Ophelia observed the growing spectacle with keen interest, having noticed by now also that Farren had managed to actually disconnect the chain. She felt better knowing that they had, at the very least, completed that part of the fight on their own. She continued to retreat to a safe distance before looking over at the clash and trying to discern who it seemed had the upper hand at that moment in time--but given that all she could really see from the beast was its wreath of crimson lightning and that its claw had just raked across the Shopkeeper's chest to reveal pearlescent blood... Well, she didn't feel like it was necessarily going in their favour. Still--the Shopkeeper was positively full of tricks, and Ophelia was quite content to watch (much in the same vein as Gerlinde) while she continued to regain her frightfully small reserves of stamina. She suddenly had a much greater interest in using the Heir rune to gather blood echoes, and felt like she'd need to hunt something more suited to their power level and truly dominate it.

She also spared a thought for Torquil, and shot him a grateful look--not that he'd see it, no doubt. He had made the choice to act, and she would always have preferred him act rather than dally and dither and end up not doing anything at all. It was nice to see him take some initiative.

While Gerlinde casually leaned on the staked-down lightbeast and twirled her fiery cane, and Torquil collapsed his axe back into its shorter form and successfully retrieved the Loch Shield, the darkbeast remained focused entirely on the Shopkeeper.

The darkbeast swiped again, but the Shopkeeper took a swift and carefully measured back so that its claw missed them by a hair's breadth, only for the Shopkeeper to immediately step back in while spinning the Burial Blade over their head. The great scythe came down vertically on top of the darkbeast's skull, piercing deep into it. It was a wound that one would assume to be lethal to any ordinary creature... but Farren especially had already witnessed a Hunter survive something similar when he had plunged his Blade of Mercy into Skinner's forehead.
Indeed, the darkbeast wasted no time retaliating with another red-glowing explosive slam of its claw. This time the Shopkeeper did not have time to conjure an Effigial Loch Shield to protect themselves, so even as the silt was blown into the air in another dust cloud, they were thrown backward and out of the obscured area by the force, where they ended up rolling an extra meter or so, now unarmed. The darkbeast followed with a fierce snarl, pouncing on the caretaker of the Dream with both claws extended, but again the Shopkeeper managed to roll out of the way in the last moment and get back on their feet.
Raising both hands over their head, the Shopkeeper summoned another weapon with a blue flash: something that looked like a pair of simple, a large wooden wheels connected by an axle, only with the rims of emanating an ominous dark-red arcane aura in the form of what appeared to be human skulls. They slammed the Logarius' Wheel down into the darkbeast's head as it advanced once again, and the wheels appeared to spin violently on their own, carving into the monster while radiating dark, baleful spirits.
Instead of trying to evade or defend itself in any way, the darkbeast repeated the maneuver it had just failed at and brought both of its hands up behind the Shopkeeper, dug its claws into their back, and pulled them in close to its face. The Shopkeeper allowed their wheel to vanish, only to immediately summon a beast claw and use its power to partially transform into a beast themselves, after which they started viciously clawing at both sides of the darkbeast's head at the same time.
Meanwhile the darkbeast seemed to just stand still, just allowing itself to be shredded... except that while its body held still, its lightning was moving. The red glow wreathing its form migrated toward its front, leaving first its hind body dark, then the rest of its torso, until all of its light seemed to focus into its hands and head, each of which now gave off a blindingly bright glare.

There was a powerful sound so deep that none of them could hear it, but everyone felt it rattle their very bones, just as they could plainly see the shockwave sending an obvious ripple through the silt across the entire alcove. Though the light was concentrated entirely on the Shopkeeper, anyone within twenty meters of them would easily be able to feel the heat wafting past them, as if someone had just opened a pressurized furnace.
Then the darkbeast collapsed limply where it was, black smoke rising from its claws and head, and all its electricity gone. The Shopkeeper was also gone, however, and in the place they had stood but a moment ago the ground had turned to glass.

_Farren

watched the battle with baited breath, recovering his stamina naturally as he did so. Each exchange of blows was tremendous and he marvelled at the fact that they’d even managed to fight the Darkbeast at all. However…at the same time, Farren found himself unsettled and uncertain. Before when Ophelia had summoned the Moonbound Hunter he had absolutely obliterated their opponent…but now, it was almost even, and Farren had the distinct sense that the Shopkeeper was struggling.

“This isn’t good…” Farren muttered, pushing to his feet after he’d briefly handed Bulwark to the Messengers who had waited for further direction. They’d taken it after that.

