As the group hustled onward to their destination, Adelicia’s delicate condition made itself plainly apparent – doubly so when contrasted to the near endless vigor of the hunters. Cheeks aflush, she attempted to keep up with them as best she could but they, inevitably, had to further slow their pace to accommodate their charge. Physical exercise was a thing she hardly ever had partaken in, with the vast majority of her preceding years spent in isolated studies, musky lecturing halls and, indeed, half-conscious on laboratory seats. Even simple, menial tasks like washing and cooking were taken care of for her and she had hardly needed to lift a finger for anything. While afforded to her at a great cost to her humanity, this luxury now became her burden as her knees buckled beneath her.

When finally the group arrived near the clinic – not that Adelicia recognized the building by its exterior appearance – she all but collapsed onto her staff, leaning more heavily against it than she had earlier, wheezing for breath. The voice of regret questioned her decision to decline being carried, after all. Whilst doubtlessly undignified, perhaps it would have been the more prudent choice given her appalling condition. Wiping the sweat from her brow on the sleeve of her robe, she steadied herself just enough to take in the environs in the first place.

Although the unassuming structure ahead of them appeared to be what they had came for, it was not the clinic that attracted her gaze initially. Instead, she felt drawn to gaze upon the ruined vistas of Old Yharnam: an apocalyptic still life that hid a teeming hive of vengeful pariahs and blighted beasts. The scorched remains of the old city told a long and tragic story. One of a malignant disease cured by the uncaring flame, of a population culled twice and of survivors made into refugees and outcasts in their own homes. It was a story that Yharnam should never be allowed to repeat. That was Adelicia’s wish; and her blood would be the key to make it so.

“I take it,” she addressed the hunters, her throat feeling quite parched, “we’ve arrived? This clinic is humbler than I had thought.”

Slowly shuffling over to them, it was only then that she realized the incense burner lay cold by the open door. Naïve as she was to the ways of the world, even she realized that this could hardly be construed as a good omen. And when a worrying soundscape escaped from within that yawning doorway, her face grew paler yet.

“Are we too late?”