[h3]The Hunter's Dream[/h3]
The doll nodded her head at slowly as she turned to look at Farren. “The Nightmare is the world above the Waking World you know. There are many layers of it, of which the Hunter's Dream, too, is one. They are the realms that the gods call their home.”

The figure in the wheelchair responded to Ophelia's curtsy only with a nod of their head, whereas the Messengers moaned excitedly and tried their hardest to mimic her movements. Each time she showed them an item – be it the bell, the eye she had harvested from the dead Hunter-to-be or the eyes she had ripped from the beast-man's still-living skull – the Messengers simply reached into the ground and immediately retrieved a new scroll from worlds unseen, as if these descriptions had been written in advance and lay ready at their feet.

[I]Church servant's bell
An ordinary, mundane bell taken from the corpse of a church servant.
Unlike the old bells found in the labyrinth, this is merely a tool and does not resonate across worlds. Yet with the right conduit, even the ring of such as this can cause resonance in those who hear it.
Even inanimate objects may keep the final wills of those who passed near them. A bell knelled resolutely may even resonate with such echoes.[/I]

[I]Scourge-marked eye
The eye of someone who has received the Old Blood. Its pupil is collapsed and turned to mush, indicating the onset of the scourge of beasts.
It looks twisted, but it is nothing to be concerned over. Nothing is wrong. Everything is fine.[/I]

[I]Echo of Agony
The pain and fear of a tortured creature clings to these eyes like an echo of blood.
Memories of powerful trauma can sometimes outlive those who suffered it, leaving behind a mark of madness upon the world that can linger for some time.
Crushing these eyes will grant some blood echoes. Alternatively, they can be used as a conduit for sinister resonance.[/I]

The Hunter in the wheelchair leaned back in their seat and crossed their arms, the doll cocked her head yet again and Torquil merely stood there, awkwardly looking back and forth between Ophelia and the doll, overwhelmed by how quickly so much as being discussed. Torquil notably still seemed somewhat unsettled when Ophelia produced her collection of eyes to show the Messengers, but none of the denizens of the Dream so much as twitched or batted an eye.
“You are quite eager, good Hunter,” the doll remarked at the end of Ophelia's string of questions, letting out a short, melodious giggle. “I am glad, but if you would allow me a small impudence, I might recommend slowing down a little? We promise to answer every question we can, and we are not going anywhere.”
The doll paused and glanced up at the newly risen moon. “You are bound to the Hunter's Dream, which means that you indeed cannot die permanently; any time you lose consciousness, you will simply reawaken here safe and sound. And yes, good Hunter, a Hunter called Moira did once belong to the Dream. If you want to know more about those who preceded you, the Shopkeeper –” she gestured to the figure in the wheelchair, who nodded their head again, “– has erected memorials for those they know about. You are welcome to examine them at your convenience.”
She pointed past the wrought-iron fence beside them, toward a large, slanted flower-strewn field in the shade of the huge tree. Down the path behind Ophelia and Torquil and past Farren, there was a gap in the fence where the double gates to the area stood open, allowing access. On the far side of the field they could still see five vaguely human-shaped statues in different poses, and one empty base that still lacked a statue.