As Farren stood up, he glanced at the three others. Torquil was perhaps in the best shape…or at least looked it, but that was on account of his armor. Besides, the man had clearly taken at least one blood vial during their encounter with the Darkbeast. While Farren took in each of them–startled at how well off Gerlinde seemed despite the sheer quantity of damage she’d taken. Ophelia on the other hand, though in decent shape, appeared largely on her last legs—she was clearly exhausted.

Yet, before he could even begin to organize some plan of attack, his eyes were drawn back to the conflict as the Darkbeast wrested dominion of the battle by latching onto the Shopkeeper. Then it started to glow with a ferocity far exceeding anything it had done during their fight with it. “Shit…”

Farren cast his gaze down and away, shielding his eyes with an arm in the instant right before the explosion went off. It was so loud and powerful that it rattled his bones, sending a chilling vibration throughout his entire body that set his every nerve on edge. Some small part of him that retained a prey instinct told him desperately to run. Farren stifled that voice, squared his jaw and tried to steel himself, but when the dust cleared, his lips parted slightly in stunned horror.

“That…that’s a problem,” Farren said simply, his tone gruff and though there was a note of fear there, by and large he sounded no less determined than before. Brandishing the Beastflayer, Farren’s eyes snapped over to Gerlinde. “Any chance that horn of yours can work on more than one weapon at a time?” As he spoke, he kept the beast in his peripheral vision. He’d know precisely when it decided to shift its attention.

For the most part Ophelia simply stood awestruck watching the events of the titanic clash, breathing calmly and trying to get into position for whatever happened next. She'd noticed that Farren had managed to pry the chain apart, and the flow of bountiful moon motes was simply flowing out of the chain and into the environment near them--which meant the darkbeast was cut off from the lightbeast's healing capabilities... and with how much effort it was pouring into its attack, it'd clearly soon be exhausted as well. Ophelia was about to muse on how that would give the Shopkeeper an abundance of time to absolutely obliterate the beast, but as the crescendo of the darkbeast's gathering power reached the apex of its fulgurous fury she suddenly had doubts that anything at all--even the Shopkeeper--could survive it.

When the blast hit all of her senses registered it, the sheer volume of energy reverberating through the already-charged air flowing over her instantaneously. She could taste blood, smell the charge in the air, feel the goosebumps on her body write with energy. The keening pitch of its unleashed potential was at no frequency someone should be able to hear, but she could swear she heard a sound that was so pure an expression of malice that it made her shudder. Mother Moon above... she thought to herself, balking somewhat in the blinding wave of light, before finally the second passed and all was clear again. The Shopkeeper did not remain, and beneath the ground where they stood was glass, sparkling softly in the pale moonlight. This, then, was it.

"Now or never! To the death!" Ophelia screamed as she began to run forward towards the beast at her very fullest speed, quickstepping into motion and then heading directly towards the darkbeast's head begin to deliver a flurry of swift and light swipes--with how easily the Holy Moonlight Sword had cut the darkbeast before she hoped she could get away with not pouring that much energy into the swings. She'd need at least some of her still barely recovered stamina to either perform a finishing attack or get away from something imminent if it came to that... But she thought about what had been said before, that the Shopkeeper being summoned meant they'd receive no Blood Echoes, and she summoned what resolve she could. If that was the case, well, it didn't matter if she died. Not really. She would evaluate the situation as it unfolded, but with a clear second wind of passion and unleashing of retributive malice that anyone observing her would see plainly that she was determined to see this through.

“Never tried,” Gerlinde replied to Farren's inquiry. She started reaching for the tube of quicksilver bullets on her hip, but stopped when she heard Ophelia's battlecry and realized that others were already moving against the darkbeast.
Ophelia arrived and started carving into the darkbeast's face with her arcane blade, gushing blood from the creature as its charred bones crumbled under her strikes. Perhaps half a second after her – arriving after Ophelia only because he had opted not to quickstep to get there – Torquil ran to the right and back of the monster's head, and immediately chopped at its neck with his axe, the only way he knew how: with every ounce of strength he could draw from his bulging muscles.
Both the Holy Moonlight Sword and the Hunter's axe cut deep, and the darkbeast trembled under their assault. Anyone paying attention might notice a faint pulse of electricity through the chain connected to the stake through the darkbeast's chest, but they ended up just sparking uselessly at where the chain had been severed, never reaching their intended target.
The darkbeast hissed and gargled, its entire body trembling. Nearly all of its fur had been burned away by the red lightning, and it was clearly struggling to produce even the faintest voltaic charge at the moment. Each swing of the blade of the cosmos left gashes in its flesh and bone that still healed, but did so discernibly slower with each passing second.
Its hind legs kicked uselessly in the silt and its shaky front claws tried in vain to drag it toward where the lightbeast remained staked to the ground. The lightbeast, in turn, raised its head for only the second time since they had arrived at the alcove, turning its empty sockets toward its dark and menacing companion.
Ophelia slashed, Torquil chopped again, and the darkbeast collapsed once more. Its wounds, which had once regenerated as fast or faster than they could inflict them, were no longer healing. It convulsed weakly on the ground, with no strength left to resist.
Then Torquil chopped a third time, and its head tumbled off its shoulders and landed at Ophelia's feet.

