Chapter II: Salvation...
To my surprise, I found myself waking up in eerie stillness, the air itself seeming heavy, yet soothing... The strange place appeared to me as a small building, located in a garden of sorts... The most striking of details was the fact that, despite appearing perfectly calm, the strong feeling of uneasiness was greatly amplified still by the unnerving presence of the gardens decorations... Countless gravestones circled the small house on the hill, paving the way like an unnatural fence. I found my feelings contradictory, since, as paradoxical as it may seem, the presence of that strange feeling in the back of my head somehow soothed me...
Rising up, my trance was broken by the sudden realization of what had just transpired earlier, as the shocking truth slapped me like thunder; I was dead... or at the very least supposed to be dead. A slight fit of panic was quickly dismissed as I began checking my body for injuries... The pain lingered still as a painful memory suddenly crossed my mind... In vivid detail, I remembered the last gruesome moments of my supposed death, from my pointless struggle to survive, down to the very last breath as I was mauled to a bloody pulp by an angry monstrosity, the ravenous beast delighting itself in ripping the flesh from my motionless body, with me laying there, numb, as I watched in horror the gruesome display. Yet still, further unexplained, my body held no wounds, no marks, not even shreds in the clothing or traces of dirt and blood. I found myself smiling with sadness upon the sudden realization that, despite my best of efforts, I failed in my quest... I was not a hunter, or a knight, or even a commoner. I could not hunt the beasts, transcend the hunt, find the last remnants of my ancient past, nor could I find a peaceful life for myself to retire to... I was simply that... dead. As my mind wrapped around it, I could see no other explanation, and yet, despite an eerie sad smile creeping upon myself, I was strangely content... I was, for the first time in my rather long life, able to rest, free of burden, of responsibility...
Letting this small moment of saddening calm pass, I found myself exploring the surroundings... I couldn't shake off the strong feeling of floating that I was getting in the depth of my stomach... Gazing into the distant fog that made up my horizon, all I could see were tall pillars, seemingly unending in their grandeur, rising from the nothingness around... There was no sound, no cold, no ground... The small hill and the house atop appeared to be floating in the endless void, the eye of the storm, the soothing deathly calm encompassing all, dissolving existence itself to dust... Walking still, I found myself stopping in front of a small pool of water, laying in a stone basin of intricate design, still and crystal clear, like a mirror in the fog... Overwhelmed by nostalgia, I found myself gazing down the watery abyss, only to be greeted by the reflection of my own visage in the empty stillness. It was a strangely familiar feeling, bringing forth great emotion... As I contemplated upon the nature of this place, I found my mind wandering blankly through the long lost passages of my life as Knight Commander, with all its glory and sophistication, and yet still, with all its gruesome horrors... I suddenly became self-conscious of my parasitic nature, a vampire leeching off of the blood of others, in order to further maintain its power... I remembered the taste of the sweet blood, or the emotionless bathing in the blood of the enemies, of other hunters, as my blade sliced silently through their very beings, leaving behind mere lumps of flesh, barely disassembled from the original by the cleanest of cuts... I remembered the torment I aided in, bringing dregs to the old queen, I remembered the debauchery and excess of the nobility that I indulged myself in, my eerie smile, bordering into manifestations of both lust and gluttony, at another tiny drop of royal, tainted blood, oh so intoxicating...
A single tear dropped, disturbing the silent stillness of the watery mirror, as I painfully concluded I did not deserve to rest like this... I could not deny the monster inside, the hunger, the bloodlust-fueled desire, the exquisite sensation of its fulfillment. A beast shouldn't be allowed to rest like this, and that was all I was... I suddenly felt empty inside as I instinctively reached towards my face, fingers touching the slight wetness of my right cheek... The irony was there, for one who gave up on humanity to still find within himself a human, even if it was death that brought it... My brief moment of sad reverie ended abruptly, my face turning stone cold as I was awakened by a sudden revelation... Gazing again into the water I observed a small detail I seemed to have briefly forgotten, in my brief moment of painful nostalgia... The silver mirror of water reflected my stone-cold, statuesque visage, my fingers resting on a long scar crossing my cheek from just below the right eye... The three cuts, one significantly longer than the others, were brought by one of my first hunts, at the very peak of the beastly outbreak of the plague... A noble had turned and I was asked to dispatch the newly awakened beast before a ruckus could shake the castle... The fight, no matter how brief or discrete, ended up leaving a painful memory not to be forgotten, about the importance of such things as preparation and cunning... Returning to the present, the shocking realization was brought forth not by the presence of the said scar, but by its inconsistency... Upon finding myself in this place, I remembered not finding any trace of my bloody demise, not a single cut in my clothes or trace of filth, yet this one specifically stubbornly persisted...
