One of the first differences I noticed was in the garden itself. The change noted being a significant lack of graves where they were in the dream. There was one still present that I was going to inspect before leaving. The birdbath was gone as well, with nothing to signify its spot as important.

Further changes in the garden included the portion of the garden where Gherman liked to sleep simply not existing. Doll was nowhere outside. The moon seemed so far away from this place when I looked. That triggered a feeling inside that was difficult to pin down, one like I just realised how far away from home I was.

Melancholia?

I was very far from anywhere I could think of as home.

Anyway, inside the workshop was a state of disrepair even worse than the one in the dream. Even the scythe handle was gone, but there were a few things to take note of. The doll, abandoned in a dark corner of the workshop, for one. That made me pause.

It wasn't just a doll. It was Doll. Completely inanimate, just sitting there with her head resting at an inhuman angle as she sat against the wall.

I stepped through the creaking building slowly, listening out and exploring with my bugs. This seemed to be a dead end, and there was nowhere to go but back, so after a while I relaxed my guard. My bugs coalesced outside and I watched out with them as I crouched in front of the doll.

I lifted the doll's head with my hand and found it wooden to the touch, just like the one in the dream. Nothing happened. I put the doll's head back, correcting the angle to look more natural, then I turned around. There was… something on the alter I hadn't given proper attention to yet.

It was a strip of flesh that was coiled in on itself. It looked old and gey, and had probably been here for some time, yet dust had not gathered on it like it had on the discarded pages that it shared the top of the alter with. All along it were what could have been eyes, but were small, barely the size of the fingernail on my pinky, and were pure black. As the strip of flesh coiled in, the eyes became smaller, but remained comparatively sized to the thickness of the flesh.

But the eyes kept going while the flesh inevitably ended. It hurt to look at. I wanted to destroy it.

Why I wanted to destroy it was difficult to say. Possibly- probably because it reminded me of the form I had seen in Cauldron's base. The form I had seen Scion destroy, at least partially, before fleeing the falling complex. Yet, that didn't seem like enough. Still, I had my gun pointed at the strip of flesh.

I wasn't able to rationalise it, so I didn't. The gun was holstered and I called some bugs to headbutt the strip. The headbutting commenced and then ceased after a few seconds. Nothing changed other than the bugs getting sore heads.

I stepped closer and forced myself to look at the strip of flesh. Was this the 'anchor' Teilgean had told me about? It felt just about weird enough to be that anchor, but I wasn't convinced. A weird, very demented part of me entertained the idea of eating the strip of flesh. I shot that part of me and locked them in master/stranger confinement seeing as the coffin I normally used was at the bottom of a cliff.

Whatever this thing was, it reeked of powers. Wet tinker bullshit, specifically. I was put in the mind of Iosefka, but brushed that off. Iosefka was a now problem, one that had only recently come into power. This had been left here for a long time, going by the dust. The only people with access to this place were ones with a deathwish.

Iosefka would have made it blue, probably. That seemed to be her thing. The slug and the two creatures- Iosefka and what I assumed was the old woman- were both blue. Possibly an aesthetic quirk of her power, but not grounds to rule her out.

What were the alternatives then? Another adversary I hadn't encountered yet? I ran through the names I had heard but not met. Paleblood was the first to leap to mind. The only capacity in which I knew him or her was through the massage I woke up with. 'Seek Paleblood to transcend the hunt.'

The concept of transcending coupled with the strip of flesh's abstract nature could be perceived as a connection, but that again felt weak.

Gherman then. That connection felt stronger, seeing as he was the sole resident of a dream that had recreated this place with frightening accuracy. Doll was a doll, while Gherman had confessed to living in Yharnam. If anyone knew what this thing was, it was him. After all, who knew what he was hiding, sitting in the wheelchair of his and dozing off half the time.

I drew a blank when it came to thinking up anyone else that might be related. Except for Cauldron of course, but Cauldron was dead. Come to think of it, it was possible that they had some involvement, but I hadn't seen any evidence of their work so far. That, of course, didn't rule them out, but I had a gut feeling that this wasn't them. When I had the sight of the Clairvoyant, this place, Earth Yharm, hadn't registered.

