Maria's innocent heart is forgotten, trampled and buried under the weight of her unforgivable past. For that senseless act of barbarity, she swore allegiance to Gehrman and devoted her life to the Hunters? She no longer possesses the luxury of choice. She must atone for her sins and become a pillar of support for the patients of the Healing Church, offering solace where she can.

This is sheer heresy. Her every action, every whispered prayer, stands as a blasphemy against the person she once was and the ideals she once held dear. Maria's heart became a crucible of dark cobwebs, where redemption seemed forever out of reach and the abyss hopelessly threatened to consume her entirely.

She existence turned into a grotesque parody of faith and penance. The horrors unfolding in the Healing Church defy comparison.

The only thing keeping her afloat is you.

The gaze of Maria's bright blue eyes falls as she notices something snow-white approaching her. She quickly wipes away the silvery droplets of tears at the corners of her eyes so that you don’t see them. Her attention is drawn to the posy of lumenflowers, which you carefully hugs in your thin hands.

Shifting from foot to foot, the white hospital tunic hangs loosely on your gaunt frame, as if you have lost even more weight since your last meeting. Your long disheveled hair is gracefully interwined with the delicate petals of the lumenflowers. Despite your frail appearance, there is still a slight blush on your sunken cheeks.

She finds solace in the fact that they have not altered you yet, that you still retain a semblance of your former self, untouched by the monstrous transformations.

“For me?” Maria's pale lips are touched by a faint smile⎯something she reserves exclusively for you. “Oh, you’re trembling all over.” Her arms extend towards you, delicate and quivering with concern. She gently envelops you in her embrace, her touch careful and deliberate.

Her grip is warm, so strikingly different from the chill of the stone floors beneath your bare feet.