[h3]Ancient Yharnam, ancient Pthumeru[/h3]

"It is not, no... not unless you are willing to spend numerous cycles trying to get there, anyway," the Herald replied to Farren's inquiry about reaching Queen Yharnam. He walked past the Hunters and over to where he had been standing earlier, glancing uncomfortably at his own smoldering, headless corpse, which was still there, filling the room with the unpleasant smell of burnt hair and flesh. Then he turned back and looked at them again. 

"That medallion of yours was enough to convince the Shadows to let you into the palace, but it certainly won't be enough to let you get near her during labor. They are fiercely protective of her; not even I am allowed there."

He sighed. "But a lot of questions have been raised, and a lot of answers have yet to be given. Telling you why I think we can end the Nightmare will likely have to be at the end of this conversation since there is a small chance that a certain someone might catch on to what I want to do, so that will have to wait. The key..." He turned his attention back to Ophelia. "You only need the key as the Sealing Mask is already on something and you need to remove it. Who is wearing the mask?"

Farren glanced at Ophelia meaningfully, wetting his lips. Was it truly wise to tell this 'Herald' anything of the current state of affairs in the Waking World? Would telling him the truth here mean he'd be less likely to aid them? Farren didn't know.

He didn't like it, but it also seemed that this version of Harold had a great deal of insight. It was possible that the shade might divine the lie as a matter of course. Yet...if he knew their minds so well, why even ask? He gritted his teeth, suddenly having the intense desire to cut or shoot something. Such things seemed so much...easier...so much more enticing.

Farren's gaze flicked to Gerlinde. To the blood on her blades, to the suddenness of her violence. He gave her a nod, understanding perhaps a fraction of her seemingly constant desire for chaos and carnage. To move with the flow of destructive violence and the thrill of the hunt was most certainly an easier path, one of less resistance. Worryingly easy. Farren took a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing his fingers to relax with a strangely pneumatic [i]hss[/i].

[color=#007FFF][b]“Why do you want this nightmare over so badly? Beyond the obvious frustration and potential madness of so many loops. Beyond your so-called compassion for the Nightmare's occupants.”[/b][/color] A question for a question. Perhaps his open wariness and suspicion might remind Ophelia that simply giving this being information could later exact a terrible consequence.

The Herald shot Farren a look of bewilderment. "That, mostly... that seems like an extremely good reason to me." He shrugged. "But if that is not enough for you, it would also end the torment of those in the Waking World suffering from it. Nightmares like this one that have firm roots in true events tend to echo across worlds and haunt the living. For instance, though he is likely not aware himself, I am certain that your Harold is tortured by me reliving the fall of Pthumeru infinitely. And yes, to you that may be an argument against ending the Nightmare owing to your apparent dislike of me and the Golden One - which you still haven't explained - but you have made it through Yharnam several times by now. You have seen how densely the streets are populated. You have seen the Great Ones coming when Mergo does not survive his birth. All of them represent someone else in the Waking World suffering from this Nightmare, too."

[color=#007FFF][b]“...and this serves your Master how?”[/b][/color] Farren replied, unsatisfied and undeterred. He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the man.

"Serves... what?" The Herald shook his head in disbelief. "The Golden One? It doesn't, besides the fact that he also has an echo trapped here and that he doesn't want us, let alone [I]many thousands of innocents[/I], to suffer eternally!"

Farren's jaw clenched and his suspicion remained clear, but he did not push it further. Clearly this would lead nowhere. His gaze slid to Ophelia briefly, then he turned his back on the Herald, casting his gaze the way they had come. [i]'Play at kindness then. No one is innocent. Not really. Except perhaps the children.'[/i]

And there would be countless children in the city. His shoulders sank slightly, [color=#007FFF][b]“Fine. Let's say I believe you. The Vicar we encountered cared little regarding 'Mercy' or 'Justice.' Perhaps you are different, untouched by whatever your… true self endured from the time of Pthumeru unto the present day. Should we end this Nightmare… and free you in the process. Whatever we have told you...likely will go to him. Seeing that he is...not our ally, why–pray tell–should we divulge the details of our quest to you?”[/b][/color]

He didn't turn around to catch the man's expression, he didn't care to see the Herald's loathsome face, nor to recall the horrid violation the memories said face drew up within his consciousness.

The Herald's eyes widened in shock. "By the gods," he murmured breathlessly, "what happened in the Waking World? What did Harold and the Golden One do to make you hate them like this?" He shook his head incredulously. "Of course time may have shaped Harold to be different, just as this Nightmare may have changed me, but... I'm sorry, but I struggle to imagine any version of me or my Lord being as callous as you seem to think they are."

Farren's eyes hardened, but he said nothing further, the image of Victor's altered...ensorcelled form bubbling up from the tar of his hatred for the Vicar. He looked away after a moment, too beset by emotion and harried by a quiet impotent rage to speak further.

Ophelia watched with interest as Farren's discontent boiled over and spilled forth. She did not begrudge him his outburst in the slightest, after what they'd suffered... after what he'd suffered specifically. The Herald's exasperation and incredulity fascinated her, too, as she truly believed that he was sincere in his empathy for these people... and for their faith in the Golden One. Trapped here in this moment, they did not ever get a chance to experience the profound betrayal the Golden One had inflicted upon them all. 

"... Your lord intends to betray us all, I fear. He already betrayed everyone in this Nightmare, because it is he who kills the Divine Queen. She is the one holding back the Blood Moon even now, as I'm sure you've gathered over the centuries. You see, there are tiers of Great One. Your master is what is known as a "kin" Great One--and he is the herald of the true Great One known as Cael, the Lord of Ascension. The Golden One awakens his master, who reclaims the rampant Old Blood, and all of this suffers the same fate as Isz... which he no doubt betrayed as its last king to become a Kin Great One." Ophelia explained, trying to find a mix between honesty and pragmatism. She did not want to give everything away, but... even if it haunted them in the Waking World, she could not bear the thought of all of these people suffering this Nightmare any longer.

"Firstly, you don't need to explain the Golden One to me, of all people," the Herald told Ophelia. His tone did not suggest that he felt insulted or irritated at her presumption of him not knowing, only concern. "And secondly, but more importantly... no, before that, where did you even hear this? Is that how what happened here is remembered? Gods help me..." He shook his head, accidentally looked at his own corpse again and idly shuffled a sideways step away from it.

"There is an element of truth to what you said, but the details are all wrong. Yes, the Golden One is a Kin Great One; yes, Queen Yharnam is the one that holds back the Nightmare and tames the blessing... and yes, I suppose my Lord is technically the one that has 'killed' the queen. But the Golden One is quite content with his place in the world, and desires only to fulfill the role given to him by Cael: to guide mortals on their path toward ascension. He killed the queen only by virtue of me - and by extension my Lord - guiding her on her pursuit of conceiving a Divine Heir, having the child of a Great One. We wanted to help her, and my Lord only calls Cael after it becomes clear that Queen Yharnam's death has left Pthumeru's blessing entirely out of control."

