“Welcome to the midnight hour, little owls.”
[Malakai Midnight sits at a table in a room lit by a singular candle. Before him rests a leatherback book with a handwritten tale inside.]
“I’d like to tell you a grim tale.”
[He smiles, reading carefully.]
“He was just a kid when they gave him the music box. A small, wooden thing with little carvings on the sides, delicate like a secret. Be careful, they said. Every time you wind it, something terrible happens.
But what did that even mean to a boy? He was too young to understand words like ‘consequence.’ So, one day, when he was sad, he wound it up. The tune was sweet, simple, like a lullaby. And… nothing happened. No storms, no fires, no monsters. No one screamed or cried. The boy smiled, feeling silly for being scared.
So, whenever he felt sad, he’d wind the box. It was comforting, like a friend who always knew what to say. He never noticed the small things—the dog down the street that disappeared, the house that burned miles away. Those were just things that happened in life, weren’t they?
Until the day it wasn’t. Until the day he wound the box, played the tune, and watched someone he loved fall, right there in front of him.
The music didn’t sound sweet anymore. It twisted in his ears, a cruel, mocking thing. And suddenly, he knew. He understood what he’d been doing all along. He hadn’t been innocent—He’d been blind. Every time he played that tune, something terrible had happened, after all. Only now, he could see it. The music had died, but worse than that—it had taken part of him with it.”
[Malakai closes the book and looks into the camera.]
“How many times have you spun the handle of the music box you call life and listened to the tune, El Mariachi Muerte? You listened intently as Vida perished at your own hands. You listened closely when Dr. Death betrayed you and every time, you’ve returned to where you think you’re safe; the music.”
[He scoffs.]
“But every time you turn that handle, something terrible happens, doesn’t it? Every time you go back to music, you place yourself back into a position of pain. You’ve done it again with Apokalypsis, then with your actions towards Drewitt and Grimskull…
..And lest us not forget Gemini and the lies you’ve spun her.”
[Malakai tuts.]
“Every time you’ve played that tune, you’ve ignored the consequences. It hasn’t mattered what terrible act has befallen you or those around you, you always go back to music and you always listen once again to that same old song and dance.
But when you turn the handle this week at Grimm Tales, a new danger awaits…
Malakai Midnight, little owl.”
[He looks at the candle and blows it out.]
“But don’t worry, we’ll have a hoot.”