As the small town of Dirtmouth came into view, Arren saw a familiar sight, one that so surprised him, he tilted his head and gasped. Arren was the former prince of Hallownest, a kingdom of insects that had fallen into ruin ten years prior. For those ten years, he had been a protector of sorts, while also training a possible replacement for his sibling, the Hollow Knight, or Hollow as Arren called him, who was designated to serve as the one to absorb and contain the infection that brought the kingdom down. But, when his pupil tragically perished fighting infected warriors, he had lost all hope.

That hope had been reignited several weeks ago by the appearance of a young knight, whom Arren already knew was one of his siblings. They had adventured through the remains of the kingdom, fighting infected, saving other bugs, and trying to discover the secret to ending the infection once and for all. But, despite seeing some of the strangest things he thought he'd ever see, like a giant slug, an infuriatingly incompetent adventurer called Zote, and a strange arena of gladiators, today was absolutely weird. He remembered the previous events of the day, vividly.

While they had been exploring the howling cliffs, at the edge of the kingdom, they encountered a cave with a large fire pit in it. Further in the cave, they found a dead bug with an elaborate mask and strange clothing.

"What the heck do you think this is?" he asked the knight, who he had now liked to call "Ghost." Ghost shrugged, looking up at Arren with curiosity. Now, Arren noticed a strange red glow that seemed to emanate from behind him. He turned, seeing that the fire pit now had many glowing embers. "What the..." he said, reaching for the nail on his back. Ghost, brandishing his nail, poked the embers. "Be care-" Arren started, but was abruptly stopped by the embers instantly growing into a roaring red blaze, causing Ghost to jump back in alarm. The crimson flames gave a baleful roar as they grew, and nearby torches burst into the same kind of flame. Then, just as abruptly as they began, they died into mere smoke.

Arren didn't say anything, just stared in shock at the strange occurrence. He looked at Ghost, who looked back, but suddenly, alarmedly waved his arms and pointed at Arren. He looked at his back and saw that the edge of his cloak was on fire. Panicked, he franticly fumbled to remove his cloak, and heard the click of the snap as he unfastened it. The cloak was consumed into flame as it fell to the ground, Arren leaping away from it. Suddenly, the walls of the cave began to rumble and crack apart with frightening speed. "Oh crud, move!" he shouted, sprinting out the mouth of the cave with Ghost, as the roof of the cave collapsed. Sighing in relief, he asked, "You good?" Ghost nodded, with a surprising amount of emotion shown on their blank face.

That had happened a mere thirty minutes ago, and now Arren saw a pair of tents that had the visages of ghosts, white, black, and red, with a crimson glow emanating from openings in the tents. He remembered these tents from eleven years ago when he and Hollow had once encountered a group called the Grimm Troupe: a traveling band of individuals that seemed to have the air of a dark mirror of a traveling circus.

Approaching the main, ghastly tent, he peered inside, hearing and seeing a brawny bug playing the accordion. As he entered, the bug said no words, but Arren remembered this guy to be Brumm, the musician of the Grimm Troupe. His suspicions were now confirmed, the Grimm Troupe really was back in the kingdom. 'I guess I have to give him the bad news,' he thought. He and Ghost walked on, entering a large, clear area in the tent, with deep red curtains in several corners of the room. Then, the accordion music crescendoed, and a large puff of cardinal smoke appeared. In its wake appeared... 'Grimm?!' Arren thought.

Yes, it was certainly him, he had the same face, with the top of his head ending in two pitch-black points, and his face being a pale white, with black stripes over his crimson eyes. He was about as tall as Arren and wore a dark grey cloak that he knew was actually a set of wings, that had a collar that ended in many pointed strips of the same material as his cloak.

"Ahh, Arren my old friend!" Grimm said in delight, his heavy accent combing funnily with his breathy voice. Ghost looked up, tilting their head in confusion.

"It's good to see you, Grimm," Arren said. "I see that we were successful all those years ago?"

"Well, I'd say we were," Grimm replied, "seeing as I became the master of the Troupe." All those years ago, Hollow, Arren, and Grimm had gone on a grand series of adventures, culminating in Grimm gaining great power and supplanting his father as Master of the Grimm Troupe. During that time, Hollow and Grimm had grown close, in what Arren assumed to be a sibling-like friendship. Grimm and his troupe left the day after Grimm became master of the troupe, through a process none of them truly understood. But, since Grimm had left a year before Hollow performed what he had always called his duty...

"Grimm, I have some bad news..." Arren started, unable to finish the sentence.

"Hollow did it, didn't they?" Grimm said, sighing slightly.

"What?"

"They told me when I was about to leave, that they were going to have to contain the dreaded pestilence, and that I may never see them again." Arren just nodded.

"Wait a minute, how did they tell you, they're mute?"

"They wrote it on the silken paper common to this kingdom," Grimm said. "Hollow was ever the poet, If I may say," he gave a bittersweet chuckle. A few moments passed in silence. Then, Grimm shook his head, and asked, "Anyway, who's the young one?"

"This is Ghost, my and Hollow's sibling." Grimm's eyes widened at this but he said nothing, and opened his cloak, revealing a young bug with a face similar to Grimm's.

Arren chuckled, slightly, saying, "So, you're a father? Nice." The kid approached Ghost, who waved his hand at the young bug in greeting.

"She's why I'm here," Grimm said. "I need your help with performing the ritual again. It's time for my daughter to grow and begin preparing to be the new leader of the troupe." Arren didn't know what to say, though he was expecting this as much as he was surprised. In the ritual of the troupe, the child of the troupe master would be taught how to fight, grow, and gain strength through the power of the essence of nightmares themselves.

"But won't it-" Arren started.

"Possibly kill me," Grimm cut him off, "yes, but as they say, all things come to an end." Grimm had always had a wry, fatalistic edge in his personality. "You know what you must do: You need to face the Grimmkin novices and masters and strike them down in the great dance of battle, and help bring my child to the state I am in, now. Can you do that for me, old friend?" Arren Looked at Ghost and Grimm's daughter, playing with good joy. He didn't say a word, he just nodded. "Thank you, my friend," he hugged Arren, briefly, "and may luck be with you."

Arren walked up to Ghost and... "By the way, what's her name?" Arren asked.

"Her name is, uh, Grimmy," Grimm said, looking kind of embarrassed. When Arren looked at him, questioningly, Grimm elaborated, saying, "It's tradition to have the Grimm name in the children of my family, and Grimmy was the best name I could come up with for her."

Chuckling a bit, Arren said, "Ghost, Grimmy, let's go. We have an adventure upon us." And so they left to start this new quest.