Ophelia, Farren, Torquil and Gerlinde all suddenly felt an overwhelming sensation of something weightless and invisible coming to envelop them, and all of them except Torquil would likely recognize the sensation as that of the blood echoes of the fallen clinging to them. Except feeling, even for those familiar, was far more intense than they had experienced before.

Ophelia and Gerlinde has received 600 blood echoes.
Farren and Torquil, under the influence of the Heir Rune, have received 1200 blood echoes.

Ophelia basked in the glory of killing this creature that had tormented them so, had abused the chained lightbeast, had rendered even the Shopkeeper to dust and transmuted the dirt and sand to glass. It was a magnificent feeling, to emerge victorious, but there was none of that crude and vile furnace heat like when she'd awakened from the clinic mere hours ago--this was only gently warm, and trickled through her like a babbling brook more than a sweeping inferno. She was deeply proud of them--well, less so Gerlinde whose strategy of 'simply do not stop attacking' which, while effective, would not have been able to prevail on its own. Everyone had seen the openings and opportunities left by each other, taken the initiative when they had to, and done the very best they could when thrust into this strange world. It did not escape her notice that merely yesterday this sort of creature would be, very literally, the stuff of Nightmare--so utterly and unfathomably terrifying that Ophelia would not have even thought to have attempted to fight it. Now they stood victorious over its severed head, and she turned to Torquil and gave him an earnestly wide and bright smile.

"Oh, here, love..." She began, quickly moving over to him and carefully removing the empty vial sticking out of his visor. "You did very well, Torquil--you acted when you needed to, and I'm very proud. I'm glad I had you by my side. The feeling of getting these blood echoes is... well, it's something, isn't it?" she commented, half wanting to reach out and clasp him into a hug but deciding that it wasn't the place.

"Similarly effusive praise to the two of you, as well! Especially good work finishing off that chain, Farren--my, you definitely look the part of the Hunter proper now don't you? Shall we find a lantern and spend these echoes before more terrible things appear to try and kill us? Perhaps if we cut the chain leading up to the top of the gate there..." Ophelia called out, heading up towards Farren and Gerlinde and pointing out the relevant chain with the Holy Moonlight Sword.

_Farren

did not act as quickly as the others, but when he saw them rushing the darkbeast, he followed suit. However, as he arrived it was already over. He gritted his teeth a moment, irritated, and then the wash of overwhelming, but weightless Significance settled into his veins, pulsing through with each of his heartbeats. Though it burdened him not at all, the sensation of it was similar to what he imagined it must have been like to exist beyond the physical self…yet within the same space. The thought came to him without context and he took in a deep breath, finally feeling some of the frustration from the last hour or so fall away from his shoulders and drain from his body.

Realizing he’d closed his eyes for a moment to revel in the sensation, Farren opened them once more and then walked towards the Darkbeast’s ruined corpse and stared down at it with a slight smile. “Good fucking riddance,” he said, sounding satisfied, then spat on the ground beside it. That done, Farren retrieved what he could from the beast, looking it over to ensure there was nothing of any further use that they might extract from it beyond the echoes that had once animated its undead flesh. During that process he also retrieved the Blade of Mercy he’d left embedded in its skull, checking it over, before unifying it with its twin and sheathing it.

Once he’d found all he could, Farren glanced in Ophelia’s direction, wondering perhaps if he contemplated on their recent experiences if there might be another Rune to be gleaned somehow. He doubted it…and after a few moment’s consideration he decided against it. If he was going to do something like that he’d save it for somewhere safer–like one of the workshops…or the Hunter’s Dream. A moment later he was pulled from those thoughts by Ophelia's praise. He almost let out a grunt rather than reply, but instead he glanced back between the members of their group and then down at the beheaded Darkbeast.