Ophelia listened to the Herald's reply with rapt attention, voracious for any more knowledge on what truly happened here. Even if she felt an inclination towards mistrusting him, she could not fathom any reason that he would actively lie to them when they had already promised their unconditional aid... but there were many things simply beyond her ken.

"Ours is a benighted time, Herald, and so little survives. We..." she began, but immediately felt a pang of uncertainty as to whether or not she should reveal their nature as Dreamers--and the existence of the Dream that his lord was trying to usurp from them... she sighed audibly before conceding that it was important enough she could not skirt around it. 

"Ugh, I don't know how much it is safe to reveal to you... and we emphatically cannot trust your Waking World counterpart for a great many reasons. But I suppose our choices are rather limited... first, let me ask this: what do you know of Venara?"

"Venara, also known as the Moon Presence, is the Great Champion," the Herald readily divulged. "Until this night it hadn't interacted with the Waking World much at all, it just travels the Nightmare looking for strong opponents to fight. That is also what brings it here in a few minutes: because a number of other Great Ones are drawn to the city, Venara will come to challenge them."

Ophelia nodded, very interested in this particular bit of knowledge, giving herself a few extra seconds to mull things over after he finished speaking. "In our time she is dead. She died during our most recent Blood Moon, where time itself fractured as thousands of concurrent realities... smashed together, I suppose, is the only way I can describe it... but she left a legacy behind, a Dream. Some mortals are born with something we call 'Paleblood', and if they become Hunters they awaken to this Dream and become anchored to it, such that when they die in the Waking World they simply return to the Dream. Populating this Dream are... little helpers, I suppose I would call them. They traverse the various realms of Nightmare and find scraps of information--and are eager to help the Dreamers... much of our knowledge comes from them. I am one such Dreamer." Ophelia followed up, pausing a moment for the Herald to react before she divulged anything further--though she could not help but feel her stomach lurch. She was crossing a threshold it was impossible to return from, and still did not know if what she was doing was right.

"Is that so? Fascinating." The Herald stared at Ophelia intently, then cocked his head. "The blood in you feels like it belongs to Flora, though, not Venara."

"You're right; if I'm honest, that's something of a gap in our knowledge. We are putting pieces together as best as we can, but... I lack your tremendous insight. Even with the assistance of whatever it is that speaks through my blade. What... do you know of Flora? Was she around at this time? I had always assumed that she was Venara's successor."

"Flora is around now, and she has been around for aeons," the Herald chuckled, "though like Venara, people of this era aren't too familiar with her. She is the Great Dreamer, and she also travels the Nightmare, but she does so looking for stray thoughts, feelings and memories, not challenges."

Ophelia visibly relaxed at the Herald's explanation, seemingly comforted by what she was hearing, before her expression darkened. "I am glad to be her child. The Golden One is trying to usurp this Dream, and so has made us his enemies. He has invaded our thoughts, tried to turn our memories of our loved ones against us, harmed and dominated our friends and allies... thrown us into the realms of Nightmare as pawns to be consumed. I suppose we do not know any of the true motivations behind what he does and have made assumptions as best as we could based on the information we have--but I fear he was never the gentle patriarch he had made himself out to be. I fear for what he wants for our world, Herald, and for us... but we haven't the time to explore all of that. The Sealing Mask--it is currently on the queen. Not Yharnam, another who has survived to our time."


This made the Herald frown. "Usurp this Dream? That doesn't make sense, why would he do that when he already has his own realm of the Nightmare?" He shook his head. "I suppose that explains why all of you except Riccas and you -" He pointed at Farren. "- are warded so that I couldn't even project my voice to you outside. I can only imagine that they had a good reason for it. We do have the ability to exert influence, but I can't imagine us using that power maliciously. Even if we did try to manipulate you, I'm sure we had good reason..." His eyes widened. "You are here to stop Obcasus, you said. I know of the Worldbreaker and what kind of a threat it poses. Surely Harold and the current Golden One would be rather desperate to stop its awakening, too?"

Ophelia shrugged at the Herald's first few sentences. "I suspect the Golden One's realm of Nightmare cannot be used to make effectively immortal Hunters, like Flora's Dream... but I truly couldn't speak to his motivations: only what we've seen and what he's said. Yes, the Harold of our time sent us to stop Obcasus--but this is where our goals diverge, it seems... but we cannot defeat the immortal heading this ritual, as she simply... reforms when slain, and the ritual proceeds anew. The Sealing Mask is the only thing I can think of to stop her, even if it means freeing the current occupant."

"Motivation seems important to me, but if you say so. Saving the Waking World and everyone in it seems like a pretty good reason to go get desperate," the Herald shrugged. He turned to his right and walked five steps over to a small round, wooden table, which had a small wooden case sitting on top of it. He quickly flipped its lid open - it had a keyhole, but was apparently already unlocked - then walked back to his initial position again. "The keys to our Sealing Masks are in there, just pick the right one... or take all of them, I suppose. I don't mind."

"You're right: motivation [i]is[/i] important... and there is so much we don't know. My sword offers me protection from eldritch influences: I will ask it to allow you to communicate with me--that way, we should at least be able to communicate when the loop resets. I would earnestly welcome the chance to understand the Golden One's motivations more." Ophelia said, curtseying to the Herald and nodding her head in thanks as he revealed the keys they sought. She walked over to give the inside of the container a look and would attempt to identify which of the keys was right--if she could not do so by sight alone, she would ask her blade, and if that still didn't produce an answer she would take them all.

"I want to make the right decisions. To avoid the mistakes of the past that led us all to this dark time, to truly understand what is at stake... to that end, I will try to be open. I pray Mother Moon grants me the guidance to deliver me unto the truth, and to avoid deception that would steer me awry." Ophelia sighed, suddenly looking rather weary. It occurred to her that she hadn't slept in what felt as long as she could remember, though the weariness was less physical than that, and she awaited the Herald's reply with one (or several) key(s).

"[I]The protection cannot simply be removed at will, Champion, and it is technically not from your sword,[/I]" the voice replied to the mention of having it allow the Herald to communicate with her telepathically. "[I]The protection is from the Truth Rune, just as it is from the Mask Rune for Gerlinde and Torquil. You would have to replace the rune to remove the protection.[/I]"

"So you've found a way to place words of the Great Ones in your minds at will?" the Herald breathed with great interest. "Fascinating."

As Ophelia arrived at the case, she would find that it contained a set of three keys, each elaborate, decorative and distinct in its own way. Even without further guidance she would get a pretty good idea which one out of the three was the best aesthetic match for Queen Annalise's mask, but even so the voice still chimed in: "[I]It is the one on the left.[/I]"

[i]Ah; I thought that since the power of the basin in the Halls of the Old Lords could be allowed through, perhaps something similar could occur here too...[/i] Ophelia thought, though her eye twitched a little at the idea of the Herald being able to intrude on her thoughts so readily and through so many layers of protection. 

"They are called Caryll Runes, named for the person who... well, "discovered" is the wrong word I suppose. Harnessed them." she spoke as she picked up the correct key. She then thought better of leaving the other two keys on the proverbial table and took those as well. 

