The Hunter's Dream
The doll looked to the Shopkeeper, then back to Ophelia. “The Shopkeeper is aware of the other Hunters you speak of, though their nature confuses them greatly. Not only has there never been this many Hunters bound to the Dream at once, – even the four we have now is more than I have ever seen – but something also seems to be awry with many of those currently undergoing metamorphosis. A process that should have been a guaranteed success has turned unreliable, and several among the marked have perished before they could even complete their transformation. And many of those who have yet to awaken – if not all of them – may never wake at all. It is most perplexing and unnerving.”
Again the doll paused, seemingly listening to something only she could hear. “While it is true that they witnessed the old Healing Church at their worst, good Hunter, the same could be said for all the factions of Yharnam. On that dreadful night, nigh all who strayed anywhere near the city were driven mad or became beasts. But it is true that the Shopkeeper also found evidence of the wickedness of the Healing Church that far predated the Blood Moon. They were a vile, ruthless institution, and they do not lament their downfall.
They are not certain whether the new Healing Church is any better or worse than the old one, however. From what they know, the new Church are much more cautious with their experimentation, at least, though they seem even more reckless with their reliance on the Old Blood than the old one. All they know for certain is that the White Church seems quite hostile toward them, though they have done nothing to deserve such enmity. They have also not heard anything about the Church having found a way to link to the Dream, and none of the Church have come here as of yet... though it would not surprise them if they were trying to achieve such a thing.”
To Ophelia's last request, the doll bowed yet again, the Shopkeeper merely offered a curt nod of their head whereas Torquil immediately and awkwardly started shuffling toward the door. Ultimately, though, all three of them left and headed back outside and down the stairs there, past the tall headstones the doll had previously mentioned.
Now that the doll had called attention to it, Torquil noticed lines of letters carved into each of these headstones, most of which glittered with a silver sheen, but a couple of which had a golden hue, too. On the last headstone, lowest on the slope, he also spotted the glowing spot the doll had mentioned, waiting for one of them to give it a name.