“Still could've gone better,” Farren said, and though the words were rather negative, he was smiling, clearly pleased that things had turned out better than he’d expected. For a time there it had seemed like they’d been slated for an exceptionally more unpleasant trip to the Dream. Then he nodded, and glanced in the direction of the fog gate–obscured by the illusory wall. “Mmh, Sounds as good a plan as any. Besides, I’m tired of all this blasted silt,” Farren replied, kicking at a nearby pile with a faint laugh. He seemed in good spirits. There really was something to narrowly escaping death it seemed.

While Torquil tried to find a way to simultaneously puff out his chest in pride and awkwardly look away in embarrassment, Farren spent some time examining the remains of the darkbeast. The first and most notable thing he would find was that though the monster itself was dead, its remains appeared to still contain some faint remnant of life. Muscle-tissue remaining on the bones continued to twitch randomly and ineffectually, its heart and lungs kept spasmodically trying to preserve life in its undead body and, as he looked very closely, he would even find that the burns and cuts it had received in its last moments were still regenerating... just very, very slowly, at least by the standards of someone with the Old Blood.
As an undead beast, it appeared that even beheading the creature was not enough to completely extinguish the spark of life from it. But even if it still possessed some weak semblance of vitality, the fact that they had received blood echoes seemed to suggest that its mortal will had been vanquished, at least... and even with the incredible regenerative powers of undeath, it seemed incredibly unlikely that the darkbeast would be able to grow a new head on its body, or a new body from its head.
Aside from the still-living flesh and bones of the creature itself, the only potentially useful thing Farren would be able to retrieve from the corpse was the massive stake embedded in its chest. That particular stake looked like it would be rather large and cumbersome for something human-sized to handle, but it also looked like it – being a giant stone stake – could feasibly be used as a weapon somehow. Notably, the significantly smaller stakes in the lightbeast's hands and feet looked like they would be a much more manageable size.

Gerlinde, meanwhile, seemed fairly unmoved by everything that had just happened, but merely turned to the lightbeast while idly brushing off the ash of her own burned-up skin off her right shoulder and arm. The lightbeast kept its head raised, much more attentive now than previously, and seemed to turn to look at whoever was speaking at any given moment.
“What about this one?” Gerlinde asked, pointing her threaded cane at the beast. “Do you want to kill it, too? That might be faster than breaking the chain, and I bet it has some pretty powerful blood echoes too. Or are we just leaving it here?” Her tone suggested that she was personally more interested in killing the creature.

_Farren

glanced over at the Lightbeast briefly, before turning back to the Darkbeast’s still faintly crackling cadaver. Some part of him wanted to chop it into little pieces and bury them each some meters apart, but he didn’t. It would be a waste of time for if the creature could come back even from this then separating its remains would only prove to delay it.

However, while taking the time to hack the darkbeast into numerous segments may have been too time consuming, taking some piece of it could be helpful. After all…surely someone could put something so durable, conductive, and with seemingly nigh limitless–if not rapid–regenerative potential to use. With that in mind, while he waited for Ophelia to weigh in on the situation with the Lightbeast–something he deliberately chose not to do for the moment–Farren hefted a foot a bit, found it too weighty, then moved to one of its forelegs. He was able to lift it…just barely, and only a few inches from the silt-coated ground. Perhaps half that weight would be manageable, he figured. That in mind, Farren positioned himself at one of the elbows after maneuvering the arm into an extended position that it would hold on account of gravity, and then he brought his Beastflayer down through the joint in a heavy swing.

Severing it cleanly after two passes, Farren slung the weapon on his back and then knelt down by the forearm and its still-attached hand. He nodded to himself slightly and muttered for the Messengers, who showed up briefly after. Hefting the arm he handed it over to them, helping them lower it into the oblivion of the Nightmare realm they used to store things. When that was finished, Farren glanced back at the body. He could probably take more of it apart and store it…but he wasn’t sure if there was limited space in his ‘storage’ realm or if things could affect eachother at all while in it together. So he didn’t. After all, the beast’s still undead body did not seem to be going anywhere so if the initial part was of some use he figured that he could come retrieve more…and with an actual team to transport it.

That done, Farren turned away from the felled beast.

Ophelia turned her attention to the matter of the Lightbeast a ssoon as it was raised, stepping away from the corpse of the Darkbeast and its head--beginning to quietly seethe to herself that it had no eyes for her to take--and over towards it and Gerlinde. She looked at the Lightbeast with an expression that shifted from sated and proud to deeply melancholy, and she walked up to the creature with a determined but subdued gait.