Which was really fucking strange, now that I thought about it. But it wasn't like I had the Clairvoyant around to double check.

That delivered me to my next conundrum. What to do with the strip of flesh? Leaving it here was an option, but one that I didn't feel was smart. So long as it was possibly the anchor, it would have use to me. So then do I pick it up? If so, how do I carry it? It was dripping something, and it sure as hell didn't look like water.

On that note, I separated the bugs that had headbutted it from the bugs that had not. There was nothing noticeably different about any of them so far.

"Sorry, Doll." I took off her hat and placed it up side down. Then I piled several sheets of paper in there, then I placed the glove I wasn't using on the strip of flesh and gripped it through that. The strip went into the hat, and I pulled the strings tight with some difficulty. If I got in a fight, I'd probably lose it, but I was planning on reawakening to get out of here.

When I turned around, there was a lantern in the middle of the workshop. It wasn't lit, but it certainly hadn't been there before. That struck me as strange.

The lanterns appeared in places of sanctuary or achievement. The sanctuaries so far tentatively included that sickroom on the first floor of Iosefka's, the ledge by Gilbert's, and the chapel I met Teilgean in. The achievements were the prey I slaughtered. The Cleric Beast, and my not-brother, and now this place.

What had I achieved? Did the Hunter's Dream view me collecting this strip of flesh as something worth rewarding? The questions for Gehrman were mounting.

I lit the lantern with a touch, and watched that pale light ripple across its many surfaces, then the little ones rising to maintain and worship it, but I didn't travel through. There was still a grave to visit.

It was a strange placement for a headstone, the stone had been placed so that there was little room between it and the path leading to the workshop. The headstone itself was very close to the workshop as well, what that meant beyond someone viewing it as important, I couldn't say. There wasn't enough space to bury a body there, unless the body was buried upright, which I doubted would happen, or they were buried in the fetal position. Or maybe it was for a child, it was hard to say.

It was also possible there was no body and that the marker was for remembrance.

I believed the headstone was placed in remembrance. The body of the deceased must have been important to the one who used this place. Gehrman, obviously. But that's kind of why what I found there was so strange.

In that small patch of dirt between the headstone and the path was a bone just barely visible, half buried in dirt. The bone had been broken in two. It was easy to tell because the snapped end was the one I could see. I crouched in front of the grave and read the name on the inscription. One word.

Maria

So there was a body.

I brushed some of the dirt off of the bone and braced for something to happen when I touched it. Nothing happened as far as I could tell. No vertigo or headache came rushing on, just dirt being moved and some of it sticking to my glove.

That's where I stopped. Sure, I could kill people, sacrifice them to save humanity, destroy anyone trying to harm someone I cared about, and so on and so forth. But there was nothing motivating me or necessitating me robbing this grave.

The only reason I was here was for an anchor, which felt contrived in the first place. I was here because someone told me I'd get an arm here, and it wouldn't take much away from me. I was supposed to be finding little Taylor somewhere to be safe, why was I robbing a grave? The only reason this bone could be used as an anchor…

A bone would probably make a better anchor than an abstract piece of meat. I pulled it up and stowed the piece of bone away. It was shorter than I expected it to be.

Before I made it back to the lamp, one of my bugs climbed over a comb. I glanced back at Doll, and saw her hair was ruffled from how I'd taken the hat. Feeling a little guilty, I took the comb and brushed the hair straight again. It wasn't something I'd have done if I hadn't held a conversation with a living duplicate of the doll.

Feeling weird, but strangely satisfied with my work, which hadn't returned the doll's hair to how it was when I found her by any means but now it was at least neat, I placed the comb in the doll's hand and left for the dream.

~drip~drip~drip~

****t s**** **th *h** ***

"Gehrman, wake up." I shook the old man's shoulders. He roused slowly. I took the time to move in front of him and cross my arm.

