Chapter Eleven: Shadows and Moonlight

         The smell of rotten wood— I had almost forgotten the permeating stench of this forgotten bog. The remnants of homes, whole communities that lay fetid and stinking here only serve to make the foulness even more pronounced. The ichorous sounds of gruesome snake creatures, beings that pass for men or… heaven forbid, once were men, come to prominence in this deeper section of the forest. Along with it, I can hear utterances distinctly porcine.  Is this where that beast came from, the creature that devours innocence?  If so—if whoever created this wood is responsible—then they will have to answer to my ax and me. Until then, forward, forward as you have gone for so long. The shadows of night only lengthen, and dawn does not come to those who dawdle.          -H

          Through traps and beasts, dogs and cannon fire, I have made my way to the second windmill that serves as a landmark in this place. Above me I can hear the gnashing of teeth and rending of flesh—some great creature is struggling above me. Below, the smells of decay become even more pronounced and have begun to mix with the slightest whiff of ozone. I recall the creature that Iosefka became and in reading my prior entry I find myself at a loss for words now as I did then. What world must this be where such monstrosities are possible? I can only guess at the realm of dreams and the thin divide between reality and a madman’s nightmare. Surely, surely the real world cannot house my misty life back home with my son and husband but also this windmill full of blood and secrets? It cannot be. At any rate I cannot discern my next trajectory and so I will ascend the windmill to find a vantage point. Perhaps the beast above me will offer directions… or maybe it is yet another mad Hunter, lost in wakefulness. Djura.          -H

          I am not sure what I expected, but of course the grizzly man covered in the blood of his comrades, with gore ‘neath his fingernails, was a beast in disguise. That, I am not surprised by. What did shock me was… well, the shock, if you’ll pardon me. This man had discovered a way into the secrets of the Darkbeasts, that strange brand of creature I found deep in the Hypogean Gaol’s belly. A skeletal beast that harnessed lightning. So too did this madman find protection amidst the elements, and, like his counterpart, I dispatched him with utmost care and efficiency. I did not languish in his gore as I did with the Darkbeast, however. His blood was thick and congealed, as though he could only just manage to contain the raw energies of the Darkbeast’s blue light. Still, his echoes served me well and I feel the slightest tingling of power within them. Perhaps there is a road to walk that leads me to this same house of lightning and wind.  It did afford him power... and yet… he, too, like all the rest, called me a monster. An animal. Yet he was the murderer! The pulverized skeletons, all too small and familiar, are evidence of this. How can he possibly call me a monster? Hunters serve a purpose. We must, for we have the protection of the dream. Yet, when I wake anew, I sometimes feel as though in another time, another place, the people I slew are wrenched from death as I was; back to life, to Yharnam. To the Hunt.          I see that this forest leads down into a basin, and from there I can see, far in the distance, a manor house. And the moon hangs overhead.          -H

         I have made the descent with relatively little trouble. The smell of ozone has become close to unbearable, and I have found what I believe to be the source: those blue creatures have found their way into the basin. They seem to have been here for a while, at least I assume so. Several of them have grown tendrils about their bulbous heads, like a fungus searching for food. Now that I have dispatched them, the smell is less, but only just. It is certain that with each step forward I come closer to the truth, and it is clear to me that this truth is something to steel myself against, not something to embrace. What lies in the manor of Byrgenwerth, the academy that sought high knowledge? Whatever I find there, I must remember that my goal is the blood—the Paleblood that will transcend the curse of beasts and return my life to me.          The sound of pigs and snakes conjure such strange images in my mind, but they are the natural dwellers of this place. I am the trespasser, a thief in the night. I must be swift and deadly if I am to make it out of here alive… if I can even be counted among the living in this waking nightmare.          -H

          The pigs are dead. As are the snakes. The forest is quiet where I stand, eerily so.  The last fight has left me winded, and so I rest against one of the thousands of gravestones that lie near a pavilion so covered in bones that it seems to be strange, brittle lichen that grows here naturally. That is the danger of this place, of Yharnam and the forest alike. The atrocities I endure and commit are unending, so numerous that I cannot help but think of them as normal. I can see a dull fog has spread through the triangular opening to this clearing, and the massive gravestone that stands erect there serves as a harbinger of someone’s demise. When—if—I leave Yharnam, my secret… will I escape with my soul? Or will it remain here as a Hunter, bound to the Dream like so many others?          -H

          Absolution! The battle was fierce and wild as the animals I fought. Were they animals? Beasts or men, they moved like none I had ever seen. Three cloaked figures emerged from the whispering fog and approached me with slow determination. One had a scimitar, one a strangely curved longsword, and the last a mace. That last figure also wielded flames as one born to the power. They fought with coordination and confidence—after all, it was three against one. Back when I fought against the demons, my battalion used similar tactics and felled foes far stronger than we. However, that was before Yharnam and the blood. I am a different woman now than I was then, and am much stronger for it. I made clever use of calculated retreats and my axe’s length to undermine what advantages they had in sheer numbers. As well, the environment came to my aid as the tombstones that surrounded the area served well as shields against fire.          I quickly dispatched one of these shadows and saw with satisfaction that they cowered in pain. I thought that I had struck them all a mortal blow, but then I saw then what these creatures truly were.          Snakes.          Humanoid shapes composed entirely of serpents. Their disguise uncovered, the shadows took advantage of superior reach and nearly overwhelmed me. However, I was too clever, and managed to take down the second of the three. Then only one remained: the mace wielder. It was the weakest of the three and I considered it the least worth my attention during the battle, but now that it was one on one, it kneeled as though in prayer. Realizing almost too late the ramifications of this, I ran. I could feel the cold, sanguine breath of an enormous snake against the back of my neck and I turned quickly, ducking under the manifestation. I pulled my axe to bear and sliced the final shadow in two. And the Hunt was over.          Oh my secret, I wish you could hear me! My jubilation echoes here and my laughter returns to me as a wild howl of victory. It is barely recognizable as human, but it is not beast either. I am a Hunter, and I have hunted! Nothing bars my way to Byrgenwerth now. I can see the moon overhead and the sky as blue as the ocean. At last, answers! At last, an end to this nightmare. At last, a final spray of blood is all that stands in my way! At last… At last…          -H

          At last… the trees give way to open air, and my tears fall like rain against the turned cobblestones of the massive manor house of Byrgenwerth. Now that I am here… my secret, have I so lost myself in my journey that I will be unrecognizable when I return to my husband? Was the man from earlier, the man covered in gore from head to toe, the same as I? A simple man, searching for answers and a cure from the gods, who found only the Hunt, and the moon, and the Dream? Whatever answers I find here, I know now that I must face them. I am resolved, and the gates of Byrgenwerth are open.          -H

Chapter Ten: My Sweet Girls

         They are alive. Thank the saints, they are alive! All of them are safe, including the old woman and that despicable man. How grateful I am for his company now. I imagine I must have been quite a sight to my girls when I burst into the chapel as though hell itself was on my heels. I suppose it was, in a way.  I fled from the clinic all the way through central Yharnam, past the graveyard, and into the chapel through the hidden entrance. Nothing stood in my way; the few straggling beastmen that populate the streets fled from my countenance. They still call me beast… the poor fools are as mad as they are doomed. I must do what I can to end this plight soon, I must end this night forever. Arianna was ecstatic to see me, although I will admit I did lose my composure whilst checking her for wounds and for her general wellbeing. No, nothing has come into the chapel, no there have been no attempts by anyone to hurt her. All is well. Adella told much the same tale, although she did seem disappointed that I went to Arianna first. I think the pair must have some unpleasantness between them. I can see it in the way that Adella looks at Arianna while we speak, it is almost… pity? I cannot fathom the reason, but all that matters to me is that they are safe, alive, and sane. Thank the saints.         -H

         I have decided to put the safety of the city on hold for a few hours. I have been too long from my girls and they need me, Adella especially. Arianna can take care of herself, bless her, and has even once more offered me her blood. I accepted the offering; there is potency in the girl’s vitals that lends me a feeling of peace amid the storm. Adella, however, is another matter. She clings to me like a babe still fresh from the tit. It does make me feel young again to tend to the girls, it gives me something to fight for. Matthew, did you ever have sisters? They would be the age of these two by now, I am certain. Is it possible that they might have fled to Yharnam to help me just as I did for your father? Oh, my Secret, how my memory clouds when I think of home. Ah, but Arianna is so lovely.  For now, Adella has asked that I accompany her on a stroll, and I mean to give her one.         -H

         The poor girl must be so lonely. As we walked the now empty graveyards of the Cathedral Ward, Adella spoke so softly and clung to me so tightly. She spoke of apologies for deeds done in the past, people who she had hurt and lives she failed to save. I offered what comforts I could, for who better to redeem a murderer but one of their fellows? I am far from pure at this point, my very blood tainted by this place. Still, she accepted my communion willingly, albeit with the same strange fearfully apologetic look on her face. Adella is looking at me now, wondering what I must be writing I am sure. I still have told no one of you, my Secret, you should be proud of me. We stopped under the pretext of resting my limbs, ridiculous a notion as it is now. However, her bright blue gaze makes me shiver while it is upon me. I wish nothing more than for her happiness… but those eyes… I will go to her now.         -H