"So: finding Tempus. I can't imagine we have long left in this loop, so perhaps the rest of our time should be dedicated to that."

Again the Herald shot a quick sidelong glance at Torquil, only to immediately refocus on Ophelia. "That discussion won't take long, it can wait," he claimed. "But if you have nothing more to discuss, I do have one thing. You... with gray hair at too young an age... sadly your eyes have changed, so I can't confirm their color..." He cocked his head. "Would you happen to be called Ophelia?"

With a nod of his head, the Herald turned away and walked over to one of the nearby bookshelves. "It was many, many cycles ago now, but I met your parents. They were from the Waking World and got trapped here, too, and came here in search of a way out. They were quite desperate to get back to you. I don't know what happened to them; the last thing I knew of was that they went in search of the Great Serpent and then disappeared. They may have succeeded and returned to the Waking World... or they may not. Regardless, they left something with me in case they failed."

The Herald turned around, withdrawing an object from among the books that - as soon as it was revealed, but not before - seemed to conjure a number of orbiting guidance sprites: a silver pendant of some kind. "They told me to give it to you if you ever had the misfortune of ending up here, and made me promise to do everything in my power to help you get out."

Ophelia stumbled a little at the Herald's reply, having to catch herself on the table as she sucked in a deep breath. Growing up without her parents, she had always wondered what had happened to them--she had been young enough and their family isolated enough that she hadn't been introduced to the concept of death. It had only been years later that she had realised that was most likely what'd happened to them: but to hear that they'd ended up here of all places... 

"I... heh, I don't know what to say... They never returned to the Waking World, to the best of my knowledge. I haven't seen them since I was a girl, gods, it must be more than twenty years now..." she barely managed to speak, trying (and failing) not to cry. She stashed the key away safely before she accepted the pendant with a trembling hand, inspecting it both out of desperate curiosity and so she did not have to look at anybody else while she wept.

"Thank you, Herald. I had always wondered..." she began, but found herself unable to finish whatever the thought might have been.

"Don't mention it, I'm just keeping a promise," he told her nonchalantly, taking a respectful step backward and away from her to give her some space. "I'm sorry I couldn't help them."
Now that she had gotten a closer look at it, Ophelia would likely notice that the silver pendant was actually a small locket, with its exterior decorated with tiny scrolling that invoked the aesthetic style of Cainhurst. She might even have some vague recollection of having seen her father wearing such a necklace once upon a time.

Meanwhile Gerlinde, having lost interest in what was happening, squatted over Riccas' corpse, grabbed his flail and started searching his pockets.

Though it was difficult with only one hand, Ophelia fiddled with the locket enough to find its opening mechanism and triggered it, curious as to what might be inside. Dim recollections of the silvery glint of it on her father's chest amid dim candlelight flickered in her mind, and she could almost hear the lilting melody of one of her mother's lullabies in her mind. Some wary part of her wondered if it was some trick, like she might have expected of the modern-day Harold, but it was quickly drowned out by waves of old, settled grief and still-roiling curiosity.
Inside the locket, which opened without issue, Ophelia found that it contained a small photograph - one that looked almost brand new and not at all how one would expect something like this to look after having had a couple of decades to fade - of her parents, one arm around each other, smiling at her. On the inside of the cover, meanwhile, she found that someone had used a sharp tool of some kind to scratch the silver... leaving behind a Hunter's Mark.

A warm smile crept across her face as she looked at the photo of her parents, glad to have some visual record of them after all this time. She'd almost forgotten what they'd looked like, it had been so long--and as she daubed her eyes with her sleeve she caught the light glinting from the engraved mark and studied that. She thought it a deeply curious thing to leave behind in a memento, especially for a life that it seemed her parents had wanted to leave behind. She couldn't help but wonder whether it or the photo had come first, and that if it had been left for her, if it was meant to convey some sort of message that was not immediately obvious.

"Now, with that out of the way..." The Herald licked his lips nervously. "I hope it can't understand what I'm saying, but the reason I think we have a chance to end the Nightmare is that the Great Serpent is here. In the room. Right now." He nodded in Torquil's direction. "Somewhere on that strapping fellow's person."

Ophelia finished fiddling with the memento and hastily slipped the chain of the locket around her neck, tucking the pendant beneath the clothing there. "I suppose if I were going to pick a person to find shelter on, there are few better than Torquil here... while we're here in the palace, I do have another quick question: the Divine Queen's bloodblade--might we find that nearby? I've only just thought of it," Ophelia replied, daubing her eyes and cheeks a final time with her sleeve as she sniffled a little and composed herself properly.

"You might, technically," the Herald confirmed hesitantly, "but not practically. The queen has the Bloodblade with her at all times, and since the Shadows won't let anyone near her..." He shrugged.

"It was worth a shot, at least." Ophelia nodded, content with the answer. Another trip to the Interstice it was, then, after all of the other things on their ever-growing checklist. "... Did my father tell you about Queen Annalise? I'm sorry for the sudden burst of questions, but if this is our last chance..."

"He did not, no. Your parents were rather too preoccupied with trying to discover a means of escaping the Nightmare to engage in much idle chatter, especially considering how much more they had to struggle to survive consecutive civilization-ending Blood Moons." The Herald seemed to ponder for a moment. "I did observe that your father was a distant relative to Queen Yharnam, but he brushed the comment aside claiming that it didn't matter. But..." His eyes widened. "If your queen is imprisoned in a Sealing Mask... are people forcefully tapping her blood? Is that how you have the Blessing?"

"He left that life behind, I gather, I suppose it makes sense he would be reticent. Not forcefully, no, willingly--she offered us the sacrament of her blood freely. I accepted it because... well, I have a familial connection. I think it was only Gerlinde and I that partook, though... Farren here has some remnant of Queen Ihyll's gift, we gather, from his eyes. Perhaps a distant relation of Riccas?"

The Herald blinked confusedly. "I sense a faint hint of the royal blood on you, yes, but that's not what I meant. Like Riccas, all four of you bear the Blessing that gives you superhuman abilities. Your parents had a less potent version of the Blessing, and you also bear the blood of Great Ones, but you all have the Blessing of the royal blood. Surely that would come from your queen?"

"Ah--yes, sorry. We... don't call it the Blessing in our time. We call it being made a Hunter. I'm... afraid I don't know the provenance of that blood. There is a force called the Healing Church that offers blood ministrations, able to cure otherwise incurable diseases with the Old Blood... and render people Hunters. The modern-day Harold leads the Healing Church, though only since our own Blood Moon happened... a few years ago. They've been around since I was a girl, and were still getting blood then, I gather. I... never stopped to wonder where from until now." Ophelia replied, suddenly extremely interested in this line of questioning.

"Hunter? Old Blood?" The Herald just stood there staring blankly into space for a moment before abruptly and briskly nodding his head. "Now I understand, thank you, whatever you are. So what you call 'Hunters' in your time I would call 'Champions' here, like Riccas and Arrayah. And your 'Old Blood' is what I call the 'Blessing'. Your parents weren't Hunters, but they had a weaker variant of the Old Blood. It's curious that you don't know where it comes from; in this time, everyone knew that the Old Blood came from the royal family."