"This... this was a person once, I think." Ophelia began, and as she stood directly in front of the creature she brought her right hand up to gently place it upon the side of their snout. "Just like the Hunters who didn't make it through the experiment... I... I don't know if I can. I think what makes a beast is... in nature, not in form. Who knows if this one has given in to base desire and instinct? If they haven't, I can't kill them... not while some of them remains. Do you understand us, love? I see you moving your head to whichever of us speaks..." Ophelia began, addressing the Lightbeast directly. She thought of the languid sigh that it'd emitted before, and figured that speech was perhaps beyond it--but perhaps it might nod or... do something? Her heart swelled with pity, thinking how the poor creature had been subjected to the awful voltaic power of that Darkbeast that she'd suffered only once and knew that if she never experienced it again it would be too soon. The matter was something that sparked a deep conflict that had been burning within her for the past few hours, as she'd begun to evaluate where her hatred of beasts came from--and the way it rattled her was, sadly, plain upon her face.

The lightbeast fixed its eyeless stare at Ophelia, leaning gently into her hand, and slowly nodded its head up and down. She could faintly see a shimmer of warm light momentarily in the creature's empty sockets and felt something like a warm caress crawling up her right arm, rejuvenating her and – she could tell – replenishing her regenerative potential.
A soft croon emerged from deep in the lightbeast's throat, and in tried in vain to move from the spot. It turned its head to the stake pinning its hands to the ground and whined.

Ophelia sighed ruefully at the Lightbeast's response and nodded, turning her head over her shoulder to get Farren's attention behind her.

"Do you think we can remove these stakes? I know it might take a little while, but... it'll get rid of the illusion, and the... fog? This poor thing deserves to be far away from Yahar'gul, and it'll achieve our goals too. I'll do my best to help, love, I promise." Ophelia called out, addressing the Lightbeast directly with her last statement and giving it another grateful rub in response to the warm tingle of regeneration energy.

"There'll be echoes aplenty further in Yahar'gul, Gerlinde. I'll also remind you that, on top of it being awful, the Lightbeast's regenerative power was such that we couldn't even scratch the Darkbeast. It's surviving this torture, even now. When they had you in your room in Byrgenwerth, did you ever pray for a saviour? For someone to take you away from the awful people who hurt you? There wasn't anybody to save you then, but there is someone who we could save now." Ophelia added to Gerlinde, though her tone never took on a chiding or authoritative tone--just a deep and profound empathy for both this creature and for what Gerlinde had gone through. The very air here was tainted with agony, and Gerlinde was quite mad, so if she would receive it that way was another matter entirely--but Ophelia seemed to have found a certain firmness in her conviction, at least, and she began to assess how they might best remove the various bits of masonry by looking over the Lightbeast's situation more thoroughly.

_Farren

watched as Ophelia began to move away from the Darkbeast and he followed in kind, so that when she eventually turned to seek him, he was only a meter or so behind and to her left. He’d been watching the Lightbeast as she’d interacted with it and he had a faint frown creasing his brow, though it faded after a moment as he gave a slight shrug. “Certainly…and if you lent a hand, Torquil, it’d likely go twice as fast,” the last he added as he glanced in the armored man’s direction. After a moment he glanced back to the Lightbeast and approached it at a measured pace, his discerning gaze vigilantly remaining focused on the beast.

It did not seem hostile, but even a beast could have animal cunning. “Gerlinde, in case it’s an act, I want you ready to strike it at,” he said, giving her a glance before he took a knee beside one of its staked hands. Farren looked it over for a moment, trying to ascertain whether it was mostly in the ground or mostly exposed to open air. It only took him a brief moment before he went about loosening the chain, though he couldn’t easily maneuver it with the beast’s bulk in the way and its hands still bound to the ground by the stake. Once there was enough slack, Farren repositioned himself, nodded and warped both hands around the handle. Wrenching upwards with slowly increasing strength, Farren only used as much as he needed to in order to pull the blade of the stake out of the creature’s impaled hands.

He’d still stumble back and away a bit when the blade came out, ending up with the stake in one hand, the chain trailing back to the wrists of the Lightbeast, which he regarded with wary, discerning eyes.

“Do whatever you want,” Gerlinde told Ophelia with a shrug, her eyes beginning to wander as the situation and conversation lost her interest. It was at this moment that the red blaze that had enveloped her threaded cane throughout the entire fight finally dispersed, leaving behind the weapon only slightly singed.
She turned to Farren and transformed her weapon into its whip-form. “I'm always ready.”