         She cries so… quietly… I could bear it if her misery was opaque, visible. But this, this I feel under the surface, like so much else in Yharnam. It is poisonous, this misery, and it eats at Adella. I can see it so clearly, why can she… Ah, but how we got there is another story. We were walking and she looked so… sad, that I suggested we sit down together against a tombstone. After a long silence Adella asked me of my life and I told her what I could… could remember that is. I told her of Matthew, of my husband, of the fog. The Demon’s Souls and the Soul Arts. My time as a Knight-Captain… that time in particular returned strongly when I searched for it. The weight of my axe keeping me balanced, the slick feel as it cleaved through demon’s flesh… and man’s. Saint Astraea and her protector. Adella seemed particularly drawn to that. She asked me if I would protect her? Of course I would. What a silly question. But still, she looked at me with doubt in her eyes, not as though I was incapable, but rather… as if I was unworthy.         I changed the subject, asking her of her own life before the Hunt and her… capture. She told me little, speaking briefly of her time as a priestess of the Healing Church as a blood minister. Do you know, I think I saw her smile as she thought of those days? I cannot begin to imagine a life where my worth was gauged by the purity of my blood but… well I suppose I can, now. My blood, however, is hardly pure. Adella knows this, I think. She can sense it in me. Her story began to falter as her tale took her to Yahar’Gul… her kidnapping. Her rescue. I stopped her before she could go immerse herself in that most recent chapter. I calmed her and caught her eyes. I… must have been avoiding them. She began to cry as she stared at me, hopeless and hysterical tears. She began to pray manically into my chest and I ran my fingers through her hair… whispering half truths that a child needs to hear sometimes. I still do not know her true age, but at that moment, Adella seemed only a girl. A child. How could any professed church do this to someone as innocent as her? As pure? I suppose though, that it is purity which is most potent. This pure girl whose tears still stain my coat more permanently than blood ever could. I can still hear her sobbing, begging me, begging the “Dear Hunter” to save her. Begging me to let her surrender her blood to me. I… I refused her. Even after I accepted Arianna’s offer so soon before. I believe she knows, even if she has not said anything of it… impure… I do not know what she wishes of me, and even if I did… I am afraid of ever having to fulfill her grim request.         -H

         Adella has fled from me, fled back to the safety of the chapel. I can sense someone watching me from above, and this time I am certain they are no phantasm. Eileen the Crow, my dear friend, has come to call.         -H

         Eileen is, if nothing else, a patient soul… if proud. She was kind enough to wait for me as I climbed through the Chapel up to her most recent perch. She pointed towards the Tomb of Oedon where Father Gascoigne once lurked, succumbing to the beasthood within his soul. Apparently his friend, Henryk, a fellow hunter, has gone mad with grief over Gascoigne’s demise. That… murder, my first true act as a Hunter, will its ripples ever cease? Its effects still reach me, even now. Gascoigne, you were a Hunter, a father, a friend to so many. If you could fall so low, what hope do I have? Eileen has told me not to go to the Tomb. Not to seek a fight with Henryk. But I feel that I must dry the well so its ripples will trouble me no more. If I can eliminate all of Gascoigne, then maybe my guilt will abate as well?         -H

         Eileen was right to have warned me! The Hunter Henryk was certainly strong, and quite an accomplished warrior worthy of Gascoigne’s friendship. Perhaps, in another time, another Hunt, we all might have been friends. Imagine that? I am still dazed from lost blood, Eileen’s arrival was the only thing that ensured that my life would be spared. She came at the last possible moment, just as Henryk was pulling back for a mortal blow. When she arrived however, it was in a flurry of blades that glinted with a strange silver light. Blades of Mercy, she called them. I think she might have been joking, but with Eileen, who can say? She praised me for my fine work, and we shared a drink of blood together. Afterwards, however, she warned me against this manner of Hunting. Leave the Hunting of Hunters to her… I tried to argue, but she was gone in the darkness as quick as she had arrived. Hunter of Hunters… well, I don’t know about that. But it does have a rather nice ring to it. For now, I am certain that all of my and my own are safe and sound. It is time to return to those fetid woods and see what secrets lay in their brambles.         -H

Chapter Nine: The Encroaching Blue, White Eyes, The Forbidden Woods

          What a strange man he is… while searching for Byrgenwerth I found someone I wasn’t expecting. Alfred, the polite man whom I first met in his mourning, was now standing at a landing that overlooked an overgrown forest. I fear that this is the way that leads to the old School; if so, I am quite unsettled by the notion of what might be living within those cancerous trees. Alfred was, as always, unperturbed. Such calm in a man can only be caused by either deep sickness or deep knowing. I have learned to mistrust either trait. He, of course, wanted to speak with me, to pass the time… as though time even passed in this place. I am not certain what caused the sun to wane, but it certainly was not the passage of time. I gave him information, and he reciprocated in kind, revealing to me that I was indeed on the right track. The stairs below him will lead to Byrgenwerth, all I must do is speak the password to whoever guards the door at this late hour. Whatever foul beast occupies that role must still adhere to the rules its masters set and open the doors to me when I speak the words of the old adage.          “Fear the old blood.”          It is right here, written on the back of the Vicar’s locket. She wanted to protect it so dearly, but I cannot manage to get it open. Her sentimentality towards the golden object is a mystery to me and, well… she certainly cannot feel anything towards it any more. How can I possibly think that what I am doing is right? There is nothing guiding my hand but my own desires and vague instructions from strangers. How am I to know if what I find in this School will instruct me in the ways I have strayed? So many people have died by my axe tonight, and there are still so many left to slay before my journey is done. I hope that I will find my answers at Byrgenwerth, not for my sake, but because I wish the blood to stop seeping into my clothes and hair.          -H

          I am cursed. That is the only explanation for what has just occurred. I spoke the password upon the request of someone within the massive doors sealing the way into Byrgenwerth, and upon their opening, I saw… a skeleton. A skeleton. A dead skeleton! A skeleton dusted with cobwebs and clean as any anatomist’s model. How could it possibly have spoken to me? Opened the doors to Byrgenwerth? Did I imagine it? No, that cannot be the case. If this is my welcome to the forest which will lead me to Byrgenwerth, I am not certain at all if I want to ever reach this School.          -H

         I left the... skeleton where he lay, doubtless he has important business later this evening and will be up and about in no time. No, I have not gone mad… not yet, please afford an old lady what humor she has left. I will need every ounce of it to survive. I see windmills in the distance overlooking the bulbous forest below. This land used to be a village, I can see caved in roofs from my high vantage point. I can also see torchlight, which I know at this point to be a bad sign. How could any Yharnamites have made their way into Byrgenwerth if this was such a closely guarded secret of the church? Could they have snuck in? It is unlikely. So the only explanation can be that they have been here since the doors were shut… how many years ago was that? Fifty? A hundred? Just how long has this hunt been going on? What was the city that I saw when I first arrived? A golden trap of honey and healing to lead people into the maw of the Hunter’s Dream. I see it now. They were never intending on letting me leave with Yharnam blood and now… I shudder to think of what might have happened if I had managed it. My dear husband exposed to this… abhorrence. It is mercy indeed that led me here and stopped me.          -H

          I have found a bridge into the town proper. I have also found a rather obvious spike trap. I avoided it, of course. I cannot imagine what idiot would succumb to such an obvious ploy.          -H

          I was correct in my assumptions: there are indeed Yharnamites within this place, but their plague is far more advanced than those in the city proper. I can see the change within them accelerating, and I can hear the sounds of cannon fire. This place has been fortified to a much greater degree than the rest of Yharnam… perhaps to keep people out? Or to protect their home. I cannot forget Old Yharnam and the beasts that… that dwelt there. Were they living in peace? Are these people just trying to protect their meager lives from destruction at my hands? I can see a cave just off of the road that is guarded… what secrets do you hide behind such a door as the one I passed through? It seems overzealous to hide something behind such a seal. Whatever it is, it smells foul. Wonderful.          -H

          Poison! A cave full of poison, bones, and decay. I have only just escaped onto an outcropping across from a lake filled with the acrid substance. I will need to find some manner of well to sluice these painful juices from my legs and I can already feel sores beginning to form. Of course I will mention that horrid worms of the enormous and slippery variety also populated the lake along with great poisoned giants, what else would there be in a place such as this? Had I seen herds of ponies and goats I would have been more frightened for the displacement… Oh dear… lovely, now that I have had a moment to breathe I notice that I am standing upon a pile of human bones, most of them horribly mutated or grotesquely defiled. As well I see a ladder that leads far up and into the surface. I suppose I must climb it, mustn’t I?          -H

          I… oh no, this cannot be. I see where I am now. I am in the courtyard just off to the side of Iosefka’s clinic, where I first awoke to this night. I have dispatched one of the slug-like monstrosities just now, and I hear the most awful noises coming from the clinic itself. She was so kind to me at first, but then she kept asking after new patients. It was almost… frightening to me to imagine someone under her ministrations. I am thankful now that I did not send anyone to her. Who knows what might have befallen Arianna or Adella had I sent them to the Doctor’s. I see it here, an open window and a way up. Iosefka has a great deal to answer for.            -H