"Ah. Aah… hunter." He took a moment to make sure he wasn't drooling any. "What brings you to me this time?"

I unceremoniously dropped the hat with the strip of flesh into his lap. "I've been exploring out there. Found a tower, did some vertical inspection, found something strange." I gestured at the workshop. "Inside was something even stranger."

Gehrman held onto his cane with one hand while opening the package with the other. The liquid hadn't run through, thankfully. Though I was beginning to suspect the liquid was benign. He sighed when he unveiled the strip within.

"Why, I never thought I'd-" He caught himself and looked up to me with a dangerous glint in his eye. "Do you know what this is?"

"If I did, would I be asking you?" I saw his reaction, the wince. "I take that back, I'd still be asking you. Probably less nicely. What is that?"

Gehrman ignored all the safety precautions I had made moving the strip of flesh and picked it up with his bare hands. He cupped the strip and held it closer to him. "Tell me, hunter. What do you know of the Great Ones?"

Big fucking alarm bells went off in my head. "That they're important and a crazy woman idolizes them. But you know more than that, don't you?"

Gehrman nodded and let his hands fall into his lap, still cradling the strip of flesh. "This is an umbilical cord. Well… part of one. Taken from a stillborn birth."

"You were talking about things called 'Great Ones', and now you're talking about dead babies?"

I was testing Gehrman's patience, but beyond a controlled snort he maintained appearances. "Young hunter… You have stumbled upon something irrelevant to your hunt. Were I you, I would acknowledge this third of umbilical cord holds nothing of benefit to me and continue with what was left of my life."

"Gehrman," I ignored how he flinched when I said his name. "I don't care about any 'benefits' that strip of flesh can give me. The reason I woke you up and asked you about it was because I found this workshop in the real world. On that alter in the workshop? That's where I found this. What I want is for you to explain yourself."

Gehrman breathed out heavily. "I made a mistake, young hunter."

"Taylor." I corrected snappily. "I'm using your name, the least you could do is use mine."

Gehrman didn't look happy about that. "Well... Taylor, I would advise you that some things are beyond your concern."

"That doesn't change the fact that I'm concerned." I thought briefly, then lazily swept my leg, hitting Gehrman's peg leg and making it bend uncomfortably before returning my foot to the ground. "I'm also the one with both legs. I'm the one doing this 'hunt' you're supposed to be advising me on, except you spend all your time snoring. Doll is doing a better job than you. But I suppose she has to, since she's the one with the power that benefits the hunter. All you are is belligerent, and aloof.

"Do you remember what I said when I first came here? That me being alive wasn't supposed to be in the cards? That means I have less reason to play by the rules you set up. For all I know, I could find out something that will make me flip out and kill you tomorrow. I've seen it happen once already, and I don't think I've even been here longer than a few days. Answer my question, or I'll treat you like all the enemies I put in the dirt before I lost the ability to die."

Gehrman was quiet for a good long while before he sighed. "Taylor, please believe me when I say that I have your best interests at heart."

"If you want me to believe that, then give me a reason to."

He said nothing.

The silence said a lot.

I let the silence reign and walked away. He had a haunted look about him, and with the implications he'd brought up I was content to let him haunt himself for a while.

Doll was kneeling by the grave that existed in the real world. She stood as I approached. While I had passed her when I was traveling to Gehrman, I hadn't looked at her face, but now that I was in front of her...

"Doll, you're crying."

She daintily touched her cheek with a fingertip. The wooden hand came away with a sparkling teardrop. Doll took a step sideways, not to move, but to balance.

"I do not know what is happening to me." She confessed.

I stepped closer, ready to catch her if I needed to. "What's wrong? Were you listening to Gehrman and I?"

"No, I was-" She seemed to miss the sentence she was trying to complete. "I felt a yearning. Something I have never felt before. It started here," She placed a hand over her abdomen, then moved it to over her breast where the other one met with it in a gesture almost like praying. "And then it rose. It was… happiness, possibly?" Doll looked at me quizzically. "Do you know what happiness feels like?"