Returned from my nihilism with newfound purpose, I found myself intrigued further by this strange place... I had concluded, despite lack of better arguments, that there was a distinct possibility of me not actually being dead, yet saved from my gruesome fate by some form of supernatural phenomenon. It was baffling, yet strangely appealing, fueling my curiosity of exploring this place... Released from the numbing lethargy, my mind and senses sharpened as I began curiously looking around the place... In my proximity, on what appeared to be some sort elevated flower bed, stood a life-sized doll. By the looks of it, the doll was an astonishing piece of craftsmanship, being dressed in elegant, delicate embroidery, covered by what appeared to be an intricate, dark brown shawl. Closer inspection revealed a beautiful face with fair hair and skin, which maintained its eerie beauty despite the slight scaring of tear, small cracks, barely visible, marking the edges of the doll's forehead and hands... The strangely appealing visage awoke within me a feeling of familiarity, as I couldn't help but shake the thought that I have seen that face somewhere before, a long time ago...
Resisting an urge for closer inspection, I continued walking on the paved road, bordered by neatly groomed gravestones and mist, towards the the small house on the hill. A new feeling of familiarity washed over me as I was overwhelmed by the smell of old books, nostalgia greatly amplified by the heartwarming sight of old lacquered wood... The inside of the building was a single room, Its beautiful, intricate wooden architecture giving it an ever so slight air of sophistication, shaded by its practicality... Everywhere rested piles of nameless books, cornering different wooden tables which appeared to be fitted with a plethora of different tools, some complete while others missing components. A large chest appeared to be fitted to the side, while the very back of the room housed a table covered in red cloth, decorated with candles, as if an altar to some unnamed entity... What struck me as interesting was the decoration of the right wall, its wooden frame housing countless hinges, used to holster an impressive collection of weapons, each concealing mechanisms that would increase their deadliness. In a mere moment, my mind was snapped from the impressive display by a gentle cough, revealing its origin as a man in a wheelchair. Looking upon him, one could observe simple clothing, well kept despite obvious signs of wear and tear, framing the slim body of an elderly person. Its face, shaded by the simple hat, slightly oriented towards the front of his head, revealed a clean shave and long, unkempt hair, accentuated lines on his face betraying his advanced age. The shriveled hands, marked by countless years of use, rested upon a a cane, beautiful in its simplicity, its lower portion placed drawing attention towards the reason of the man's handicap... With another cough, the old man eyed me with a steel gaze, something about in causing my muscles to grow tense. With a raspy voice, the man spoke...
"Ah-hah, you must be the new hunter. Welcome to the Hunter's Dream. This will be your home, for now. I am..."
For a brief moment, the man appeared to be lost in thought, as if brushing the deep recesses of his memory to remember... the pause made him even older than his body showed, his eyes, somewhat devoid of emotion, betraying a long life of hardship and sadness, despite their piercing gaze... After a deep sigh, the man continued...
"Gehrman, friend to you hunters. You're sure to be in a fine haze about now, but don't think too hard about all of this. Just go out and kill a few beasts. It's for your own good. You know, it's just what hunters do! You'll get used to it..."
As if summoned by causality, the small, shriveled, pale skinned corpse-like creatures from before rose from the ground itself, each presenting me a tool... The assortment was quite varied, from a blunderbuss to a simple pistol, from a long halberd to some kind of strange saw... With slight hesitation, I took up the pistol, recalling with fond memories the tools of my trade as a knight... the handle was firm, the barrel decorated by intricate engravings... It was well balanced and revealed great care in both its design and construction... I would test it a second later, on what appeared to be a small stone vase... The gun was loaded with silver bullets with a pungent smell of blood and, as expected, didn't fail to deliver a perfectly accurate shot. Leaning towards the close combat weapons, I found myself unimpressed by the grotesque contraptions. Lacking in finesse, the devices were built to be vicious, betraying their true purpose... the killing of beasts just as crude and vicious as the blades that fell them. My sight was suddenly drawn towards the table, where a rather long walking cane stood. The weapon, built of pure silver, was hexagonal in shape with a sharp tip, edges sharpened to perfection to reveal purpose. Lacking the punch of the others, yet compensating in grace and finesse, the sword was simply beautiful. A nod from Gehrman let my hands touch the masterful piece of craftsmanship, feeling the familiar cold of the blade, as well as the firm grip of the handle... Upon touching the latter, however, my fingers felt a switch... Pressing firmly, the sword would deconstruct into a string of smaller fragments of equal sharpness, changing position into a vicious bladed whip. A few swings later, the weapon sealed the deal, as I was ready to go out into the night... Before departure, however, I paused briefly... With slight hesitation, I turned my gaze towards the old man, and with a cold tone, asked quietly...