          Blue. Lights in the darkness. I have found myself next to the gurney where I woke and I see a creature standing here next to me. It is awful in its piteous form. The body is fragile and weak, while the head is bulbous like a mushroom grown far too large. It is so blue, blue like sickness, like poison. It looks at me occasionally, with an intelligence that frightens me. I wish to kill it. I wish to kill it. I have to kill it. I have to stop it from looking at me! I can see clothes that look familiar next to it, a sock clings to its foot. This… no. No, it is a monster. Iosefka is gone and this is a monster that has replaced her. My legs were torn so badly that I would never walk again, I remember the feeling of the horrible birth which brought my sweet Matthew into the world and nearly ended my life. Those doctors that… that tried to heal me. I see it all in the white, empty eyes of this creature that stares at me so. It gurgles like an infant, and yet I can hear the sobs of a grown woman cacophonously interposed within.          What evil did I commit that I face this now? What foul deeds must I have done to be sent to Yharnam, the city of beasts and the damned?! No… calm yourself. You are a Hunter, your past is behind you until you can escape in totality. I cannot explore here any further, I must kill this… thing and be gone from this place before I lose my mind completely. Byrgenwerth can wait; I must make certain that my dear girls are alive and unmolested.          -H

Chapter Eight: Eyes on the Inside

          After dispatching the good Vicar Amelia, I awoke from my sanguine reverie to find that night had indeed fallen. I write now to keep from falling asleep once more, for there is some energy that has awoken in this city that lulls me into the peace of a dream. Would that I could find solace in my dreams any longer. There is but one thought that keeps me from an endless cycle of dreaming and waking: … fear the old blood. Umbasa, what did Willem mean? I am getting closer to an answer, I can see that clearly. No longer am I distracted by the notion of the Healing Church or by the nightly Hunt. This is far bigger than anything I believed when I first arrived in this accursed city.          Could this be linked to the paleblood I have been tasked with seeking? Ah, the rune again. I have not mentioned it before, my secret, but ever since my first death I have felt… seen… I know of a rune that is carved on the inside of my mind. A hanging symbol that calls me back to the Dream. What this rune means, and what it has to do with the Hunt, I can only guess at, but I am certain that it has something to do with the runes carved on the monstrous skull on the altar within this Cathedral. I have not found my answers yet, and so I must seek further afield. There is a graveyard off to the right… a graveyard; this whole city is a necropolis with gatekeepers more foul than the dead they keep. Nevertheless, I may find answers in some spoiled grave. I do not imagine myself a graverobber, but then again, I did not imagine myself here, either.          -H

         Here we are again, my secret, another half-imagined guess confirmed by an ominously sealed gate. There is no apprehension any longer, no fear. What may come in my journey, now that night has fallen, I can only assume it to be far worse than what has become before and… I welcome those horrors. Truly, as I stare along these once curated roads that lead to barns, decrepit homes, and tombstones piled high, I feel a strange sense of peace. This uneasiness has become natural, the breathing synonymous with my own elevated heartbeat. Without all of this danger my blood would not rush through my veins so eagerly, and I could not save those whom I am meant to bring salvation. Arianna, Adella, my dear husband, my beloved Matthew, so many depend on me surviving this. I must dive deep into the abyss and come out dripping in madness and gripping answers. But, what will become of me after all of this is over? As Eileen said, a Hunter must hunt… and I am. And I will.          -H

          Hemwick Charnel Lane. This town of tombstones on the outskirts of Yharnam’s central cathedral seems to be a crossroads more than a demesne itself. Indeed, off in the distance I can see the remains of a broken bridge leading to a forsaken castle. Despite its simplicity, Hemwick is not without its share of local color, skeletal women with claw-like hands wander these roads as though out at market. I almost imaged that I could hear one speaking to the other about price of sweet peas; such normalcy only served to make the hollowed out village more unreal. To make matters worse, I feel the sensation of eyes upon me, and the shadows seem to move on their own. What has been given life by sunfall and Amelia’s demise? Surely the shadows themselves do not count among the list of my enemies?          -H

          Do remind me to not make my life more difficult by suggesting what nightmares I might face next? It would seem I am either prophetic or have grown more used to this place than I thought. Either concept is altogether too depressing to contemplate, but all the same, I do ask my future self to refrain from speculation lest my predictions prove accurate. As I walked down a lane particularly crowded with tombs, a bright red light erupted from the ground and… well, from the shadows arose gangly creatures of claws, hair, and little else. The beings moved unusually stiffly, as though their minds were not their own. Fortunately this halting movement made them easy prey and I do not anticipate them giving me much trouble. Despite this, their glowing white eyes refuse to depart my memory. These creatures seem to come from deep below; they are certainly not of this world and cannot possibly be the product of the Scourge. I will find what is creating these monsters and dispatch them. Yes. If I am so resolved however, why do I feel such anxiety over what could possibly have dreamed up such things with these terrible eyes!          -H

          I have found my way to a… warehouse of some kind. The structure is as decrepit as the rest this place, but there is something about it that feels surreal. The mad claw beasts are being summoned more frequently the closer I come to this place, so I can safely assume that I have located the source of this horror. I stand inside of the building now, and a once hidden ramp leads down into its bowels. I can only just make out chanting similar to what I heard in Yahar’Gul, that nightmare village where I was held prisoner. Could these two places be connected? If they are, do I truly wish to find the truth? In my pursuit of knowledge am I not heedlessly throwing myself into the heart of this place’s dark insanity?          I realize that I must, for I have gone too far now. I must let go of my fear and steel my mind to the unknown. I must accept it all, or perish with eyes wide open.          -H

         Witches. That is the only word for what those women down in the heart of this graveyard have become. They were stooped and weak, although they had at their disposal strong magics that I have never seen before. I was correct in my previous assumption, they were indeed the ones who were bringing the clawed beasts into this world. Now that they are gone, perhaps my exit from this place will be of a more peaceful kind. Once more I find eyes to be a common theme with Yharnam sorcery: the crones were draped in living eyes that swiveled blindly as though in individual agony. I am only too aware of where they obtained such vast amounts of the organs, for above…          I do not wish to describe what I see as I look around this ritual chamber. But I must, I swore this to be a record of my travails and so I must be truthful, no matter the cost to my sanity. Bodies, hundreds of them, dangling and swinging against an invisible wind and wrapped in filthy silks. From their heads leak a bloody ichor, and I can see in some holes where their eyes have been gouged out from their living bodies. I can be glad that, when this night is over, the world will be rid of these monstrous women.          There is one room that I have yet to explore down a narrow hallway off of this chamber. I can see that the room is barred, but what could the witches have been hiding behind these closed doors?          -H

          I am not entirely certain what it is that I now hold in my hands. It appears to be an implement of either medicine or torture; although my experience lends me to believe such things are often synonymous. To start, the room is reminiscent of a surgical torture chamber, with dozens of implements scattered along the walls and the floor. In the center is a single chair with manacles and bindings holding its occupant in place. The victim was a Hunter, I can see that clearly. The poor man might even still be alive for all I can see, for, detached from their casing, his eyes roll in their sockets with futile eagerness. The instrument that I spoke of was attached to this Hunter’s head, binding his mind and thoughts. It appears to be made of wrought iron, with two bars acting as a clamp and a third moving on a pivot. I cannot imagine how it functions, but looking inside of the dead Hunter’s eyes I saw them: runes. I saw runes carved inside of this man’s mind and among them, the symbol that I see whenever I close my eyes. I will return to the Dream with this tool, for no doubt Gehrman will instruct me in its function. I will also bring with me a small scrap of this Hunter’s cloak, for burial purposes if nothing else. I cannot take the time to dig him a proper grave, but perhaps when the night is over I will return… when the night is over, my secret, am I foolish to think of life beyond the Hunt? Will I ever stop dreaming of this place? More importantly, can I ever leave or am I trapped forever within this Hunter’s Dream?          -H

          Gehrman is, as always, uselessly cryptic and unhelpful. However, he did express interest in my return of what he calls a “workshop tool” created by a student from long ago named Caryll. The man apparently was a scholar of Byrgenwerth; that name again. I feel that I now have all the necessary clues to find the lost school and uncover its secrets. I can see it all inside of my mind now. I have made use of the tool myself and inscribed several runes upon my brain. Runes for strength, for knowledge, for defense. I can hear them, strangely, whispering their natures to me. I feel now that if I encounter other perished Hunters, I will be able to extract the runes from their minds and place them onto my own. What a miserable notion. With all of this new knowledge, I think it only right that I make my way to the forbidden university. To Byrgenwerth.          -H

Chapter Seven: An Old Man’s Adage

          My secret, did you know that a doll could cry? After returning to the Dream after my unsettling revelations in the old workshop, I was surprised to find the Doll missing. She did not go far, however, and I saw her tending to the grave closest to the Dream workshop’s entrance. She did not notice me, and I quietly watched her pick and brush away at the smallest bits of debris that contaminated the precious tombstone. Her fingers are so delicate, her face so peaceful… why is she here? What purpose does she serve to this Dream other than the role of a companion in Gehrman’s absence? I gently coaxed her to my presence and quietly presented her with the hair ornament. She… was rather taken aback by the gift, I must say. She spoke of joy, of confusion.          What is this creature, to have such hidden memories restored by an ornament? She cried then, as I said, but she did not weep tears of salt as we mortals might. No, her tears were crystalline and pure. They sparkled with emotion and intent; within, I saw the churning of a gemstone filled with a pale blood. Pale blood, what I have been seeking all this time… and yet, now I dare not shatter this teardrop to take it as my own. I dare not. For what evidence is there that this Doll lived, thought, and wept, save for this single tear? It is… precious to me, and I will keep it with me always.          -H