With Gerlinde standing by ready to attack at the first sign of hostility, Farren and – at Farren's request and instruction – Torquil set about trying to free the lightbeast's hands. It took a couple of minutes with how securely its wrists had been bound with the chain, but with combined efforts they eventually managed to loosen its bonds and to retrieve the stake. Through it all, the lightbeast simply remained still and watched in silence.
The holes through the creature's hands that had been kept open by the stake closed in an instant, and it slowly turned its hands so they were palm-up and brought them up to its face. It seemed to take a couple of seconds to just stare at its own disfigured hands, awkwardly clenching and unfurling its red, twisted fingers.

As the stake was pulled from the lightbeast's flesh, Ophelia would immediately see that the flow of Guidance sprites along the chain ceased, leaving the chain inert and eventually ending the curtain of them covering the entrance to the alcove. The illusion that had hidden this place for however long it had been in place, it seemed, had been dispelled.

The lightbeast sat up as best it could while still being impaled on the tombstone stake and having its feet pinned to the ground. It lowered its head, brought its hands together in front of its chest and folded its fingers in a strikingly familiar gesture, clearly resembling the traditional pose taken during prayer. Every movement made its joints creak and groan audibly, and thick layers of silt and dust that had caked on its hide during its long time being inert drizzled from its moving form.
It remained like this for about ten seconds, but while to most of them it appeared that it was simply offering up a silent prayer, Ophelia would once again see something else. As the creature prayed, first one, then two, then several motes of moonlight seemed to manifest out of thin air near it and be drawn toward its hands, where they started orbiting them, until dozens of them were swarming around its folded hands like moths around a flame.
Only then did the lightbeast unfold its hands and, very slowly and carefully, reached its right hand toward Ophelia. It extended its long, blood-red index-finger toward her, and all the Guidance sprites seemed to siphon into its fingertip, and all of them – not just Ophelia – would see it giving off a faint pale glow that was quite different from the warm one signifying its healing power.
It carefully tapped Ophelia on her forehead with the fingertip, and the light transferred into her, resulting in a very bizarre sensation for Ophelia as alien insight suddenly flowed into her. Knowledge of things beyond this world, of words and concepts beyond mortal comprehension... things she could barely wrap her head around, let alone reach any kind of sufficient understanding of. Yet all of it ultimately crystallized into its simplest form: a Caryll Rune.

Ophelia has obtained the Mask Rune, which allows one to see through all arcane illusions. Also makes you immune to eldritch influence.

Ophelia accepted the touch of the Lightbeast gratefully, having witnessed the growing power accumulating around them as they'd begun to pray--which, to her mind, was a still unmistakeably human sentiment and not something one without higher thought would be capable of. She felt the unfamiliar rush of knowledge and concepts that she could see the shape of but not determine the more specific qualities about, she tried vainly to understand the torrent of overwhelming information, and eventually came to a point of crystallised understanding as a Caryll Rune made itself known in her mind.

"Oh, love, bless you--this is... this is exactly what we needed. Come, let's get the rest of this off of you." Ophelia almost-whispered, deeply moved by the outreach of this poor, tortured creature they'd been fortunate enough to come across and be able to help. She moved with redoubled effort, now actively joining in on the effort to remove the mess of chains and impaling stakes that kept the Lightbeast pinned. She briefly wished that the Dream could offer the poor creature sanctuary, that Mother Moon's light would reveal to them a path forward and hide the darkest corners of their torment away in silvery shadow--but she thought such a thing impossible.

She took a quick second to lean down and beckon forth the messengers, quickly scribing a message to the Shopkeeper:

"Darkbeast slain. Lightbeast freed. If we cannot offer the Dream as sanctuary, might you know somewhere the Lightbeast can live in peace?"

Immediately thereafter, she called out to the others.

"They taught me a rune, dears, and not just any rune--one capable of seeing through arcane illusions... and more than that, capable of resisting eldritch influences. No more 'nice old man'. I... I have to get back to the White Workshop--Dietrich needs to be branded with the rune and freed from the influences that befuddle him. Not immediately, but... it is next on my list of things to do. I'm certain I can get some more blood vials for us, too."

_Farren

watched warily as the beast began to move, but he didn’t strike and unable to see the gathering motes of light as Ophelia could, Farren reacted not in the slightest once it had settled into a state resembling prayer. Frowning, the azure-eyed hunter regarded the beast for a long moment before shaking his head slightly. Then it reached out to Ophelia and his eyes widened fractionally, but before he could act, its claw lightly tapped his ally’s forehead and a series of expressions seemed to wash over the woman’s features. Farren took a single step forward, but again before he might do something drastic, Ophelia spoke and Farren’s eyes darted to her, noting that she seemed entirely unharmed.

