle of the apocalypse, you were… actually pretty high on the list. Not gonna lie.” His smile widened sharply and ugly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” “Don’t,” I shot back immediately. “It’s not.” Grimlow’s eyes flicked over me then to Ashley, Lucius and finally Martha, like he was assessing value, calculating something in that twisted little brain of his. “What you’re witnessing,” he said, his voice almost proud now, “is my masterpiece. My creation. My genius finally realized.” I let out a short laugh, shaking my head.

At least far more interesting than the story I heard yesterday at the antique auction, is this one, I thought. I became uneasy when he described how two werewolves broke their fated mate promise and unleashed a terrible calamity. The narrative was too visceral and realistic. Every time I hear the story, it seems to tighten my heart, so I don't want to listen to it anymore. It felt odd, as though I had also lived through the same narrative. She continued, "And it all began with the Grimoire." "Grimoire?" I asked, intrigued. This Grimoire seemed to be at the center of all the odd occurrences.

Every time I saw the hope in her eyes for her father, my resentment towards Alfred grew. How could he just throw away such a precious little girl? To get Alfred out of my head, I dove back into the career I adored. I used to be a comic artist, and I had a pretty solid reputation in the comic scene. However, I was doxxed, and my private info got blasted all over the internet. They discovered that I was the bride who was jilted at the wedding. My scandalous video was once again circulating online, causing widespread ridicule towards me and the Hawkins family.

The other leaders looked at him with varying degrees of annoyance. “This isn’t a joke,” Grim said, his voice low, still holding down his rage. “I’ve seen the bodies. I’ve seen the aftermath. And I’m telling you, this thing is real. It’s not a ghost, it’s not a rogue wolf, and it’s certainly not a fairy tale. It’s a threat. And if you don’t believe me, then we’ll all be paying the price sooner than you think.” The room fell into a tense silence. No one spoke for a long moment. Alistair stood again, his old eyes fixed on Grim.

The illustration looked like a horrible, drooling, sharp-toothed, yellow-eyed demon, with gray skin, a thick matted beard, and towered over the scribbled trees. The written information read:+ "The Northern Grays are rare, immense giants that reside in the dense forests of the northern regions. They stand taller than most trees and are arguably the most powerful, dangerous beasts that roam the world. An excellent sense of smell allows them to find their prey. They will eat anything that is smaller than them and are particularly fond of the taste of children and young maidens. Solitary, territorial, unintelligent, brutish, and carnivorous. NEVER approach." Twillow peeked over the parchment at

the girl in pigtails explained. "About three thousand people died in that town because of the sudden calamity. The military forces are trying to figure out their purpose for going that far as summoning a tidal wave, forcing the flow of nature against it's own. But we've heard...," she said and leaned towards Iktanne's ear and whispered, "... we've heard a few days ago in the library from the proctors that the Giants were collecting gold and souls from the normals. They said that there was an insignia left on the shores of the north... which might cause a great trouble because it links back here in the Academy and the Empire."

Tawny adds with a laugh. A heavy hand falls on my shoulder and I look up at Mathias, gods I feel like a weak child standing next to the giant. “So Crimson, tell me more about yourself.” “What do you want to know?” “Everything,” He replies dramatically. “Unfortunately, there is not much more we know about Grimalkins,” Comes Tristan as he falls into stride alongside us. “In Andora, there was a small section, but most of the information on Grimalkins and Skinwalkers was all hearsay. Folklore. Even my personal library back home, couldn’t give us any more than we learned. The best option to know more - is to go back to Tolba.”

“They fought like they had something to prove. Not mindless beasts looking for a fight—soldiers with a mission. Faster, stronger… coordinated. Like a pack.” Alexander’s golden eyes flickered. “Did you see him?” Liam snorted, kicking at the dirt. “If by ‘the ominous him,’ you mean GrimMaw, then no. If you meant some other mysterious him, I’m gonna need details. Maybe a sketch? A last known address?” Alexander sighed. “GrimMaw, Liam.” “Right, right. No, I didn’t see him.” Liam rubbed his neck. “Which honestly makes me more nervous. It’s like knowing there’s a spider in your room but not being able to find it. I hated that guy—always an ass when we were kids.”