          I have returned to the Oedon Chapel and stand now at the foot of a stairway to the inner sanctum of the Healing Church. Giants and servants of the Church guard the Grand Cathedral courtyard. They are no match for my axe and I will find them no impediment to my progress towards the Grand Cathedral itself. The question is, however, once I see what lies within, will I wish to proceed? After what I have seen so far, it is clear that Yharnam hides many secrets, secrets that begin with the Healing Church. Once I go past this point, there is no turning back.          As I look to those whom I have rescued I begin to doubt myself. They are, for the most part, still suspicious of my and the beggar’s motives in bringing them here. All… save for Arianna and Adella. These two women trust me implicitly. They seem to be somewhat dubious of each other, however, and although they never speak a word towards each other I can sense the malaise between them. A problem for later, as I am sure that nothing will come of it. They are but two girls vying for their matron savior’s affection. It is sweet, really. Enough dawdling. I will clean myself off and put on my best rags… off to Church I go.          -H

          As I suspected, the guardians of this place are as nothing before my sweeping blade. It was strange, however. Did these guardians always have such wretched lanterns with rolling eyes affixed to its face? Were these scythes always burning with such intensity? This further affirms my actions: I must act now before reality becomes even more unfixed. Or, am I only now beginning to see the world as it truly is? Adella’s visions in the graveyard, perhaps they were not the mere fancies of madness I took them for? Oh, how I wish for Adella and I both to be mad. If the world is as she sees it, then I do not wish for eyes to see.          I stand at the doors of the Grand Cathedral and I feel in my heart a sense of foreboding that I cannot explain. I hear whisperings within, the sounds of fervent prayer. A cursory press against these doors tells me that they are well hinged and will open readily, but do I dare? The cathedral itself is an ornate monstrosity, constructed to loom like a watchful eye above all of Yharnam. What sins have this eye perceived, I wonder? What sacrilege? What depravity? What could possibly be unholy in the eyes of a deity that condones the Hunt and the transformations I have seen? I suppose I will discover the truth of it with my own eyes. I will open the door.          -H

         What unholy abomination is this? I have only just now recovered my composure as I sit at the foot of blood soaked steps. My secret, I thank you for your firm solidity. You are merely paper, and cannot drive me mad by a mere glance. The statues that line this antechamber are like nothing I have seen before or would ever wish to see again. Such beings cannot exist and must be the imagination of a cult led by fevered minds. This must all be some derivation of the Soul Arts gone horribly awry, and these creatures an interpretation of some horrific demon. Surely. Surely such a thing cannot exist? The idols protruded from plateaued stone with only two long, reaching limbs tipped with bird-like talons. Despite this, they seem more akin to an enormous arachnid than any terrestrial avian. Its chest cavity is gaunt and skeletal with a gaping hole where the heart would be. Instead of the head on a human there was a boney, cylindrical cage that contained what appeared to be the creature’s brain and various other sensory organs. The entire body was lovingly coated in sharp, thin hairs.          My secret, know this: I have seen and slain demons, those creatures that form from a human’s soul’s quest for power. Demons can take awful, grotesque shapes, and in my time with the military at the onset of the Fog, I faced demons of all kinds. Although I never slew an archdemon myself, I did have one described to me. Such a creature as that, I would welcome at my table as a guest if they brought news that the creatures I see here do not exist. As I have attempted to recover myself the chanting above continues. What minister could possibly be in attendance of such a place as this? It sounds female… perhaps she is merely hiding here, as the beggar was? I cannot imagine that anyone would come to this place willingly and yet… here I am.          -H

         I… I cannot. No, I cannot put to paper the deformation that I have just seen. For a small, small girl to contain such an enormous beast within her… no, this cannot be the truth of the world. Such things cannot happen! Is this the secret of Yharnam’s blood? Is this the fate that awaits me? Monstrosity? As much as it saddens me, the form that this woman took was almost… do I dare call it beautiful?  White hair along an enormous and tormented body crowned by elegant antlers. As I sliced into her flesh I could not help but feel as though I were harming something… holy. During the fight, the woman was able to close her wounds through golden, holy energies. She did not use the vile blood rejuvenation that I have become so accustomed to, she had god on her side. But what god would allow the creation of such a beast? Is this the true shape of mankind? Is this what our gods meant for us as an apotheosis? It cannot be. That girl, as she fell and her holy blood drained into my open veins, she dropped a golden amulet. To think that she had been protecting such a thing this whole time… Could I have even fought her if she had brought her full strength to bear? I cannot say, for she is dead and I am not. The amulet was engraved on both sides, on the front are the words: Amelia, scratched in a shaky hand. On the back, carved deep with what I suspect to be claws, are the words: “Fear the old blood.” I cannot guess at the meaning of these words, but whatever does hold the old blood in this city… I do fear it deeply.          As to learning Amelia’s name… I gain no comfort in this knowledge. However, perhaps by knowing the name of the woman I murdered I can gain some form of salvation for my actions. This woman was afraid and died screaming. What was it she so longed to protect? The altar that she was praying to has a skull that seems similar to Amelia’s own bestial projection placed on a place of honor. It seems to have runes edged on the inside of it somehow… perhaps a closer look will reveal more.          -H

         A vision? That is the only word for what I have witnessed. A vision brought on by either magic or madness, which I cannot say. After all, are the two so easily distinguished here? The vision told of a Master Willem, a Laurence, a dividing of factions and the parting of ways between two old friends. Between them there was no animosity at this revelation, merely weighty acceptance; and always the words “Fear the old blood.” Their adage, they said. I look out the grand windows of the cathedral and see that while passing time in reverie night has truly fallen. Has it really only been the time between afternoon and nightfall? This night seems the only one I have ever known. What could have possibly granted such a vision? Perhaps exploring the grounds of the Cathedral further will bring me answers. For now that I have reached the Cathedral, I realize that my journey will take me further afield from Yharnam… first to the source of these runes to understand the why, and then deeper into its heart to understand the how. I will journey to Byrgenwerth.          -H

Chapter Six: The Source of the Dream

          I seem to be gaining a lasting sense of trepidation regarding open doors. No sooner did Adella and I return to the Oedon Chapel than I saw a set of stone doors that were inlaid into the wall and previously quite invisible. These doors have, inexplicably, now opened themselves to me. I haven’t the faintest idea as to what might lie beyond these doors, but it would seem I have little choice in the matter; all other ways deeper into the Cathedral Ward are barred to me. Perhaps, with the proper exploration, I will find my own way into the Grand Cathedral.          It has been a long night, however, and the comfort of the Dream will do me good. Perhaps, this time, I will be able to find Gehrman and perhaps extract an answer from the impossible man. I do need to rest in any case. Although, could it be that it is not rest that I crave, but rather a reprieve from the terrors of this reality painted upon the inside of my eyes? I am still shaken after my escape from Yahar’Gul, and familiar company will do me good. I wonder how the Doll is faring?          -H

         My secret, how can the Hunter’s Dream exist? If it is indeed a dream, then who is dreaming it? I? It cannot be, I have never seen such a grim yet peaceful place in all of my years before I arrived here after my… my death. Perhaps this is all a test? A trial to gain entrance to the afterlife I have so long been promised? No, it cannot be, and even were it so I reject such tedious notions. So, setting aside the possibility of theological manifestation, a dream must have a dreamer. Perhaps all of the Hunters of Yharnam collectively dream of this place? If this is so, then where did the impetus of it all come from? What is the source of the dream? Gehrman is vague on answers as ever, telling me that the Healing Church sought to fight the beasts as they cropped up and so created a workshop similar to the one in the Dream. He also says that it is located in the Oedon Chapel.          I think I know what is behind that stone door. The only question now is this: who opened it?          -H

         Having ascended a brief elevator, I have found myself facing a parapet attached to the chapel by a thin bridge. If the gun-wielding madman that greeted me is any indication, this tower is not the welcoming sort. At the top of the tower I can just barely make out yet another structure, but its presence makes my head swim. I fear what ascending this tower might mean, but curiosity and necessity require that I proceed. Even now I hear the growls of half-transformed Yharnamites and I can even make out the images of them prowling along the ramparts. It would seem my senses are becoming sharper. Lovely.          Let us see how my reflexes have improved.          -H

         Curse this place to the gullet of the Old One! Another locked door! Umbasa, I stand at the top of this blasted tower only to find a room full of incense, the badge of a miserable and dead Hunter named Ludwig, and another locked door. I know answers lie beyond this door; I can feel my head pounding from just staring at the frame.          I have stood here for a long while, trying to piece this together. The incense, or so the blind beggar at the Chapel told me, is meant to deflect the senses of beasts. Yet, the tower was full of the stuff and was just as populated as any other warren of this city. Not to mention, the area most heavily concentrated with incense is directly by the locked door… as though they were trying to seal this part of the Chapel with more than lock and key. In addition to everything else, the door emanates a dull vibration that makes my teeth rattle. It is just enough to set me on edge and I do not like it. There is a pressure exuding from beyond the door into the rest of the city. For now, there is nothing for it. I will have to return to this location later. I will explore this tower more thoroughly now that I have emptied it of… undesirables. Perhaps I will find a way down instead of another way up.          -H

         Oh, oh dear. Did you know I was absolutely oblivious to the fact that I was afraid of heights until this very moment? Well, it would seem I am and it is most disconcerting. I have found my way down, all right. Off to the right side of the base levels of the parapet there was a blasted hole that led to an interior passageway. This passageway leads down, not by ladders, nor rope, but by scaffolding completely unintended to support the weight of anyone. It is lucky my years have removed so much of the excess baggage of my youth. A thin skeleton is what is needed to survive such a journey down. No, do not stare, do not stare. Keep writing and do not think of the blackness below you. Now that my eyes have adjusted to the dark I see that there are ropes off to the left. I will use them to guide my descent. What great fun this has turned out to be.          -H

         Sometimes I think this city is taunting me. Another door, completely out of place in the middle of this dark pit. I will not even attempt to open it; for I am certain that it too will be locked. And freeze my hands off at a touch, and be on fire for good measure! Perhaps it will even lead to a darker, more depressing hole.          -H

         I am far too stubborn sometimes. After a depressingly long series of minutes I did try the door and found it to open easily to my coaxing. What I found within… I am not certain I can properly describe. Although, it would seem that I have described it before. It is the Dream. The Hunter’s Dream here, in the real and waking world. There is the house where the workshop lies, and all around me are the graves of my fellow Hunters. The only missing piece is the locked garden gate that would occupy the space where the tower is in the real world.