He started to relax, though he gave the white-haired beast a suspicious look. However, as Ophelia explained what the beast had done, his brows rose and his eyes widened. Farren wanted that Rune on his mind…but not before they returned to the Dream, for as much as he itched for it…for the influence of that Garden to be well and truly gone, he knew it wasn’t practical to assume there would be no further encounters ahead of them. After all, more echoes riding within his blood was a blessing all its own and it was not one he would so simply give up on for the mere comfort that this new Rune might offer..

“Teach it to us,” Farren said, his voice stiff and measured as he held back how badly he wanted that power. “...but I will keep the Heir Rune for now…until we return at least.” That said, Farren joined her in fully freeing the lightbeast for though he remained vigilant and somewhat wary, much of his suspicion had waned.

With the united efforts of Ophelia, Farren, Torquil and the lightbeast itself – which proved quite capable of handling its own restraints now that its hands were free – the remaining chains were quickly unraveled and both the stake through its feet and its chest were removed. As each great, sharp amalgamation of stone and steel was removed, the wounds they kept from closing seemed to regenerate instantly, and the flow of Guidance sprites ceased instantly. It also seemed quite clear that the beast grew more energetic and enthusiastic for each stake removed from it, moving faster and more eagerly.
Finally the last stake and chain fell away, and the lightbeast – for the first time in gods knew how long – stood up and stretched its impressive frame like a cat, first its forelimbs, then its hind legs. It occasionally made a delighted noise, almost like a trill.

As the stake and chain on the lightbeast's feet were removed, the fog wall quickly dissipated and left only an open gateway that appeared to lead directly into Yahar'gul proper. Gerlinde, who had spent the time leaning against the side of the gatehouse and twirling her threaded cane silently while attentively watching the lightbeast, seemed to perk up and leaned over to peek through it.

Within several seconds of Ophelia sending her message to the Shopkeeper, the Messengers returned with a reply in impeccable calligraphy:

Well done. Our apologies for what happened, but we have never seen a darkbeast fight like that.

A few seconds later another pair of Messengers arrived with another scroll:

Only Paleblood Hunters can enter the Hunter's Dream. While there are shelters for humans and Yharnamites, we fear that there is nowhere safe for a beast on a Night of the Hunt that we know of. Our best suggestion might be Old Yharnam.

In addition to all of that going on, Ophelia would also hear the whispers of the Holy Moonlight Sword while she was working: “The Huntress has defeated powerful prey. It senses her strength, and that of her allies. Her glory. It once more offers her guidance, and wishes to send her on a holy mission. To find its other half. Will the wielder aid it in this pursuit?”

Ophelia read the rapid response eagerly, the first one eliciting a coy smirk from her and the second a thoughtful nod. She looked up at the Lightbeast in the middle of its newfound freedom and smiled brightly, moving to position herself so she was in front of them and could speak with them more directly.

"There are so few places that can offer sanctuary now, love, as it's a Night of the Hunt. Old Yharnam... I used to visit a church there, when I was a little girl--the Church of the Good Chalice. If it's intact and uninhabited, it might offer some peace... and Old Yharnam is rarely visited besides. Thank you, and I'm so very glad that we could free you from this awful place. We'll be heading to Old Yharnam at some point, so... if we see you there, I'll come and visit. Perhaps I can tell you the stories of what we've been up to?" Ophelia spoke, her beaming smile somewhat taking on a tinge of melancholy as she recalled that few places would really be anything approaching safe.

While she was speaking she felt the whispers begin to trickle into her mind, too, and she was (as always) elated to receive the Holy Mooonlight Sword's guidance. She nodded along to it solemnly and replied in her mind: Always, my guiding moonlight. We are of one will. Whisper to me where to go, and what I need to know, and we shall carve a trail of glory across this city.

"Right, my dears, I think it's time we found a lantern in Yahar'gul proper, no? Once we have a foothold here, Naira will have little choice but to negotiate with us--if slaying that abhorrent monstrosity wasn't enough, picking off her Followers until naught remains should serve as a pacifying fact of her new reality. Ah, but how foolish of me, Farren is right, I have insights to share! Come, come, let us all partake of this bounty. Would... either of you like me to apply it now? Farren... I understand, and it isn't like we can't just apply it whenever we might need. I think it might be a good idea to apply it to you, Torquil?"

