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Malachi was not always what history would later remember.
He was a Morlock Historian-respected, disciplined, and entrusted with preserving the truth of a world buried beneath stone and shadow.
A world balanced uneasily against the surface-dwelling Eloi.
But something began to change.
An insidious condition started to fracture thought, memory, and identity across the subterranean depths.
Moments lost, Words forgotten,
Minds slipping into something unrecognizable.
And then... it reached his daughter.
What followed was not recorded as it was lived.
Fragments remain-of desperate choices, forbidden discoveries, and a path that would carry Malachi far beyond his own time...
and far beyond the man he once was.
There are those who remember him as a Historian.
There are those who know what he became.
But history itself is not always truth.
And some truths are not meant to be remembered.
This is not the story of a monster.
This is the story of how one was made.
This... is the Hollow.
And this is where time itself becomes... distorted.