         This place is eerily quiet. I can only place it now due to its absence, but since I set foot in Yharnam I have been subject to the low sound of wet and ragged breathing directly behind me. How could I have never noticed it before? Now that it is gone, I can hear my heart beat for the first time since I woke in this very spot within the Dream. This does prove one thing, at least: I am alive and awake. I must explore this source of the dream for clues. There must be answers here. -H

         I have found several artifacts here that I expect Gehrman and his Doll will find interesting. No doubt they will provide me with the rewards of confusion and befuddlement that seems to be their main and only currency. The most interesting item recovered from this place is an old jade hair ornament… I found it by the Doll. This is what I assume to be the real doll, the one that my version in the Dream is founded upon.          I approached this doll because I saw the glint of the ornament but, oh I do wish that I hadn’t. Something was writhing inside of the doll’s skirts like a serpent. After hesitating, some part due to a mistaken sense of propriety on the part of the doll and also my not inconsiderate amount of apprehension; I lifted the doll’s skirt. Underneath, resting upon the doll’s porcelain belly, I found a desiccated fleshy cord. It could not possibly have been moving; there was no means of locomotion. Yet, the Doll moves well enough on her own without a puppeteer pulling at her strings. This cord, I found upon closer inspection, was the remains of an umbilical cord. It was covered in eyes, my secret. Glaring, gaping eyes that even now stare at me and chew at my mind. I wish to discard it, to throw it away, but… it recalls something of my past. I did indeed give birth more than once, did I not?

          Yes, I... remember. I have three children: two daughters and a son. I know my son’s name, but my two daughters I cannot remember! I cannot see their faces or hear their voice, but something in this umbilical cord may bring with it the insight to remember. I will hold it with me, for now. Perhaps there are more of these foul things to find. Gods know in what nightmares I will obtain them the next time.         This source of the dream carries with it a peacefulness that I am loath to depart, especially when my only egress is back into the darkness. But I must continue down in search of answers. I must, for my children and for my poor husband.  the old blood.         -H

        I have arrived safely on solid ground with little to no incident. There is a stone tunnel that leads to, if not fresh air, then the air of someplace other than this pit. I will follow it and hope that it leads to where I wish to go.         -H

         What could have birthed such a thing? The creature that I felled which was guarding the exit to this pathway perhaps was a human once. No more, however. It was as though a tendril-covered slug had placed itself upon the neck of an emaciated man. It was foul, and I could feel my mind slipping just a modicum closer to madness for merely looking at it as I swung my axe into its neck. I pray that I will never see such horrors again, but I know it to be a false hope.         -H

         It would seem my hunch was right. I find myself on the other side of the gates to the Cathedral Ward. I can see the Oedon Chapel from here a short distance away. In truth I have traveled only several dozen feet as the crow flies. What a journey it has been. I will open the gate and progress further after I have rested and have spoken to the Doll. Perhaps she will want “her” ornament returned to her. There was something else as well, some revelation that I came to in that strange place that I cannot place. My mind aches as I think of it, and I am certain that it is important. My reason for coming here, was it really so close to me only to slip away now? Ah, I cannot concentrate in this wretched place! Alas, the wet bestial breathing that I mentioned has returned, right over my shoulder. It is difficult to distinguish it now beyond the howls of beasts and the rasping of monsters, but it is there. Waiting.         -H

Chapter Five: Adella, Blood of Lightning, and the Escape from the Hypogean Gaol

         I am not certain that I have the courage to venture past this open door. I hear such horrid things beyond the dim light of the lanterns that illuminate my cell, and the creatures that so easily spirited me away to this place are no doubt lurking in the dark. I feel my skin break out in goose flesh as I write, am I lain low so easily? I look to my axe, the mechanical wonder that has served me so well in my time here. Its edge has yet to falter, and I would be remiss if I dulled before my weapon. Am I not a warrior? Am I not a Hunter who has slain creatures far worse than this in my time spent in this wretched city and before? I cannot afford myself the luxury of fear and a quivering resolve; I am here for a purpose. I will leave my cell and explore the area, and woe betide any who come across my path in this forsaken place.          -H

         My whole body is shaking with horror from what I might have just done. I heard muttering, sobbing, and followed the sound down a staircase and into a room full with the stench of blood. I saw nothing to indicate the source of the sounds, and so, carefully, I searched for it. My secret, I should have been more careful: I found the source of the sound and in my surprise I nearly took an axe to a poor young woman cowering behind the bodies of her friends. Her name is Adella, and I am afraid the poor girl is quite beside herself. Not that I am much better, shivering beside her as I write. My axe lies between us in an unspoken plea of apology: if I had been a little faster or a fraction less aware… damn my eyes! If only I could see in the dark like these beasts, then I might have seen faster and… It does no good to dwell on the mights and might nots, she is alive and that is what is important.          Adella is frightfully thin beneath her dark cleric’s robes; how long must she have hidden here, with nothing to eat but rats and the sobs of her slowly disappearing friends. She says that they are all gone now, disappeared to the upper levels. They have become part of some ritual done by the people of this town: Yahar’Gul, the Unseen Village. An esoteric name, and one that suits the dark business at work here. I will offer Adella some food and send her to the Chapel. What she needs is a Doctor but Iofeska became strangely intense once I voiced my decision to send wanderers away from her clinic. My messengers, I do hope I made the right choice. For now, once I am certain Adella knows the path to safety, I will clear it for her.          -H

         This town is cursed. That is the only explanation for the crawling that I feel inside of my bones, as though worms writhed inside of me, struggling to escape into the damp, warm air. The smell of wrongness is stronger here than in Yharnam and there are two of those foul boars here along with a host of dogs and other creatures of nightmare. It is all for naught though, I write resting against a locked door that leads to the rest of the town. It will not open to my touch nor to my blade, and I fear that what ritual chanting I hear beyond will go on for some time. There is nothing I can do for now and so I will return to where I was imprisoned and attempt to explore further in that direction.          -H

         Beyond rusted cells and several guards I have found a hole in the wall that leads to chill air that reeks of ozone. This might be the way out I have been searching for. I can only hope that it will be a simple escape.          -H

         What luck! I stand in a courtyard that leads to a large door: my escape! The only guard dog seems to have died a long time ago, as the creature is nothing but bones now. The stench of ozone is still quite strong, but it is of no consequence, I am sure. I will open the door and escape with Adella in tow… What is that noise?          -H

         From now on I will drive my axe into the skull of every skeleton I meet! That beast wore lightning like fur and was fast with electric strength. I consider myself lucky to have survived the surprise attack, but after that I was able to cow the beast into submission and then death. Its blood sizzled as it dove straight towards my heart, crackling with blue energy. It was exquisite. And now, the door.          -H

         Excellent! This door connects to Old Yharnam. A dangerous place before, but after my work it is quite silent indeed. Adella and I shall escape through here and make our way back to the Chapel.          -H

         What a strange girl. I cannot piece her together; she is the complete opposite of how I was at her age. Where I was strong and defiant, she is frightened and submissive. Where I would shout, she whimpers. It must be the dealings with the Healing Church that have done this do her. Indeed, I recall several nuns from my order retaining a similar disposition. All save for one: Saint Astraea. She and her guardian taught me much while I was under their care. It was through them that I met my dear…  I do hope that nothing terrible has happened to them. They disappeared so long ago and I heard such dreadful rumors. No matter, I am sure they survived the fog. As will Adella, I will ensure it.          -H

         We have stopped just outside the Chapel by an old well. Adella insists on staring blankly up into empty space with such a look of terror in her eyes that I cannot help but feel that I am the one who is blind. Perhaps I am. She continues to mutter to herself about something she did, how she is sorry.  I cannot blame her or pass judgment. That is for the gods to decide.  I fear that the girl might have been driven mad by her ordeal. I cannot face her if that is the case, I cannot cut her down even if it means saving another.          Do you know, she offered me her blood as we made the trek back from Old Yharnam. She offered me the blood of a daughter of the Healing Church, a great honor, or so she claims. I refused her once, and she put on such a look of despair that I accepted when she proffered a second time. She opened her veins with a practiced ease that unsettled me and then watched as I drank with such big, blue eyes. She reminded me of… did I ever have a daughter? She would be Adella’s age now, if I did. It is so hard to remember of a time before coming here, and even harder to recall my life before the mists. Might I have had a daughter with bright blue eyes who stared at me in this way? Pleading with me to let her come with me this time, this time. How many children have I failed in my life? Oh, Matthew, please forgive your poor old mother.          -H