"... I know that scholars ventured deep into the Interstice and "discovered" the Old Blood... most of Pthumeru suffers the fate of Isz, and is subsumed into what we call the Old Labyrinth... so they must have found a member of the royal family down there, and must be tapping their blood, then?"

The Herald shrugged. "It's possible, though they could also just have discovered the source that bestowed the Old Blood on the royal family in the first place."

"I wonder what that is... Cael? Oedon? It seems like it must be a Great One, or... their corpse. Fascinating... and terrifying. The Eldritch Truth beckons us like moths to a flame, doesn't it..?" Ophelia replied, losing herself for a few seconds in contemplation before she snapped back to attention. "... do you know what lumenflowers are?"

The Herald cocked his head. "I do not. Why?"

"The modern-day Harold grows them in the cathedral. He invited me to view them with him when they bloom under the full moon. I... will think of you when I go to look at them, that's all. Thank you for everything, Herald. You have given me much to think about, and... I will re-evaluate my feelings on the version of you that survived to our time. If there is anything of you left in him, perhaps our fractured relationship might heal. Unless anyone else has any questions, I think I'm ready."

Farren eyed Torquil, who despite the revelation, had remained silent. They'd need to investigate that soon, he gathered, but before then....

His gaze shifted to the Herald, [color=#007FFF][b]“The source of the Old Blood...your... 'Blessing' as you call it. Do you know it?”[/b][/color]

The Herald shook his head regretfully. "That was before my Lord's time; he was the Last King of Isz, not the first one, so the royal family had already carried the Old Blood for generations by the time the Golden One ascended."

Farren nodded his understanding, accepting the answer. Either the Herald lied to conceal that ancient, endlessly valuable secret, or he told the truth and they remained where they had started. [color=#007FFF][b]“That leaves me with only one question then. Torquil and I imbibed the Old Blood...but what we were given was in some way...tampered with. Impure.”[/b][/color]

He grit his teeth slightly, still not entirely convinced that the Herald was truly any different from his present day counterpart. Still...the man had been forthright with them, eminently helpful, and had not sought to control them...even though he and Torquil had no real protection against his influence. Only these facts and the potentially dire consequences that could result from their repeated entrance into the Hunter's Dream pushed him to continue.

[color=#007FFF][b]“When he or I enter the Hunter's Dream–the Nightmare wherein Venara once dwelled–it disturbs the place in some way. Sometimes...the blood writhes and changes us,”[/b][/color] Farren raised one of his mutated arms to serve as an example, [color=#007FFF][b]“Other times the Dream's weather simply changes...or we suddenly find a random item on our person that was not there before.”[/b][/color]

He shifted where he stood, frowning as his eyes cast downwards in thought, [color=#007FFF][b]“It seems...that it may even summon Wraiths or Kin to prey upon us.”[/b][/color] Farren lifted his gaze after a moment and with severity in his now intensely glowing eyes, finally asked his question. [color=#007FFF][b]“Might you know why? Or...better still, have you any inkling that might purify us of such a malady without the consequence of death or separation from Venara's Dream?”[/b][/color]

"Oh, you mean you don't know?" The Herald sounded and looked quite surprised at this revelation. He pointed to Ophelia and Gerlinde. "You two have the blood of Flora in you, but you two," he indicated Farren and Torquil, "bear the blood of the Golden One. You were favored by different gods, and given that my Lord's goals and his allegiance to the Lord of Ascension, I can imagine why his blessing would cause chaotic changes as those you describe. The Old Blood itself is already a fount of change; an incredible force of untapped potential. The Golden One's blood would likely enable you to tap into that potential much more... and make the innate power of change of the Old Blood that much more... active. He is - or at least was, since by the sound of it your relationship has rather soured - most likely trying to guide you toward ascension."

"That's the thing... we never had a relationship. Not one that we knew about... the Healing Church recruits Hunters--those who are sick, like me, as Flora's Paleblood manifests as a wasting disease (or did in my case, at least)... or those who are desperate. Modern-day Yharnam is beset by the same plague of beasts that took Isz and Pthumeru, so recruiting Hunters is necessary. Vicar Harold gave them the blood of the Golden One--'false Paleblood', he called it--and... some forty others, I think it was? Only Farren and Torquil survived. The entire thing was rooted in deception and manipulation... hence why our relationship soured. The Harold of the modern day... he uses some sort of arcane influence to make people think he's a kindly old man. I was immune to it from the get-go, but the others..." Ophelia explained, ending in a shudder. She did not remember those times fondly, and was struck by an odd sort of sorrow. If Harold had been like the Herald... things would have been very different.

Farren stared, caught flatfooted by the information, and even took a half step back. After a moment his frown became a scowl, [color=#007FFF][b]“Favored? I…”[/b][/color] he laughed, but there was no joy in it, only bitter humor.

[color=#007FFF][b]“I submitted to blood healing to escape such an influence…if my fragmented memories hold true. Yet he only gave me more…and held my mind in a state of artificial, unwanted reverie, tainting my own choices with the eldritch influence of the so-called Lord of Providence.”[/b][/color] It was a miracle that he hadn’t called Ego ‘the Golden Bastard’ right to his Herald’s face.

Farren forced himself to breathe, closing his eyes, reining in his rage. He had to remind himself that it was not [i]this[/i] man, not really, who had done this to him. [color=#007FFF][b]“If I could keep myself…my wits…my freedom, I might embrace such an ascension, if only to carry out what must be done. But I cannot.”[/b][/color]

The Herald nodded his head slowly. "Influence... like I just exerted on the people outside?" He gestured back out the door they had entered through, symbolically indicating the crowd that had parted to allow them to enter. "I - or we, if you want to consider us separate people - have that power, yes. I understand how that can be upsetting, of course... but what did he make you do?"

"I wasn't subject to his influence, so I fear I've no right to speak on the matter as if I was... but I think it is the principle. That he sought to rob us of agency and use us as pawns, instead of... just asking for our help. You asked for our help and we gave it freely, but to be denied the chance to make our own choices... what truly soured our relationship is that he exerted this control over a friend of ours. A Hunter who'd helped us when we awakened after the ministration... Harold put this gilded spider-like thing on his head and took him from himself... and that I find utterly unforgiveable. That, and we freed a rather powerful Hunter from his influence, one that I gather must have been key to his plans." Ophelia replied, her expression darkening to a scowl as she remembered what had happened to Victor... though none of it was aimed at the Herald, and she quickly reverted to her usual small smile.

Ophelia's words made the Herald frown. "I would say that I am probably something of an authority on my own powers, and I know that it would be very difficult for me to force most people to do anything that they did not want to do one at a time, let alone en masse. But the device you speak of... I know of it: it is called the Brightcrown. No one has been able to wear it because human - or Hunter, for that matter - biology simply can't withstand the sheer enormity of its power, but that could indeed enforce obedience if someone actually managed to survive wearing it."

