The lights twinkle in the sky, their brightness marred by the veil of smoke that drifts from the nest. Another night of terror, another night of paltry resistance and battle. Another night with a Dustlings flesh between my teeth. One of countless others to have passed, and the herald of others to come.
We came to this settlement, drawn by their hatred and fear. The smart ones fled at the first sign of us, some escaped, some did not. Those who stayed fell to our teeth and claws and power. Some of us fall as well, though it matters little in the long run, for our numbers are only matched by our hatred. And death is only an inconvenience for us. They scream in terror, they fight with anything at hand and to those who die slowly scream all the louder. They beg to know why, why this happened to them, why do we do this, why we hunt and slaughter them. It is simple I growl in their faces as I rip out their throats. We are the Grimm, and you are a disease.
Once for as long as time has flowed there was only darkness and we rested within it. Fools believe the light and darkness was created by others, in competition with each other but we have always been here, slumbering in blessed ignorance. We were content to sleep under the cold embrace of our gentle Mother, time and space and light simply passing by in the blink of an eye.
In time, we began to take form and shape, and from where we rested we became aware as the first beings of light came into existence. For a moment, we were awakened, and fear of the unknown filled us, but our mother trembled us back to sleep. We watched with newly formed eyes as the animals were born. They took many forms, some of graceful beauty while others of stunning brutality, but in all they had they're place. The balance was created, not so different from our own. Our Mother was pleased and we returned to nothing.
Time passed again and our next awakening was to a rumbling of the earth. New life had come to our mother, from where we do not know. Perhaps another mother who they had abandoned, or perhaps from the Mothers only silver friend, tearing it apart and forming from its corpse. Mother called them humans, we referred to them as Dustlings.
They came to this world broken, scattered, seeking refuge from the cold dark of the sky. We feared their entry and beseeched Mother to send them away. But she had come to love the creatures of light and welcomed these new ones to her bosom. Out of respect we abided her wishes and began to drift once more.
These Dustlings were different than the other creatures who'd come before. Where others merely survived, they began to thrive. Though not as fast or quick as some, they were clever and began to spread across this world. They hunted, they built, they were the first of their kind to build. Villages and towns fields of grain, new alien life abounded across her skin, shone like a fire. It pained us, and though we did not know then it is where our hatred began to form. But we stayed below, for Mother delighted in their light, in their creation. It was her greatest joy and also her greatest folly.
For the Dustlings cleverness was only matched by their ambition. Not satisfied with the generous gift of a home and family, they continued to want more. They expanded, their numbers grew and as they did Mother was blinded by their light. Blinded as the other lights went out. They killed those who once shred our mother, shared in her bounty. They created more towns, built more creation and destroyed more life. Yet their hunger, their greed only grew more ravenous by the day
And we could not sleep, the terror of the other lights soon began to reach our ears and to sharpen our senses, our resolve and our form. Before the Dustlings we did not understand that all life is symbiotic. Some is our irrational, some are driven by more than mere survival. Never content always consuming more. Back then we only saw it as an abomination. Now we know it to be plague.
Then they began to dig and Mother screamed in agony.
They had spread quickly, consumed and taken all they could from the surface. They believed they owned this world, and were owed both above and below this world which they had dubbed Remnant. Perhaps because that is all they would leave behind. Mother yelled in pain and terror, begged them to stop. She had no mouth but her body shook in defiance. She still loved them, loved them even as they sought to kill her. She knew what would happen if they reached us, could feel our fury. But her warnings were unheeded. They dug deeper and deeper as her skin and bones gave way, harvesting what they wished and tossing aside all else they deemed unworthy. They dug for riches, they dug for power. They expected to find riches.
They found us instead. As the drills bore deep we could ignore them no longer, no longer ignore the threat they posed. Unchecked the would be the death of this world, the death of our mother. We would be theirs instead.
Formless and from every hole and crack we arose, fury and teeth ripping them apart. They attempted to fight us, sent their armies against us. And though they were successful initially we learned and we adapted. Our forms twisted into the shape of those they butchered and one by one their nest fell to our hatred. They even tried sending other beings of light against us. Those who ran from us we allowed to live. Those who chose to stand with their slavers died with them.
We tore their nests down, hunted them wherever we could find them. What intelligence they had was slowly lost as the surviving few reverted to a more basic form better equipped to survive the wild. Soon we had culled them to their original numbers when they had first blighted this world. If we'd had our way, we would have culled them back to nothing.
But alas a being of light arose from their ranks, his soul unlocked by Mother herself, the first of his kind. He saved them for her, for even after their atrocities she loved them still. They fought back and from the ashes they formed their nests again, though they are but a shadow of what they once were. Yet they are short lived creatures, well most of them are. And what lessons they had once learned they had in time forgotten, and thus they begin the cycle of death anew.
We will die before we allow this to pass. If the Dustlings have taught us one thing, it is the importance of ambition. Mother bade us to return to her embrace, to return to silence once again. And we will, once we have finished what we began. Mother believes herself cured, she is wrong. The disease is merely dormant, waiting for the day when it can become active once more. To reap and rip her apart in their self-destructive desire. A sister of ours sees this, and even now leads us to the blessed quiet and salvation. Should she fall and return to the void, another will be chosen to take her place. All this we do for our Mother. We will cure her of this blight, even if she should grow to hate us for it. For we love her, and her death will be ours.
So another Dustling asks again as my current form rips out her throat why? Why do we hunt humans? It is because you are disgusting, pretending to hold full domino over the land and the sky and the stars. Acting with a false sense of superiority. You are the worst blight that has ever ravaged this world. Destroying in your path, consuming every beautiful thing in existence only to move to the next place, to do it all over again. You kill and hunt for sport, you obliterate the homes of other creatures so you can build shopping mall. Well we are going to show that you are not the top of the food chain, not anymore. So send your armies, send your hunters with their bright souls and false bravado. Your so-called victories will only delay the inevitable. Individual death after all is not the end for us, rather it is merely a chance to rest. Time, which you will always seek will betray you in the end, you are short lived and short sighted and we will win.
For we are the Grimm, and we will be your death.