Chapter Four: Consequences in Old Yharnam

          I am being watched. My secret, I felt it as I explored the inner courtyard of the areas surrounding the Cathedral Ward. I felt a presence just beyond my sight, as though if I turned quick enough I could see something crawling back into the shadows. As I have traveled through Yharnam and learned more of what tortures occur behind closed doors, it is as though the veil of reality is peeled back inch by aching inch. Is this place stripping me of my only defense against madness by removing the bliss of closed eyelids?           In these courtyards there are strange guardians and enormous, misshapen beasts that stalk as though on patrol. They are not a part of the Hunt, that much is clear, so what are they guarding against? Perhaps they seek to silence those who have snuck into the Cathedral Ward without the permission of the Church? It sends shivers down my spine to think that these creatures are what the Healing Church uses as its defenders. To think that I was so eager to join them when I first arrived in this city. A Knight-Captain must be vigilant in trying times as these. I must be strong and immovable; if not for my sake, then at least for the sake of my husband. After all, he is the reason I am here, isn’t he?           -H

          I write with cold wind blowing against my face. It would be a welcome reprieve from the dankness of the central city if the stench did not carry with the wind. I have found what I only assume to be where the Cleric Beast descended.  Looking down upon the city from this height, I can only feel pity for those beasts writhing below. Is this what the Healing Church’s dignitaries thought, day by day? Did they too look down from this vantage and see how small we humans are and seek for greater heights? Well, it would seem that they found their answer in the blood. As did I. How different from them am I, really? Eileen would say that I am a Hunter and that means strength. But do I not consume blood just as these beasts do? Do I not evolve, as they do? I must leave this place as soon as I can, lest I become something other than human. If I have not done so already.           -H

          I have met another that I might call a friend in this horrid place. While exploring the mausoleums that dot the lower part of the Chapel courtyards, I found a man praying at a most curious gravestone. While his rather large frame blocked the faded name upon the marble, I did see the glint of gold resting against it. The man filled the silence with speech and diatribe. He calls himself Alfred, and he seems a nervous sort of man. He tells me to ask him questions and he does seem to find the most curious answers. I now know for certain that the Healing Church has uncovered something foul in their Blood Ministration. Failed efforts resulted in the Scourge of the Beasts, which spread through Old Yharnam: a location that has since been razed and buried.           He went on to say that there is a small village called Byrgenwerth just outside of Central Yharnam where all of this began. A man named Willem and a small cabal of others found something beneath the city and all of this madness began with their experimentation upon it. Yes, if I want answers, I will have to find my way to Byrgenwerth. However, the town seems to be sealed to those who do not know the secret words. I will simply have to find them. No barred door will stop me.           -H

          Well now, this is something. While exploring a particularly well -kept mausoleum I found a lever that uncovered a set of stairs beneath the central tomb. I can hear growling down there, but then again, I can hear growling above as well.  I may as well explore further, my axe has not let me down yet.           -H

          A sealed door with a keep out sign. How inviting.           -H

          Incredible! I write having just opened the doors into what must be Old Yharnam. The berg is still aflame, even now. No doubt the alchemical oils that set fire to the place still linger. I can smell nothing but burning hair and flesh and, as disgusted as I am to write this, it is not altogether unpleasant. There is also something else, acrid and poisonous. I should hope not to find the source of it, but, after all, is that not why I broke the seal to this place?           -H

          There is a man standing far above me on a tower who has very kindly asked me to leave this place, that the beasts here are harmless. I am afraid that I most profoundly disagree and will have to disappoint him.           -H

          I had no idea such technology existed! The gun that this man fires at me shoots without end, I only just managed to escape into the inside of a chapel before I was made into minced meat. I will have to find a way up to his lofty tower and dislodge him. However, first I will explore this chapel. The beasts that dwell in Old Yharnam have, for the most part, eschewed the use of clothing. This is no doubt a sign of their departure from humanity and civilization. Unfortunately for them, I feel no pity for such creatures and neither does my axe. They are dispatched easily enough, however I have noticed that some of my smaller wounds are beginning to fester. I believe that these beasts have contracted a poison and would very much like to pass it on to me.  Luckily, on the bodies of Hunters past I have found antidotes that will prove very useful. No doubt that Hunter on the tower murdered them. It would be foolish of me to swear revenge, but all the same, it is good for one to have external motivation.           -H

          Incredible. The beasts have strung up a larger creature in the center of this chapel. I cannot say to what purpose, but it is there like a grotesque on chapel walls. Could it be that these beasts are not as mindless as I had thought? The creature, though dead, shivers slightly in the warm wind. Its eyes still jitter about like dark spiders, as though even in death this creature still sees. Despite the peace of the chapel, I would rather risk the Hunter’s gun than stay another moment in this place.           -H

          It would seem the Hunter on the tower was unprepared for my arrival. I climbed up his tower like a prince in a fairy tale and, like so many of those princes; I had other things in mind than romance. Perhaps, in another time, we might have been friends. My axe sliced into him and he barely had time to react as we collided. Hunter blood, I realize, smells sweeter than that of beasts. Eileen would be ashamed of the glee that I took in dismembering the man, but he peeled so easily under my blade. I saw fear in his eyes as he fell under my strength; he is not protected by the strange immortality of the Dream. He said that he has revoked that protection. The fool now lies in pieces that are slowly draining of blood as it comes into me. He becomes a part of me and I become stronger still. I sit now, as though on top of the world once more. The sky here is red as blood, and I wish that I could gorge myself upon it.           -H

          I must have dozed off, but I did not return to the Dream. No, I had nightmares instead. Nightmares of giant boars and blood-stained ribbons. My secret, I fear what I may become if I continue down this path. I must exercise restraint where I can. I can see a cathedral in the distance from my perch and will explore it once I have collected myself. Surely the source of the poison that infests Old Yharnam lies within.           -H

          Such a creature… the beast that I have just slain was remarkable. It was swift and vicious, yet its hair hid the face of something just barely beyond human. I could see the pain in its eyes as it lunged for me. It was emaciated, drawn, and starved for blood. It wanted the blood within me just as I wanted its life.  We were two desperate beasts lunging into one another in a dance much more wild than what transpired between the Father Gascoigne and I. Despite this however, I feel a sense of loneliness begin to spread through Old Yharnam. As though the death of this creature was akin to the death of a priest. 

          The creatures that dwelt here, were they truly living in peace? Was I so blind that I carved my way through here for no other purpose than blood and power? Surely there must have been a reason. My secret, I fear that I have made a mistake in coming here. Perhaps I should have done as the Hunter asked, and left well enough alone.  Can one truly live as a beast? It cannot be possible, and yet, those Yharnamites that attacked me in the central square called me a beast. Whose perception has the true sight of reality? I cannot know and so I must trust my own eyes. I hear a shuffling from outside and so I will investigate. It cannot be anything more terrible than what I have fought inside of this cathedral.           -H

          It is in desperation that I write this. My secret, were you but a gateway into the Dream! I have been snatched to a most unnatural place. I cannot see much within my prison cell, but I can hear the sounds of torture, depravity, and, in the distance: discordant chanting. I have also found something that frightens me even more than my kidnapping: the door to my cell has been left unlocked.           -H

Letters to No One

          My dearest Messengers, I write this letter to you unsure if you can even read it. But I do find such comfort in your presence amidst the lantern glow; you remind me of white flowers that grow within the Dream. I have heard your whispers in my ear and I agree: I will tell those in need to find their way to the Odeon Chapel. I only hope that nothing comes to prey upon these poor people. This city is, after all, full of wolves in sheep’s clothing.

          -H

Chapter Three: Refugees

          I have returned to the clinic where I first awoke in Yharnam, for I recall that the physician there offered solace to those out on the night of the Hunt. With so many unfortunates locked behind rotted doors, it would behoove me well to offer them a safe haven. I have destroyed that wretched boar that blocked the safe path to the blind man’s chapel, and so that path may now be clear. However, this clinic run by… Iofeska, I believe her name was, is certainly a much easier walk for most. However, now that I am here I am not so sure. Wasn’t my first encounter with a beast within these very walls? And the floors are stained with blood and foul ichor. It does not seem to be safe to me, however Iofeska herself seems a reasonable sort. She hides behind a heavy door when she speaks to me and perhaps that same door might provide shelter for those in need. It is a moot point for now. Although I must come to a decision soon, I must first find those in need of rescue before I can send them to either the church or the clinic.            -H

          Why do I seek to help these people? Does my guilt for what happened to the little girl haunt me so? I feel her misery buried deep inside of me. How could I hope to help others when I failed so spectacularly with her? I have cleared the paths as well as I can, but Beasts roam at random throughout this city. I cannot be everywhere at once, and if I fail again… I cannot bear the thought. Yet, despite this, the thought of inaction plagues me even more deeply.  I see a haunting guise in the fire light nearby, and despite its beaked face it seems more human than the Beasts of the city. Perhaps this is another Hunter? I will approach. I was never one to hide from a new face, but still, my axe will be ready. After all, Father Gascoigne was a Hunter too.           -H

          It would seem that goodness has not abandoned this city entirely; a Hunter named Eileen has joined me in the Hunt tonight. She wears the cowl of a plague doctor, and yet she reminds me very much of myself. To hear her speak of many hunts past and of this one in particular, I find myself relieved. There are those who have survived this ordeal and come out the other side to fight again. Yet, Eileen remains a Hunter, and the Hunts begin again. Is there no end to this madness? She encourages me to trust no one, yet how can I continue on my own? My heart is lightened by the thought that Eileen is out there with me. I know that if I send people to safety she will, at least, keep watch. I will comb the city for survivors who will listen to reason and bring them to safety. Where though? I cannot decide.           -H

          My first refugee is… bothersome. She, like me, has seen her fair share of years. Yet that seems to be all that we have in common. The woman is mistrustful and without remorse for those outside. However, I do sense her fear behind that closed door, and so I have told her of a safe haven.  Hopefully she will find it without much trouble and, perhaps, she will be able to let go of her fears.           -H

          There is a section of town quite close to the Healing Church that has suffered heavily. In this alleyway, even those locked inside of their homes have not fared well. I hear the inhuman snarling that I have grown all too familiar with. They cannot be saved. There were beasts gathered round a man wearing the robes of the clergy. I relieved the poor soul of his cloth in the hopes that it might provide me with security in these dark times. I was once a Captain of the church, after all. Umbasa.          