He sighed. "And obviously I am not going to make excuses for your Harold; he might be me, but he is also different from me, so I can't know his mind with certainty. But you say that there was a Blood Moon a few years ago, after which he became the leader of your Healing Church... and that now the Worldbreaker is being awakened, threatening all of existence. And you 'freed' a 'rather powerful Hunter from his influence' that you think 'must have been key to his plans'..." The Herald shook his head grimly. "I'm sorry, I know you think his actions are unforgivable, but it sounds like someone desperately trying to stave off the apocalypse to me."

[color=#007FFF][b]“And pray tell…when have desperation and wisdom been bedfellows?”[/b][/color] Farren replied darkly, entirely unsympathetic.

"In my experience desperation and wisdom are not mutually exclusive," the Herald claimed with a shrug. "But once again I am not making excuses. The Brightcrown is a horrid creation of my Lord that I would never use if I had other options..." He shook his head sadly.

Ophelia's expression darkened again at the explanation of the Brightcrown. "I think it says something about your lord that he created such a device at all... but I digress," she sighed, and let Farren speak while she thought.

[color=#007FFF][b]“At least you have the decency not to defend it.”[/b][/color] Farren said blandly. He raised his hand and was about to rub at the bridge of his nose, before he recalled the talons and stopped. He grumbled, then sighed, [color=#007FFF][b]“Do you know what will happen to you once this Nightmare collapses?”[/b][/color]

Once again the Herald shrugged. "I am a figment of the Nightmare; if it ceases to exist, so will I most likely... though my memory will live on in the greater Nightmare, and the Golden One is attentive to the flows of it. If he wills it, I will be remade in the Waking World. If not... then I have served my purpose."

"I truly do hope we meet you in the Waking World, Herald... but for now, I am glad we can release you and all the innocents here from this prison." Ophelia said, her brow still furrowed from thinking about the Brightcrown and a sad smile gently tugging at the corners of her mouth. So many had met their ends at the dreamers' hands this night--it was nice for that to finally not involve killing someone, and for it to be welcome.

[color=#007FFF][b]“If...somehow, your memories are conveyed to Harold in the waking world,”[/b][/color] Farren began, wetting his lips, [color=#007FFF][b]“Perhaps he will receive the message. We only desire the option to choose. Treat with us honestly...and perhaps we do not have to be enemies.”[/b][/color] There was great tension in him as he said it, but it sounded honest enough. It was an olive branch extended from the party most affronted by Vicar's perceived crimes. Who knows if it would even reach its desired destination, but nonetheless it was worth the attempt.

With those words said, he glanced to Torquil, [color=#007FFF][b]“Check your person, Torquil. See if Tempus hides in plain sight upon your visage.”[/b][/color]

While the Herald merely responded with a nod of his head, Farren and Ophelia would find that Torquil had already been spending the time since learning that Tempus was on him searching every pocket and pouch he had. At the time of Farren addressing him he would find Torquil having taken off his coat and shaking it in the air to see if anything loose came out.

On the ground next to him was a pile of his own weapons and those Farren had distributed to him, his bag of blood vials and the as of yet unopened quicksilver canister.

For her contribution, Ophelia communed with her sword: [i]Do you detect Tempus anywhere on Torquil?[/i] She gave him a quick appraising look up and down to see if there was anything obvious, focusing on his back as an area he could not observe himself.

"[I]The presence of Tempus has not gotten any stronger or weaker since you got here,[/I]" the voice replied immediately. "[I]It is still not possible to determine direction nor distance... though this does explain why the presence never got meaningfully closer or farther away.[/I]"
"It's not on him anymore. It's in that pile," the Herald declared, pointing to the pile of Torquil's discarded belongings.

Farren wet his lips, narrowing his eyes for a moment as he glanced at the pile. [color=#007FFF][b]“Check for anything you don’t recall having picked up. Perhaps it has changed its form or cast some…glamour over itself,”[/b][/color] Farren offered, crossing his arms.

Ophelia nodded at the Herald's direction, and waited for Torquil to look through. 

"Or inside containers?" she added to Farren's guidance.

Torquil took the time to put his coat back on before going to rummage through the gear he had tossed on the ground.

"The power of the Great Serpent in particular manifests its aspect of the Nightmare very narrowly in my experience," the Herald chimed in as he slowly backed away to the far end of the room. "It has power over time rather than being just a general shapeshifter; it can become older and younger... which in essence can allow it to grow and shrink. It has most likely shrunk to a tiny hatchling to hide inside something."

"As much as I wouldn't like to be immersed in quicksilver, Great Ones likely have no such compunctions: that's where I'd check... or your blood vial holster." Ophelia smiled, indicating the items with a nod of her head out of habit more than out of belief it was necessary.

Torquil dutifully went straight for the quicksilver canister. "I don't have any quicksilver," he pointed out, taking a moment to even figure out how to open the lid since he had never actually had cause to use it before.
He got the lid open and looked down the opening... then nervously held it out in a fully extended arm, turned it upside down and shook it until a tiny little blue snake-like creature emerged and dropped to the floor.

"Ah, there you are," Ophelia confirmed with a smile and gave Torquil's shoulder a gentle squeeze with her free hand. "Good job, love."

Ophelia then got to her knees and looked down at Tempus, taking in a deep breath to steady herself as she tried once again to communicate their desires to a being so much greater than they were, who operated on fundamentally different levels of reality. She imagined the pain, the fear, the grief, the loss--all the torment the shades here had been exposed to here for so very long... and how she wished fervently for it to be over. She focused on feelings of gratitude for the Great One, who had given them this wonderful opportunity and preserved this fragment of existence... and she focused very specifically on the loss she knew Torquil felt for his shield. She envisioned it so clearly in her mind's eye, how happy and grateful he would be if he could only get it back--a rather last ditch effort to get it back, but one she could not forgive herself for if she did not at least try.

The little baby Great Serpent raised what one could only assume to be its head toward Ophelia, spent a moment just writhing pathetically on the floor... and then purplish swirls started dancing around it, spreading rapidly until it surrounded them and consumed the world.

The next moment they were all back in the forest. But there was still no shrine, no rocks, the trees were all wrong... they were quite clearly still in ancient Pthumeru rather than returned to the Waking World.

"No!" Torquil howled desperately, looking around frantically. "Where... all the stuff!" And indeed, it appeared that all of his own weapons, and all of the weapons he had been carrying for Farren, which had been tossed on the ground, as well as his satchel of blood vials, were all gone.

"Fuck!" Ophelia swore as she realised what had happened, stomping her feet into the ground out of sheer frustration. "I'm so sorry, I... I don't know what happened! I don't understand..." she sighed defeatedly, sinking to her knees as her frustration began to lose its fire and slip into sorrow.

Farren blinked once...twice...and then sighed. He ran through his mental accounting mof what he'd handed to Torquil and then he shrugged slightly, [color=#007FFF][b]“Well...the bad news is it's likely irretrievable. The good news is that it's all replaceable as soon as we can access the Hunter's Dream once more.”[/b][/color] Still, despite that he walked over and–carefully not to knick him with his talons–patted Torquil's shoulder.

