Another Dreary Hunt: Forbidden Studies

12 O'Clock: The Witching Hour

The doors creaked open as the two men pushed, the strain visible on their faces as the dust snowed over their bloody robes. Laurence sat idly by, looking out to the sea. His eyes were empty as he watched the waves dance in before retreating - Almost as if they were scared of him. "Sir."
"Onwards." He ordered, walking into the shadowed veil with two hunters who each lit torches, the orange light creeping over the rotted wooden walls. They were dark, patches of mold infecting almost every inch of the place Every step sang as the wood bent and creaked, if anything lurked here it would have surely heard us. Laurence stormed ahead quickly, forcing open the doors whose locks were stiff with rust. The hunters seemed unnerved, following behind though their eyes scanned the corners of the rooms. Flashes of claws and fangs digging into their flesh shrouded their minds as they trudged through the frequent puddles of murky water, the splash startling the poor sods as they slashed at nothing. Laurence was unphased, navigating the twisting corridors before he reached the central staircase. He clearly knew the place, I saw him often stop and look around the frankly beautiful carvings on the walls. Time had not stripped them of their stunning design and Laurence seemed to have realised too, tracing his finger over the face of a woman before shooting off down the halls once more.

Rom jostled in my arms, her breathing had become heavier since we entered the building and a worry had crossed her unconscious face. Amelia was watching her curiously, head tilted like a new-born puppy as she brushed the hair from Rom's brow. "A dream." She suddenly announced. "Huh?" I turned to her, her blue eyes almost glowing in the torchlight, like the shine of the golden amulet in her hand. "The girl, she's dreaming. Hopefully it is a pleasant one, an insightful one."
"What are you talking about?" I pulled her away from the creepy priestess, who proceeded to glide closer. "The Healing Church, it was sprung from a dream. As was the Hunt, the hunters, that dreaded workshop..." She paused for a second, her dark eyes pouring over my face. She saw the concern, the curiosity, thus elected not to continue. "Forgive me. It's been so long since I was last here, even longer for Laurence."

She continued down the hall, I followed cautiously. "So what was this place?"
"You mean before the Church? Just a clock tower, one of the highest points in all of Yharnam. Then once Laurence came it all shifted." It was hard to read her, though I sensed some regret in her tone. "Horrible things occurred here, horrible but necessary." Rom stirred as the priestess spoke, her lips moving in indistinguishable shapes. "What things?"
"Just things."
"I have a right to know why I'm even in this building, what was it used for?"
"Who gave you that right? We certainly didn't." She turned quickly and darted towards me, I jolted as her small form was suddenly nose-to-nose with me. Her eyes were strange, duller than they used to be with misshapen pupils. It looked almost as if they were breaking apart. "The Church takes what's there's, and gives it to themselves. We aren't some charity handing out scraps of information to paupers on the streets. Just like morsels of delicious food, insight is earned. You'd be wise to not squander your chances immediately." She had me right where she wanted me, nothing I said made me look good. Continuing to push made me seem desperate and weak, plus it was likely anyone else in the building thought just like her. The Church was nothing if not unified in their thinking. All I could do was was swallow the modicum of pride I still had and walk past her. As I did I saw she looked much calmer, much sadder, as if the outburst brought back memories she would have rather stayed dormant.

Walking from floor to floor was no easy task. Old lifts had snapped ropes, meaning we had to use the fragile stairs which moaned under our weight. A total collapse did not escape our minds yet we pushed onwards regardless, Laurence's determination inspiring some of the more tired members of our group. Rom was starting to feel heavy in my arms, they were on fire from carrying her all this way yet I could not put her down. I was too scared to. If she was out of my hands she was out of my control, and if something happened to her in her sleep I would not be able to help. Every mutter she made, every movement I watched. She wanted to tell me something, I knew she did, she just could not get the words out.

As we began to near the top, Rom's motions became less frequent and her sleep more peaceful. I was glad to see her relaxed, I began to worry she was having nightmares. Not unlike the one we were in, as I passed skeletons in prayer. The bones were essentially dust as I stepped over them, yet their skulls were the oddest part about them. Bloated, malformed, terrifying. I did my best to avoid them as I followed the others up a final flight of stairs to a door surrounded by misty glass. Moonlight shone through and lit up the top floor which was filled with sunflowers, all facing towards the door. Their odd blue tint fascinated me as two men began to open the stiff wooden doors which led to a large open space.

Before us was the clock face, a glorious bronze masterpiece looking out over Yharnam, ancient runes scrawled around the circumference as a symbol of knowledge. Above us was a great iron bell, unremarkable yet practical - something we would all find out as we heard the ticking of the large hammer readying itself for work.

The toll of the bell was deep, resonating in our hearts as rather than hearing the deafening loud ringing...We felt it. Twelve O'clock, some call it the witching hour for the strange happenings which occur around it. That morning I would find out why.

Laurence took a step towards the clock, towards a lonely figure sitting on a single chair in front of it. A small table was at their side, bearing a single mouldy goblet surrounded by insects who scurried as the vicar's heavy boots approached. In the chair, was a corpse. A woman, blonde and graceful - even in death. I placed Rom down next to Amelia as I took as step forward, wanting a better view of Laurence as he reached his hand out towards her. He was expectant, almost as if he was waiting for her to reach out to him and give him his answers. "Maria, how long has it been? I need you." He whispered, the only real emotion I had heard from him in a while. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and shook her lightly. "We need you." He shook again. "He needs you!" He shook more violently, the body was unresponsive, simply following his frantic movements before a softer voice cut the tension. A familiar voice. "A corpse..." Rom began. "Should be kept well enough alone."