"Uh." My brain missed a stair as I desperately tried to sort through my memories. Other people kept getting in the way.

"Taylor." Doll brought me out of my fruitless scavenge through my own memories. "For some reason I cannot recall, I feel... confident. I would like to try and see if I could channel your echoes into something more sturdy that what we have seen previously."

I was still trying to get over the fact that I couldn't bring up any happy memories. Did the english lessons with Taylor count? No, that was overshadowed by my guilt of killing her father. So then what? "You're talking about my arm?" She nodded. I wasn't sure why everyone was so fixated on my arm now, but I couldn't deny that I'd be more effective with one. "Sure."

Doll knelt and I let her activate her power. Thanks to me trying to get over the fact that I wasn't coming up with any happy memories, I got caught by Doll's orb and she had to remind me to shut my eyes. When she asked me where I wanted my echoes to go, I told her to put them into making my body more sturdy again. Offensively, I was doing just fine.

Memories of the ones I killed, and memories of how I killed them rushed past. It was incredibly strange, experiencing both ends of a murder, but I pushed past that. Once the echoes had passed, I opened my eyes and saw the pale appendage once more, barely more than an outline.

Teilgean had mentioned a need of an anchor. If I just had one on me, then it wasn't good enough. The umbilical cord was with Gehrman, and I didn't think the arm would survive the walk over to take it back. The comb. I had brushed Doll's hair with it, and then she had started crying. It had a connection to the dream, why did I leave it there?

No point in kicking myself, my time was running out. Already this arm had been around for as long as the first one. Doll was staring at it, still kneeling as if the act of her standing up would break it. Her hope for this to succeed wasn't an intense one, rather it was soft. Willing to guide the echoes along the way, but not to force them.

A saying about horses and water came to mind, but I banished that. Not helpful.

I had Maria's bone on me, still, probably. It occurred to me the grave may have been marked wrong. Pointless thought to have now. The echo of my arm had an outline. Skin, almost. It didn't have anything but fake stars inside it, maybe it needed a bone? It probably didn't matter who the bone came from if it did.

Getting the bone out meant I had to shift myself, and the arm threatened to break because of it. Once it was out I had my fake right arm held in an awkward position and my left arm holding a broken bone, not quite sure what to do with it. I didn't know how much longer the arm would stay, so I pushed the bone into the arm and expected it to break the fragile projection.

When only the top layer of the arm broke I was pleasantly surprised. While pale lines fractured and spun out, the mist from within coalesced around the bone, then tugged it from my grasp with a surprising strength. It floated the bone to the centre of the projection, then shifted so the complete end of the bone was by the wrist. The frayed lines slowly reformed and pulled themselves back together.

The fog within billowed in and within itself, and seemed to multiply within the confines of the arm. It became dense enough that it stopped looking like smoke, and the colour shifted slightly until it almost matched the colour of my skin. It didn't look quite right. There was still a pale shimmer, and the light caught in strange places as it moved.

Doll watched in rapture as I rotated my wrist and flexed my fingers. I was getting feedback, possibly more than I had been getting before. Eventually I extended my hand forwards like I was offering a handshake. Doll seemed confused until it clicked for her that I was offering a handshake.

"Good hunter…" She uttered as she grasped my hand. I felt all the wooden joints in her fingers and palm. The sensation almost let me imagine the shape in my mind.

"Thank you, Doll." I said, genuine, but distracted. I had just noticed how her hair was falling asymmetrically around her face. Once side had been brushed much less tidily than the other.

And with that, my arm shattered. This time there was enough there for pain to register and a pained sound left my mouth. It was worse than losing the original, which had taken a while to register. No shock for this arm, but the pain became phantom after a split second, as there was no longer anything to feel.

The bone hit the floor.

Doll let out a disappointed sigh. "I felt… as though I could sustain it for you. I'm sorry I could not. What was it that you used?"

"Maria's bone." I told her as I picked it up. "It's a shame. I'd have liked a hand."

Doll tilted her head quizzically.

"Nevermind."