          I hear more humane sounds now further down the alley and I will investigate.           -H

          That insufferable buffoon! There were two poor fools down that alley, one a… well, a working girl who seemed kind enough, and the other a maddening excuse for a man. I told both of them where to find safety, but I fear that the idiot will do exactly the opposite of what I tell him. I can say with honesty that I care very little what happens to him. Calling me a liar, a fool and lord knows what else behind my back. It is a wonder his neighbors haven’t strung him up already and I have half a mind to do their job for them. I suppose if he finds safety I’ll get my chance, and if he doesn’t… well, the night is young still and who knows where the Hunt will take me.

          I do hope that girl finds herself a place to hide, she didn’t seem to be very well when I spoke to her.           -H

          I have found all who would listen to me within the central part of the city. If only I could send the whole of Yharnam to the safety of the Dream. But perhaps the Dream exists only within me, a safe haven within my own mind. It would seem impossible, even with legends of the Nexus still told when I was young, but after tonight I expect my world to turn on its end more than a few times. Hopefully those I spoke to will find safety in their new havens, and perhaps they will have Dreams of their own to retreat to. As for me, after exploring the area around the Chapel, I have found a most mysterious mausoleum that I will explore more thoroughly. I hear unsettling sounds coming from underneath, and the secrets of the city might be found buried beneath it.           -H

Chapter Two: A Music Box and Red Ribbons

         What was it he said? If I like, I could imagine this all a bad dream? How I wish it were so. I have grown so accustomed to the metallic stench of blood that saturates this city that I can now smell more minute sources such as rotting flesh and… there is another smell hidden deep beneath this city that I can just barely make out. It is wrong, that is all I can discern. I pray that I never find its source, although I suppose I must, if I am to ever leave this Yharnam and return to my husband. I suppose by now the fog must have lifted and life has returned to normal for the rest of the world. Why is it then that I feel terror when I see the city gates far off in the distance?          I believe that I do desire this to be a fanciful dream, brought on by too many stories as a girl and too many nights at war. But if, as I suspect, this dream is all too real, then the brutality committed at my hands in the nights previous actually occurred. I do not remember as well as I should, but I do recall a great horned beast. I was filled with such savagery that in its death throes I tore into its chest. I held the beast’s beating heart in my hand and it… heavenly god, it saw me. There were eyes growing on the organ and, denied the relief of eyelids, they stared so that I might share in its madness. I must confess that I rather lost myself, but now I am recovered, and shall endeavor to keep this journal as a totem of sanity in this dream. My secret, please, do not abandon me. I fear this blood of mine.          -H

         Why will day not come? It seems so odd for me to awaken so often to a blood-engorged sun nestling between the Cathedral ramparts. Endless twilight, is that the curse I have inherited with this Hunter’s mark? To keep myself busy, I explored and filled myself with blood from the cityfolk I came across. I am not ashamed, this city is dangerous and the doll’s powers keep me strong enough to survive and move forward. I have found that several of those who live in Yharnam locked themselves away during the hunt. Terribly sensible, but their attitude towards me seems awfully unyielding. They barely see me, yet they know I am a Hunter, and this predisposes them towards hostility. They cackle behind closed doors, content to squander this night. I will not be so lackadaisical.          There was one whose security is appropriate, a young girl who has lost her mother and father. I spoke with her briefly and the poor thing is much the worse for wear. I believe the voice of another woman helped calm her, and after several minutes of conversation she told me that her father was a Hunter as I am. However, he seems to have succumbed to a sickness inherent in overuse of these blood arts, and the girl’s mother came with him to help bring him back to himself. However, it seems that in her hurry, the woman forgot a music box that helps this man remember his identity.  This brave young lady gave me the treasure and I have resolved myself to finding her parents. I hope that I will bring some measure of joy to this girl’s life.          I wonder if Matthew misses me? He must be an older man himself now, though I can scarcely believe it. What would he think of his dear mother now? No, I dare not think of such things lest I lose my nerve. I must move forward and grow stronger. I… I came here for a reason didn’t I? For now, I must find this girl’s father. After examining the music box, I found an inscription: Viola and Gascoigne. He cannot be far from here.         -H

         The blood is fresh in my mind, and it smells so sweet. I sit in a pool of it as I write in you, Yharnam blood seeping into me in a cascade. I am in a graveyard, just outside of the Cathedral Ward itself. This place, called the Tomb of Odeon, was where Gascoigne… Father Gascoigne, sought to remember himself. He failed though, didn’t he? The thing that I fought was a beast, a creature to be pitied, certainly, but not to be spared. Besides, he could no longer use his power in the state he was in.

         I have found an amulet with the name Viola inscribed on it. It rested in the torn bosom of a woman, I can only assume Father Gascoigne’s late wife. Foolish nit, to leave without this music box. It was most effective in the Hunt against her husband however, so I must thank her for her neglectful nature. Father Gascoigne recoiled at the sound of it, as though reminded of… his weakness. Looking at it, this amulet seems to be made of solidified blood and could be useful to a Hunter. Perhaps I could keep it? No, no, a promise is a promise. You must return this keepsake to their orphan.

         That poor girl. She has nothing now, and the night grows ever darker.          -H

         I cannot believe the words that I myself have penned. My secret, could it be that I said such callous things? Towards a cleric and his family no less. I am frightened of what this might mean. Is the blood so potent that my desire for it is pushing out my own humanity? I must keep myself within these pages, so that I will not forget. The graveyard is cold, as am I. It is filled with too many regrets. Had I but someone to speak with besides that foolish doll that talks of nothing but the Hunt! Curse her and Gehrman both. I must leave this place and return to the girl, she is surely waiting for me. But what will I tell her? I must be gentle and help guide her to safety. The Cathedral, surely, is a safe haven for those who seek it. It was such back home, it certainly is in Yharnam that is so respectful of its Healing Church. I will explore the Ward before returning to the girl and will hopefully bring good news.          -H

         I am in luck! A kind man who dwells within one of the chapels in the Ward has thought to fill the place to the brim with incense that keeps beasts away. He speaks so kindly to me; I am certain I can trust him despite any physical deformities he might have. How could I look down on him when I have spent so much of my life barely able to walk? I have good news at last, as he has offered his chapel to those in need of a haven. I am tempted to take him up on his offer myself, but the Hunt continues and I must bring word of this to the child.          -H

         I can still hear her sobbing, though I am as far away from her as I dare go. I cannot leave her, not in this state. She took the news of her father and mother rather… as one might expect. I cannot say I blame her. As soon as she is able I will personally take her to the chapel for safety. The city is so noisy during the Hunt. I can hear beasts prowling about and men doing the same. This is no place for a young girl, but I must not leave her here alone. What if it were Matthew, and I Gascoigne? I know that the Father would be happy to know that I am taking care of his daughter, even if in his final moments he was… not himself.          I cannot hear the girl’s crying any longer; perhaps she is ready to depart?          -H

         The girl has vanished. Please god let this be a bad dream.          -H

         I have returned to the Hunter’s Dream. While I know that my words will keep to this journal, I cannot bear to be awake. I sought the girl out, following her trail was easy enough. I almost wish I hadn’t. No, I wish I had lost her forever and assumed the worst rather than having my horrors confirmed tenfold. I tracked her to a tunnel leading to the graveyard near the chapel, as safe a place as could be. Except for the beast that dwelt inside. A boar, enormous with infection and madness, charged at me as soon as I came into its sights. Or perhaps it smelled me? It was a horrid creature, and god must have removed its sight long ago. I killed it, of course, such a thing could not be suffered to live. However, I wish that I hadn’t. Why did I go down that tunnel? Why did I speak to that girl in the first place? Why could I not have just left well enough alone! I cannot help but feel that I caused this… I found a ribbon, stained red by the pig’s entrails. A little girl’s ribbon.          How could I have thought myself powerful? I was a fool and this is the reward for my hubris. I slew this girl’s father, her mother died by his hand, and instead of keeping the truth to myself I told her! This is no dream. This is a nightmare. Yet, if this is real, then all my strength could not even save a little girl.          I must leave this Dream soon enough and awaken to this endless night. I must uncover what brought about the terror that caused all of this misery. I will keep her ribbon with me, so that I will never forget. I must not, whatever happens, I must not forget the sound of that poor girl’s sobs.