His hand fell away and he looked over at Ophelia, [color=#007FFF][b]“What was it you...tried to ask of Tempus?”[/b][/color]

"To end this Nightmare. Release these figments from their suffering... to give Torquil his shield back. But... it's just feelings. Imprecise, messy feelings... Maybe I should have waited for the Herald to instruct us further, but... I thought I knew what to do..." Ophelia sighed, looking up into the sky plaintively.

"[I]It is uncertain how much or how little of the emotions you tried to project toward it Tempus received,[/I]" the voice remarked in Ophelia's head, "[I]but it is also unlikely that is how it communicates. When you first encountered Tempus and were sent here, you seemed to have greater success with body language and emotional noises than any other means.
Even so, something has changed. For the first time the distance to Tempus has changed, and there is a direction to it; it is west of here, which likely puts it outside Yharnam proper. The entire Nightmare also feels... distinctly different than before.[/I]" It paused. "[I]There is an arcane force just north of here that has not been there in the other cycles. It is not far.[/I]"

Ophelia's eyes lit up as the voice told her what it could observe, and she sighed with relief. Perhaps all was not lost, then--perhaps she had done [i]something[/i] right.

"My blade remarks that, for the first time, the distance between us and Tempus has changed. There's a change in the Nightmare... and a new arcane force to the North, one that hasn't been here in previous cycles. Let's go and see what." Ophelia commented to the others, slowly getting up to her feet.

Farren nodded after a moment, [color=#007FFF][b]“Hmm...well, may as well follow the leads we have,”[/b][/color] he replied.

And so, with Torquil shuffling along uncomfortably bereft of his weapons and Gerlinde playing happily with the flail she had looted off Riccas' corpse, the Hunters ventured north. Very quickly they discovered that the voice's directions had been accurate; they barely had to walk fifty meters before they discovered something on the Godswood that had not been there any of the prior times they had passed the area. They were quite certain of that; it was difficult not to notice.

What they found was a plain wooden door, in a plain wooden frame, on... nothing. The door just stood there in the middle of the forest, looking completely out of place. It had a doorknob but no keyhole.

"[I]That is it,[/I]" the voice reported, most likely superfluously. "[I]This feeling... there is no mistaking it: the Waking World is on the other side of that doorway, completely static at the moment. It is promising; it could mean that time is not currently progressing there, and has not the entire time you have been in this Nightmare. This is most likely a way back.[/I]"

Ophelia dutifully conveyed the voice's words to the others and brought her right hand up to her face to cradle her chin as she thought. She then fished out the golden amulet and presented it to Farren for him to take.

"The Herald should be able to speak to you through this, like last time... though maybe not from this distance? Why don't you let him know what we've found?"

While she waited for Farren to take the amulet, she also communed with her sword: [i]Can you send a message to the Herald? The Truth rune might prevent him from reaching out, but perhaps not the other way?[/i]

"[I]Apologies, but that is not possible,[/I]" the voice told her. "[I]Neither means of communication will work over such distances. Also, the medallion does not appear to be connected to the power of the Herald nor the Golden One, and was likely not the means by which the Herald spoke to Farren earlier.[/I]"

Hearing the response, Ophelia withdrew her hand and the amulet with a little sigh. "It appears that won't work; we'll have to get closer to the palace again... I suppose a trip into the city could do us some good: why don't we go and get some weapons for Torquil and then head to the palace? Us having a way out of the Nightmare is excellent... but I won't leave until we can end it for everyone else, too. They deserve that much. Especially given that time does not appear to be passing on the other side."

Farren frowned slightly, but as he saw the set of her shoulders he nodded, [color=#007FFF][b]“Very well. Gerlinde, if you'd do the honors...reset us and let's see if we can get back to the Palace.”[/b][/color]

Gerlinde cocked her head, a mysterious smile on her lips. She hesitated for a second while just staring at Farren, then she asked: "Didn't we just reset? Do we really need to do it again?"

"[I]You should also be aware that Tempus is not with you anymore; it has moved further away,[/I]" the voice said, this time addressing all of the Hunters. "[I]As such there is no guarantee that you have the same protection you did before.[/I]"

"I don't think we're in as much of a rush, now, eh? We got what we came for, we just need to check in with the Herald and... see if this was enough." Ophelia commented, beginning to meander towards the entrance to the city.

Farren paused, [color=#007FFF][b]“Ah...best not to risk it then. Perhaps...seeking out Tempus again would be wise as a first order of business, then?”[/b][/color] He glanced at Ophelia as she began to walk away. [color=#007FFF][b]“I'd hate to be trapped in the city when the blood moon comes with no assurance of survival,”[/b][/color] he added.

"Quite... but without Tempus' protection, I think we'd just... return to the Dream, no?" Ophelia replied, stopping and turning her head over her shoulder to address Farren. "All we're really doing is... checking in with the Herald, after all."

[i]This change in the Nightmare... can you tell what it is? I... don't want to leave and have the Nightmare persist, and break my promise.[/i] she asked her sword, though she did not expect it to know--if it did, surely it would have told her when it observed the change.

"[I]It seems the change may primarily be an increased attunement with the Waking World to create the doorway there,[/I]" the voice offered its insight. "[I]It does not seem unstable in the least; if anything, it feels stronger and more resilient than before, so it is highly doubtful that it will cease when you leave.

Another thing you should probably be aware of is that currently the connection between this Nightmare and the Waking World is rather... bespoke,[/I]" the voice continued. "[I]The doorway exists, but it is tenuous enough that time can pass here without passing there. Opening the door will likely make the connection much more concrete, and there is a high likelihood that the disconnect between the two passages of time will lessen substantially. But it will likely also remove your current limitations and restore your connection to the Dream.[/I]"

Once again, Ophelia repeated the gist of the information for the others. "We simply haven't the time to spare in the Waking World to open the door yet... and with our protection uncertain, who knows? If any of you don't wish to risk it, you're welcome to stay here, but... I made a promise to the Herald that I intend to keep. I will go alone if I have to."

Right about then it was Farren's turn to hear a voice in his head, though once again it was likely close to the last one he would have wanted to hear. "[I]Ah, there you are,[/I]" the voice that could belong to the Herald just as easily as Harold said. Another second passed, and suddenly the Herald seemed to suddenly just step out from behind a tree about twenty meters away as if he had been hiding there all along. "Sorry it took so long, I didn't actually know where your cycle started so I had to look."

"Ah! How convenient. We normally start a little south of here--but my sword noticed this door, and... well. It leads back to the Waking World. Unfortunately, it seems to have had the side effect of strengthening this Nightmare more than helping to dissipate it... I'm sorry, I'm not sure what to do to convince Tempus to end it. That's what I tried before the last reset, but... this happened." Ophelia replied with a wide, bright smile. She had been a little startled, of course, but was earnestly glad to see the Herald--which was itself a complicated feeling she would have to examine later.