"What exactly is this place...?"
"This was once a safe haven for hunters. A workshop where hunters used blood to enhance their weapons and flesh. We don't have as many tools as we once did, but... You're welcome to use whatever you find."
And then, with a whispered tone, he added...
"...Even the doll, should it please you..."
Having deemed the information thus far acceptable, I proceeded down the paved alleyway back to the bottom of the hill. The man's words still resonated inside my head, as I found myself stopping yet again in front of the beautifully designed construct laying motionless on the elevated flowerbed. Upon closer inspection I was surprised, if a bit startled at first, to discover slight movement. Upon touch, the construct turned towards me, gently brushing and arranging her clothing as she stood up, her perfectly motionless visage, so cold in its beauty, eyeing me with entrancing, golden-green eyes... With a short, yet elegant bow, she proceeded to speak in entrancing, soothing monotony...
"Hello, good hunter. I am a doll, here in this dream to look after you. Honorable hunter, pursue the echoes of blood, and I will channel them into your strength. You will hunt beasts... and I will be here for you, to embolden your sickly spirit."
After a brief pause, she continued with a question...
"Did you speak to Gehrman?"
After returning her bow as greeting, I would briefly nod my head, announcing a positive answer, yet my empty eyes betrayed curiosity. The strange doll appeared to have fully perceived my hidden feelings, as she continued, in the same eerie tone, cold yet warm at the same time...
"He was a hunter long, long ago, but now serves only to advise them. He is obscure, unseen in the dreaming world. Still, he stays here, in this dream... ...such is his purpose.."
I smiled to her kind reply, yet found myself surprised to feel a strange pull on the lower portion of my coat. Gazing down towards the ground, I saw yet again one of the silver creatures, eyeing me with its empty eyes, pulling gently on my coat as it pointed towards a nearby gravestone... I was baffled and slightly confused, feeling I did my best to brush off quickly, having already gotten used to the strangeness of this place. As I was making a note in my head not to let myself be surprised by such strange happenings and simply accept them as they are, the doll appeared to have noticed my surprise. With a short giggle, she spoke yet again...
"Ahh, the little ones, inhabitants of the dream... They find hunters like yourself, worship, and serve them. Speak words, they do not, but still, aren't they sweet?"
With a gentle smile, she invited me to follow the "little one". I smiled back, finding myself slightly more confused, despite no longer being surprised. I did indeed not feel hostile intent from the small creature, and as such I proceeded to indulge its wish. Brought to the gravestone, the small being gestured as if to suggest touch. I proceeded to hesitatingly comply, despite not understanding the meaning of the gesture... Upon touch, however, I found my mind flooded by emptiness, followed by the distant image of that same bed in the clinic. I felt a strange, compelling desire to visualize that one image closer and closer, its clarity growing to the point where it overwhelmed my every thought, my very notion of space and being... With a simple blink, the image of the headstone was replaced by the ceiling of the clinic, as I found myself lying motionlessly on the same cold bed...
This time, there was no nausea, no feeling of vertigo, and my hands felt next to me the bladed cane and the pistol from before... With steady steps, I proceeded downstairs, only to be greeted by the same beast, feasting itself from a lifeless corpse. As I grew tense, the beast sensed my presence, as it shifted its attention towards me rapidly, followed by a quick lunge. My tension was overwhelmed by the eerie calm of training. In a moment, I would sidestep and, with half a pirouette, decapitate the beast where it stood... As blood started flowing, squirting everywhere, The glow in my eyes became brighter, even if for a single moment, my pupils briefly contracting to a slit... In that one fraction of a second, I was horrified to discover the deranged smile branding my face, so brief one might question its existence... Sadly, I knew better...