         Oh, god help me, I never asked her name.         -H

Chapter One: Entering Yharnam, The Cleric Beast, and My Restoration

          The nightmares grow worse; it is rare that I can discern wakefulness and fitful sleep. The calling led me true however, and I have found myself in Yharnam. I say found, as I cannot say precisely the moment when I crossed the city gates into this darkened place. Arriving just past noon, I was surprised to see the sun quickly begin to fall behind the cathedral that features so strongly in this part of the city. Inquiry proved fruitless, the locals were unhelpful as they were strange. Speaking of the Hunt, and of the dangers of night. Had they known with whom they spoke I suspect they would not have been so concerned, but still, I suppose these years I wear must provide some respite from danger.           I did hear of a gentleman who might be of assistance in my quest, Gerhman they call him. I will seek him out and find the truth of this city and begin my hunt to… Umbasa, now that it comes to it why did I come here? Curse this fog. It is strange though, those in this city seem to believe the fog a relic of long ago. I must to Gerhman, shadows grow unnaturally fast in this place and I must find lodging after my meeting. Who knows, maybe the church will show hospitality to an old temple knight-captain.           -H

          My secret, what has become of me? I find you in my coat pocket, and so I know you must be real. This must be real, and if this is so, then the nightmares have been visions and not imaginings of a failing mind. It also means, oh, my hand trembles more than ever now that I have no reason to anymore. My body is restored. 

          I look at those words and fail to grasp their meaning, yet here I stand, strong as I was fifty years ago. Stronger even. Gerhman did something to me, blood ministration he called it, and I had such horrible visions of wolves and fetal creatures groping at me. Just before I lost consciousness I heard a woman’s voice: “So you’ve found yourself a Hunter.” I commit it to you, my secret, before I forget again.           I woke, or thought I did, and was murdered by a monstrous wolfen creature. How I ached when death came! Then, darkness cleared. I found myself in a peaceful graveyard with a life size doll staring back at me. Her eyes make me shutter, even now. As though there was a life behind them, waiting for some signal to awaken. I hesitate to venture beyond this sanctuary, but I feel in my deepest part that the answers I seek lie beyond. I have been given the choice of a weapon; I chose the battle-axe, what I was known for all those years ago. This weapon is as much a feat of machination as it is an instrument of death: I will have to examine it further at some later time. For now, the hunt awaits… no, my search begins.           -H

          There is something great at work here, I am certain of it. The power I feel in my blood, it aches as though seeking to explode from my very veins. Each hapless villager that I bring to ruin, I feel myself growing stronger. My wounds close as if in reward to my ferocity. I have truly returned to the battlefield! If my husband could see me now, why he might feel some passion for once. Enough scribbling, the Hunt continues and I must seek my answers.           -H

          I write having returned to the respite of the graveyard. I found and slew a great beast. The battle was fierce, but I prevailed. As his blood entered my own I examined the husk of the creature and found a crest similar to that of a clergyman’s. Perhaps this is the power the blood affords us? If it can do so much, it is no doubt that the people of Yharnam were unaffected by the mists. The Hunts cull the weak, and the blood feeds the strong. I feel as though I have come home. Yet, something in that doll’s words concern me… oh, yes, the doll lives. Of course it does, did I not say as such previously? It speaks quite sensibly, but it knows nothing of the outside world. My questions are answered with silence or talk of the Hunt.           Gerhman is little better, the man is clearly mad. Nevertheless, they have been helpful, and the doll’s tending has strengthened me further. It knows secrets of the blood that only I can dream of, and perhaps I am! This graveyard is so strangely silent after the screams and the bells of Yharnam. It seems almost unnatural. I must explore further, there are things hidden that hold the answers I seek. I know there must be. The Hunt continues, my dear secret, and I relish in it. I am alive again! I am a Hunter!

          -H

Prologue: The Journal

          It is night again, and the Hunt resumes. Nightmares walk the streets of Yharnam and you, arrogant fool that you are, walk among them. You Hunt for the blood, praying for the nightmares to end so that one day you might not dream of this place with your every waking moment. A rough encounter has left you dazed, unsettled, but then again what doesn’t in this city? You stumble against a loose brick and you hear the fluttering of wings. A familiar sound that makes you turn your head to see the offending object is not a trampled pigeon, but rather a book. A journal, the leather cover grown soft after heavy use and rife with pages. Many of these pages are uniform: a rough papyrus no better than pulp, however, some are larger. You see maps amidst the entries, descriptions of artifacts and the locations of deadly traps. This journal is a godsend, and it will keep you safe on your Hunt. You hurriedly make your way to the shelter of an abandoned home, one that you know well.           Butterfly wallpaper that has sloughed off and bubbled with moisture decorates the walls, revealing crevices with corpses and worse hiding within. You are used to such horrors and worse, and the thought weighs on you like a lodestone, carrying you night after night from safety back into danger. You set the journal carefully on a table and open it slowly. It is written in a steady and practiced hand with careful and neat script, you note with surprise at how few of the pages are spoiled with ink. The wind, or what you hope is the wind, roars outside. You set a fire in the hearth, and, with a careful and wary eye, you begin to read.

          There is a ringing in my ears, the tone of a bell that calls… calls incessantly. I know it to be nonsense and pay it no heed. Yet, how beautiful the music that follows me into my sleep night after night. This great house, so once full of a melody that I called family, is now silent. My dear husband, he whispers what he can, but the doctors do not hope that he will ever sing as he once did. It falls to me to maintain the estate until our children see fit to return. It has been so long since they left, and the fog rolled in soon after so that I can scarce recall how long it has been. This thick, colorless fog saps at my memory, and I hear from the hawkers down the street (my hearing is still quite well, despite my years) that Boletaria has indeed been consumed. These are dark times, and yet, I cannot recall a time when mists did not envelop us and my husband sits mute and disheveled. I must say that I have found this writing to be of a therapeutic nature, and so I will be returning to you, my dear secret, next time I am afforded the ink and minutes to do so.           -H

          I was not always a wife, you know? I do love my husband dearly, but as I see our soldiers marching off into the mists to an unknown fate, I am reminded of my time as a warrior. I laugh at the memories now, but back then they were a different matter.  We were at war, and the King needed soldiers. I was the firstborn of a noble family, now forgotten as so much else is, and as I could not inherit the estate… well, I was always good with a blade; even as a girl. I took a commission and quickly rose to the rank of Captain, I still have my medals somewhere in this dusty old house. How I wish the maid would clean instead of whiling away the hours day-dreaming, but I digress, I was a warrior and a leader of men and women. We were brave against the dangers of the world and fought valiantly against the unnatural forces that I hear even now encroach upon our city gates. I remember the smell of demon blood more clearly than the smell of my firstborn’s hair; in fact, unless I am mistaken they smelled very much the same. That cannot be right, but there it is.           Ah, but the bell calls once more, it is louder now more than ever, and I am plagued by heavy dreams. My husband tells me it is nothing, a mere obfuscation brought about by the imbalance of the humors. I tell him that such things are nonsense, of course. The Soul Arts are long, long gone and we are left with our own abysmal knowledge of the human body. I saw what good leeches would do a man sick with fever, I saw the grim smiles that those Doctors wore behind their beaks as they ministered like vultures preparing their own maggoty feast. I saw, but as I was not General nor King, I said nothing. Not even when their foul workings left my legs barely able to support me after the birth of my sweet Matthew.           I was discharged swiftly afterwards with honors and a sweet smile. I would have preferred to be lamed by a sword than by a baby and a Doctor’s scalpel.           What luck you have, my dear secret, the watch returns! Fewer today than even yesterday, and the soldiers who have come back look far the worse for wear. They will have to rotate patrols again tomorrow, mark my words. How can one combat a fog? Especially when sometimes I forget even that I should be fighting.           I fear for my children.           -H

          We are to be evacuated. As I am often too weary to walk for long and my husband suffers much the same we are to be taken as part of a caravan leaving for the west. Our maid has gone mad and we were forced to take measures to contain her. I do hope that she keeps Matthew’s room tidy, at the very least. The bells are louder still, and it is all I can do but follow them now into sleep as I write. My husband grows weary and calls for me, but I am loath to answer him. It shames me to see the two of us in such squalor and to look upon him is to be reminded of this. I have no doubt he feels the same when he sees me, I do not blame him.  My dear secret, I am so tired of running.           -H

          I write having woken from a nightmare. A name lingers in my mind and I hasten to commit it to paper lest it slip from me: Yharnam. I must not forget.           -H

          I will run no more. The bells call me and I will answer. Perhaps a sign might be found in these ever-vivid dreams. I hear stories of a city possessing of blood rites that might restore the mind and body beyond what even Soul Arts could perform. I have placed my husband in the care of those who will be kind to him. I… said my goodbyes just ten minutes ago. He barely recognized me. I will do whatever it takes to keep myself whole and to return my husband to my side. I care not for these bells; I would much rather his baritone rumbling in my ears as I drifted off, not to these nightmares but to sweet dreams full of happier times. I am resolved, and will take what supplies I may and separate from the caravan. Tomorrow I journey to Yharnam.           -H