The Herald nodded his head as he approached them, though his black Pthumerian eyes were on the door. "That is how I am able to move more freely now. The Nightmare has grown stronger, and I am part of it, so I am less limited now than before. It's rather convenient."
He stopped when he was still around fifteen meters from the door and reluctantly turned from it to look at Ophelia. "Convincing Tempus was never an option; the only Great One that even has the capacity to be convinced of anything is the Golden One. No, the only way to end a Nightmare is to wake the dreamer. To end this, you'd have to defeat the Great Serpent."

Ophelia's smile diminished as the Herald explained, eventually ending with her mouth set into a grim line. "... Ah. I... feel rather conflicted about that. In our time, several Great Ones have died--[i]truly[/i] died, and I would not want that for Tempus. Tempus was something of a guardian deity to me and my mentors, and I would not want for them to die permanently. I am given to understand that such a permanent death is only possible under very specific circumstances, though, so as long as they would not die permanently..." Ophelia mused, tilting her head slightly to the right as her brows furrowed in thought. She was sure the Herald would provide sufficient information to assuage her anxieties, and awaited his reply patiently.
The Herald actually laughed at this. "Believe me when I say that it is not so simple to destroy the god of time. Even among the Great Ones, the Great Serpent is the embodiment of eternity. Even if you did somehow kill it, it would reemerge from a forgotten past or a distant future."

"Ah, good. Even better: we know someone who lives to hunt Great Ones. Venara's successor, I suppose, which makes sense given what you told us about them. Do we have to fight them in the Nightmare, here, or in the Waking World?"

"Here, I am afraid," the Herald said after a couple of seconds to ponder the question. "As I said, the Great Serpent can easily arrive from a past or future; if you killed it outside here and the one you fight is from the future, it may be eons before it affects the Nightmare. If you fight it here, the effect is guaranteed to be immediate."

"That's fine. Perhaps we'll get some blood echoes for our trouble, hmm? We normally don't if we summon this friend of ours. Ah--I made rather a foolish misstep in entreating Tempus before Torquil had time to gather the rest of his belongings... he'll need to be properly equipped before we try to fight Tempus. Should we head into the city, or is that something you could help with?" Ophelia admitted sheepishly, shooting Torquil a quick apologetic glance.

Arching an eyebrow, the Herald glanced at Gerlinde and Farren - both of whom were still abundantly armed - and said: "Do you really need [I]more[/I] weapons?"

"Yes." Ophelia replied simply. "We fight a horrifying bestiary of creatures, and weapons of the quality in this time are vanishingly rare to come by in our time. Every weapon is another advantage, and our situation demands we take all of them we can get."

Farren, for his part had had to stop himself from dragon his claws down his face. It took him the time that they’d been speaking to calm his breathing and return to a state closer to ‘in control’. He cleared his throat, not to get attention, but as part of shaking himself out of the fear/rage suffused fervor that having his mind intruded upon tended to cause.

He glanced between them and then looked to Torquil as he considered what gear he could offer. AFter a brief moment he drew one of his blessing blades off his person along with the haft at his back. [color=#007FFF][b]“Blessing Blade is the closest I have to something you’d likely wield.”[/b][/color] He said, offering Torquil the weapon for a moment before something occurred to him. He spun the weapon and then stabbed it blade first into the dirt. Farren knelt and murmured in that particular way of his, quietly attempting to call upon the Messengers. After all, the nature of the Nightmare had changed, so perhaps their summons might reach the little helpers.

After Torquil had gratefully accepted the Blessing Blade and had awkwardly combined its blade and haft into a glaive again, Farren would sadly find that the Messengers still did not respond.
"[I]There is a faint response from the little ones,[/I]" the voice told Farren and the others, "[I]but from the other side of the door. If it was opened, you would likely be able to summon them freely.[/I]"
"Little ones?" the Herald repeated curiously. "Are they the 'friend' you mentioned? Or... it's not this successor to Venara you mentioned, is it?"

"No, the little ones are tied to the Dream. They seem to help all Paleblood Hunters who wind up there--items can be stored with them, and they traverse the realms of Nightmare to provide useful information on things we show them. It has been rather frustrating to not have access to them here--we've a couple of useful things stashed away with them... but if we open the door, time will start passing in the Waking World again. That isn't exactly a luxury we can afford at the moment." Ophelia explained, her expression having returned to its usual smile.

The Herald slowly nodded his head, his mien growing serious. "So... who is this friend of yours, then? And how do you 'summon' them?"

"We know them as the Moonborn... or the Shopkeeper. They seem to have a number of different aspects. They gave us a bell that we can ring to summon them."

"'Moonborn'..." the Herald repeated, his brow lowering into a frown. "So it [I]is[/I] the successor to the Moon Presence? A Great One?"

"Yes," Ophelia confirmed with a nod, "that's right. The present day is... a very strange time, I am beginning to understand."

"You have a bell that can summon a Great One..." The Herald shook his head incredulously. "Just what kind of unfathomable danger is it you need the Sealing Mask to stop when you have Great One at your beck and call?"

"An immortal, as I said. Whenever she's slain she simply... reforms. If it were as simple as just killing her it would be quite easy. And so long as she reforms, she continues her profane ritual."

"Reforms?" The Herald seemed surprised at the process being described like that. "That is... unusual for a human. Even the most powerful among the royal family simply don't die, but will take a long time to regenerate even if provided with the copious amounts of blood to do so." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Something like that can't be accomplished for free. There are certainly limitations; I'd guess that you would quickly weaken and destroy this enemy if you simply killed her repeatedly."

Ophelia considered the Herald's words pensively, pursing her lips as she pondered his proposition. "That is good to know... I suppose it's something we could try, but... having the Sealing Mask as an option as well helps. I suppose even getting the Sealing Mask on her would be difficult: she has the Eyes of Obcasus, and any who meet her gaze are... devoured. Utterly destroyed. If not for our own immortality, we'd already have fallen victim to it."

The Herald blinked. "You were consumed by the Eyes of Obcasus and survived?"

"Indeed. Not an experience I'd recommend. We simply reawaken in the Dream whenever we would die."
Farren shuddered as he recalled the experience, a hollow harrowed look lingering in his azure eyes for a brief time before he came entirely back to himself. [color=#007FFF][b]“To...return to the topic of Tempus...while we fight it, how are we to stop it from expelling us from the nightmare...freezing us in time...or simply relocating us as it did during the loops?”[/b][/color]

At Farren's question the Herald actually broke into a smile. "Ah, that's where I can be of assistance. I can -"

But the Herald's explanation of what he could do was abruptly cut off by a strange bird-like whistle as something relatively small darted through the air between them all in a blur, only to halt abruptly mid-air right in front of him. It appeared to be an elaborately decorated shortsword of some kind, with its most eye-catching feature being a handle that glittered as though strewn with a multitude of tiny diamonds. The sword just hovered there for a heartbeat, just wobbling slightly from side to side, before suddenly bursting into motion again, spinning around in a flash and darting back into the forest again at the speed of a bullet.