_Farren

nodded idly in response, though his eyes blazed slightly as he regarded Ophelia with a somewhat intense expression that only calmed once she’d assured them she’d be sharing the Rune. When she demonstrated it, he’d be paying very close attention, but thereafter he’d pull away, turning towards the path that had been opened for them. Walking, he joined Gerlinde where she was peeking past where the fog gate once had been. Farren didn’t peek, he just looked straight through the open threshold and after briefly taking in what he could see, he stepped past it after drawing the Beastcutter into both hands, braced in front of him, but not in such a way that would cause him problems stepping through the doorway.

Clearly he was quite ready to push onwards.

The lightbeast sat back on its haunches and seemed as though it listened intently to what Ophelia told it, then nodded its head. Leaning back even further and lifting its hands off the ground, the huge creature made a small, sweeping gesture with its hands, which bore a passing semblance to a feminine curtsy, before bringing one red-fingered hand, palm inward, up to its head.
Once more Ophelia would see Guidance sprites start appearing and accumulating around its hand, only for the lightbeast to lower its hand toward its chest... and, as it did so, it shimmered and disappeared. But even though no one else would be able to see or hear the faintest trace of it, Ophelia would still see the swarm of Guidance sprites that seemed to follow its invisible form as it moved out of the alcove and disappeared around the left corner, heading east.
Torquil, obedient as ever, uncritically accepted Ophelia's recommendation to be branded with the Mask Rune.

The Holy Moonlight Sword continued to whisper once it got Ophelia's consent: “Its other half is not in this city, nor is it fully in the Waking World. Just as it once was, its other half is in the Interstice... what you call the Old Labyrinth. It waits deep within, in places untouched by common Hunters... But you are Paleblood. You need not traverse the entire Interstice to get there. You can get there through communion, if you get the right holy chalice. The chalice you need is at the throne of this land. Getting it will be the first step to obtaining its full glory.”

Farren, meanwhile, entered through the gateway and crossed the threshold into Yahar'gul, the Unseen Village. Instantly upon setting foot on the first bit of cobbled road – for the path within the walls did indeed appear to be cobbled – even he would be able to plainly feel the atmosphere that Ophelia had caught hints off while she had worn the Dream Rune. A heavy, oppressive sense of tragedy and menace filled the air, weighing him down in a way he had never experienced before. Sound seemed strangely muffled suddenly, colors seemed bizarrely desaturated... and a strange, acrid smell wafted past him from sources unknown.
Before him stretched a wide, single street that seemed to just continue forever, seemingly running the entire length of Yahar'gul, flanked on either side by tall buildings of various shapes and make, all of them dark in color, making the environment look as though the gloom was even deeper than it was. But the atmosphere aside, there was no doubt even at a glance that something was deeply wrong here, as the sides of the street were lined with what appeared to be large, elaborate statues of misshapen humans. Humans with elongated arms, legs and necks, humans with mouths stretched unnaturally wide in silent screams, humans with eyes that were open much wider than they should be able to in the face of some inconceivable terror. Even just looking at them, Farren would feel as though he could faintly hear the echoes of their cacophonous wailing, the horrified cries of people helpless to escape the fate visited upon them.
And it was not just one or two in a few places; the statues were everywhere. All along the street, both in the middle of the road and in huge, tangled messes along the walls of the buildings, there appeared to be many hundreds of these unnerving statues. Looking to either side directly inside the gateway, Farren would find that the outer wall that he had just entered through had even more of them than anywhere else. The statues made it appear as though masses of people had tried to flee Yahar'gul and had come here, trampling each other and creating a pile of bodies that they tried desperately to use to climb the wall. Hands reaching desperately toward the top, faces petrified in agony.
There were so many screaming figures... and yet the place was eerily silent. Not even the wind seemed willing to disturb the perfect stillness this place.
Aside from the ridiculous number of statues, he would also see some weird plant life that was quite obviously not of the Waking World. Spread out with about fifteen meters or so between them, the street was flanked by some kind of... trees? They vaguely resembled trees, each one about seven meters tall with straight, lumpy trunks and topped with some kind of bulbous growth. They were dark red and black, and rather than having bark or leaves, they appeared disturbingly fleshy. As if they were some sort of creature only mimicking trees... or trees mimicking creatures?
But vitally, just fifty meters beyond the gate, he spotted the welcome and familiar sight of a lantern that could be connected to the Dream, right in the middle of the street.