And while everyone was still trying to process that strange occurrence, the Herald fell to his knees, only for the jolt of his knees hitting the ground to cause enough of a tremor to make his head topple and drop to the ground, his neck completely severed.

Ophelia's reaction to the strange events unfurling before them was a flinch, immediately followed by her raising her sword into a combat ready stance and looking about the direction the attack had come from. 

[I]Can you tell what that was? Where it came from?[/I] she communed with her sword, all of her Hunter's instincts coming alive in the face of a threat with their uncertain protection.

Farren reacted quickly, snatching at the sword, but he wasn't fast enough, and it slid away before he could get any proper grip. He clenched his teeth...then the Herald fell to his knees...and his head fell to the earthen floor of the forest. He cursed, his eyes following the direction that the blade had moved as it vanished back into the forest. Farren gestured where it'd gone, catching Ophelia's eye as he did so. [color=#007FFF][b]“Is that the same direction that your sword sensed Tempus?”[/b][/color] He asked, his other hand on the grip of his Effigial Blade of Mercy.

The sword did indeed appear to have come from the west, which was the direction the voice had told Ophelia Tempus was in now.

Meanwhile the voice seemed uncharacteristically slow to respond to Ophelia's question, only to eventually tell her, its words oddly stilted: "[I]It was... potential. Came from west. Not far. More potential. Waiting. Wants you to leave.[/I]"

Ophelia repeated what her sword had said to Farren wordlessly, just in case it was some unforeseen human element, though her sword's sluggish reply gave her the impression that it was, in fact, the chronophage themselves. "Yes, west. I would guess... it was Tempus." she added, and waited for a few seconds to see if the Herald would simply respawn like he had before.

Farren nodded, [color=#007FFF][b]“Well...we have no easy way to reset...and I imagine that the Serpent will block the Herald's return...or cut him off again if he tries to help us with our...chosen course.”[/b][/color] Farren deliberately avoided mentioning 'killing' the Serpent, as it was clear enough that Tempus had grown wise to their intentions and, thus, had taken measures against them successfully carrying out their goal.

[color=#007FFF][b]“We could try to reach him the mundane way again, but there's no telling if Tempus will complicate that path...and even should we make it...we'd have to fight our way out the city once the Blood Moon rises once more.”[/b][/color] Farren flexed his taloned fingers, frustrated as for not the first time since they'd been transported to this nightmare he wished they had the means to change their runes. Perhaps with the Sun rune...the Herald might have at least contacted him, even if from afar....

"Well, we [i]could[/i] change our runes. We would simply have to open the door... and that is what Tempus wants of us, I gather. To leave... If we open the door and restore our connection to the Dream, we will be assured of our immortality, gain access to the little ones, and more. But... time will start passing, and we only have a handful of hours at the most before Nayra completes her ritual. I think it best we at least attempt to fight Tempus without opening the door." Ophelia replied, brow furrowed. She leant against a nearby tree and slumped down its rough bark, eventually sitting on the floor, as she thought.

[color=#007FFF][b]“Agreed,”[/b][/color] he said simply in reply. He didn't want to risk opening the door until they truly had to.

"I vote we leave and come back later," Gerlinde declared, walking over to the beheaded corpse of the Herald to idly nudge it with the tip of her boot. "I don't like the idea of fighting [I]anything[/I] while we aren't even certain we're immortal, let alone a Great One."
Slowly, once again speaking as though struggling to get the words out, the voice projected into all of their minds: "[I]Yes... leave. You cannot win. Not against this. Let the Nightmare be. The memory cannot help you. Freezing you in time? Relocating you? Your fears betray your lack of insight. Those are parlor tricks. You face...[/I]" There was a brief pause, only for the next word the voice spoke to actually be many words at once, all spoken simultaneously so that they overlapped, but with one iteration booming louder than all the others: "[I]Miracles/Disasters/Hope/Dread/Power/Weakness/Known/Unknown/Enemy/Friend/[B]POTENTIAL[/B].[/I]"

Ophelia turned her gaze to Gerlinde as she spoke, clearly considering the wisdom of what she was saying--if they died permanently here Nayra's ritual [i]would[/i] happen and the Waking World would be no more--but when the sluggish voice of her sword spoke to them in such a terrifying manner, a look of true dread crept over her features. A sickening lurch of cowardice took root in the innermost depths of her heart, like the presence of Phagus had evoked within her, and she immediately stood up and went to stand in front of the door. She did not reach out for it yet, waiting to observe the others' reactions and form a consensus, but her agreement with Gerlinde was obvious from her absolutely terrified body language and suddenly blank expression.
Farren's eyes widened slightly as the voice began to speak again, words dragged out and laggardly. A shiver of cold dread ran down his spine and then the final word...or words bombarded his mind all at once. He staggered back one, then two steps, eyes widening further in stunned, disturbed shock. [i]'It's...like it's possessed...or...' Farren glanced around, making sure nothing was nearby, that a threat was not imminent. Then he watched as Ophelia walked over to the door, making her stance clear.

[color=#007FFF][b]“I...no, Gerlinde is right, that's...probably wise.”[/b][/color] His voice was slightly shaky at the edges and he clearly looked disturbed. [color=#007FFF][b]“I...hate to think of it...but, if this restores our access to the Dream, then...perhaps I can communicate with the Herald if...if I inscribe the Sun Rune on my mind. I...will just have to trust that the rest of you can restrain me if...if I become compromised as a result.”[/b][/color]

"You don't have to tell me twice," Gerlinde exclaimed through her manic grin, covering the distance between herself and the door in a quickstep, seizing the doorknob and turning it.
Immediately, as soon as the doorknob was turned, the forest floor at the Hunter's feet seemed to abruptly become alive as many dozens upon dozens of Messengers eagerly burst from the ground, filling the air with their desperate moans as they reached their little immaterial hands out toward them. Several of them frantically raised a lantern out of the ground between them and gestured for the Hunters to make use of it.

"[I]Yes. Leave,[/I]" the voice growled viciously. "[I]Let us have our Nightmare. You can never win. You cannot overcome [B]potential[/B].[/I]"

Ophelia's fear melted away at the sight of the little ones, secure in the knowledge that they were once more tethered to the Dream, and her face then contorted into a scowl of righteous anger at the voice's provocation.

"Potential...  is only what [i]may[/i] be. You will remain potential forever, and this Nightmare will end. Mark my words. If you can hear me, Herald, we'll be back. I will free you from this Nightmare. I [b]promise[/b]." she spoke into the air, well aware that the voice from her sword was simply being commandeered by something else--and she went to the lantern, ready to depart back to the Dream. She gave the others a look of steely resolve, a curt nod, and waited for them all to be ready.

Farren too felt a strange sense of relief at the sight of their bizarre little helpers, but more importantly...at the sight of the lantern. He went to it as well, [color=#007FFF][b]“Brace, we know not what the Sun's influence in my and Torquil's blood will cause upon our return.”[/b][/color] Then he moved to use the lantern once the others were also near at hand.