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Damn these Fascists to the depths of my abyss. Darkness shall snuff out the storm; bone and flesh recall all that was taken. Death's beauty is eternal.

DrBleep

Reading time: 1 hour, 7 minutes
Word count: 18,000
SUGGESTED LISTENING:

Overall Theme:

• Into Darkness by Thomas Bergerson
• Still Here - Forts, Tiffany Aris, and 2WEI

Character Themes:

• Aliyah Sarkis:
• Emily Kurr: Still Here - Forts, Tiffany Aris, and 2Wei
• Abigail: Arcade Master - Two Steps From Hell
• Aleah: Blinding Lights - The Weekend
• Sherry Andrews: Love is a Battlefield - Pat Benetar

You can find more of Bleep's works Here.

Item #: SCP-8710

Object Class: Keter (Uncontained)

SCP-8710

Special Containment Procedures: All personnel working within SCP-8710 are regularly screened for cognitohazardous and memetic indoctrination. Disinformation campaigns should be stripped of all signs of official documentation and issued via word of mouth by implanted Foundation agents. Local TV, radio and newspaper organizations have been purchased by Foundation Shell corporations to screen for and excise reports of anomalous events. Specially created anti-memetic filters are applied by geo-location tags to users within SCP-8710 attempting to make posts with keywords or photos indicative of anomalous events. Amnestics are ineffective and should not be used.

SCP-8710 skyline

Description: SCP-8710 is the city of Valencia, capital of the province of València and the third largest city in the country of Spain. SCP-8710 is subject to an ontological disruption of the noosphere. It is suspected that the city itself, due to its rich cultural and historic traditions, is directly responsible for this effect. Due to the size of the city and its population, containment has proved exceedingly difficult.

SCP-8710's primary anomalous effects manifest in a strong adherence and belief in the anomalous among its population, a complete resistance to all amnestics, and dramatically increased occurrences of ritualistic and anomalous practices; especially involving necromancy and reverence for the dead. One consequence of this effect is that almost all residents of SCP-8710 are aware, to different degrees, of the Foundation's existence and its goals. Its secondary anomalous effects consist of sharp resistance to cultural change through force or outside decree, thus compelling an anti-authoritarian effect among the populace.

Extent of SCP-8710's effects marked in Red.

Quantitating the timeframe in which SCP-8710 began has proven difficult, due to the complicated nature of the anomaly, and the incomplete records of the city's history during the post-Roman period. The first clear records of SCP-8710 begin during the fitna of Al-Andalus, where scholars of Taifa of Valencia discuss the particular difficulties of ruling Valencia, and the peculiarities of non-Christian traditions.

Discovery: SCP-8710 was first discovered in 1975 following the death of Francisco Franco.
The Special Security Commission was in the process of being dismantled and replaced by the newly established Spanish Branch of the Foundation when a mass necromantic event occurred in downtown Valencia. MTF-Psi-8 was deployed and had significant difficulty in dealing with the necromantic constructs due to SCP-8710's effects.

Automobile belonging to a high ranking fascist official after being launched by a Necromantic Construct within SCP-8710.

Regional TV stations captured footage live and it was distributed on local networks before the Foundation could intercept them. Following the incident, Foundation officials attempted to administer amnestics to large numbers of Valencian residents who had witnessed these events. The amnestics were completely ineffective, and by extension, awareness of the Foundation's existence spread among Valencian society.

Of note, The Special Security Commission's records indicate that SCP-8710's effect was greatly reduced from 1939-1975. This is the second such recorded dip in activity in the historical record, the other being a nearly two-century long weakening of the effect from 1609-1800. The source of the first chronological drop is believed to be related to the expulsion of the Moriscos and harsh crackdowns by the Catholic Inquisition. The cause of the second drop is unknown as Special Security Commission records with regards to Valencia are incomplete.

Historical Records HR-8710

The following are excerpts from notable figures in Spanish history in regards to SCP-8710; gathered by Dr. Aliyah Sarkis, PhD in Near East Religious and Divine Studies, Archaeologist and Head of Research of SCP-8710.

• Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar

Author: Rodrigo Díaz de Viva

Foreword: The following excerpts come from transcriptions, recorded second hand by Valencian Monks, of stories told by Rodrigo Díaz de Viva, hero of Al-Andalus, legend of Muslim and Christian Spain. Entries have been translated from Old Spanish with care taken to preserve clarity and meaning.

Valencia, a beautiful city, a gem upon the shores of the Mediterranean. It is a strange place truly, though I have been here but a few weeks, its charm sinks into my bones. The wonder of Al-Andalus shines underneath our God’s light, and nowhere is it more apparent than here in Valencia. But that light is strange, and magical.

Rodrigo Diaz De Vivar during the conquest of SCP-8710.

The people here attend prayer, and Mass but they are unlike any Mass that I have attended before. They speak much of the dead, and reverence for how the deeds of the living shape the afterlife in the context of death. It's a strange thing, to sit in a holy Church or a Mosque and hear it. Hear our scripture recontextualized to focus not on our Lord and Savior's will but the will of death and its nuances. Stranger yet is their proclivity to bury the dead beneath their homes. Even in larger buildings and abodes where it is impractical they will do this, refusing to use graveyards.

The Churches and Mosques here are dark, all such things are due to size, but there is no Darkness like the thick mist that sits within those hallowed halls of Valencia. It is as though the source of the city's mystique drips from within their confines. There is a throbbing beat here, a rhythm that the whole city dances to and I could swear in the mornings they ooze thick blue-green fog into the streets.

The people of Valencia are deeply friendly, though immensely suspicious of priests and imams from beyond Valencia's walls. They greeted me as a hero, as a source of personal salvation, and wished blessings upon me. Many a time I have asked after the strangeness in their religious customs, about the fascination with death. They always laugh and tell me much the same as I hear in the Mosques and Churchs. Death is a part of the cycle of living, and that actions in life determine the fate of death. One young maiden spoke to me of a Mother, a Matriarch of Christ's eternal spirit. At first, I thought she was referring to the Virgin Mary, or perhaps Mary Magdalene, but now I am unsure.

• Ferdinand II of Aragon

Author: Ferdinand II of Aragon

Foreword: The following excerpts come from the personal Diary of Ferdinand II of Aragon in regards to the Spanish Inquisition.

Valencia continues to be a thorn in the side of the unity of the holy order of Spain and God's light. I have been unable to ascertain again and again whether the city is in open rebellion. Its people pay taxes, its governors abide by some of the rules of law and land, but the inquisition and laws of God are openly undermined and defied.

The Spanish Inquisition attempting to enter a Cathedral within SCP-8710.

Muslims and Jews alike walk the streets with their fellow Christians. With the Ottomans an ever-present threat, this defiance could not be allowed to stand. But the Church Officials within the city do not recognize me except in the vaguest of capacities. 'The Kingdom of Valencia stands free'. I have attempted to activate the local Hermandad, and they do not respond. The Church officials do not respond. Valencia is a city within my power, within my kingdom and yet it moves through the tide of God's will on its own path.

Then there are the rumors that reach me, of morbid fascinations with death, of Iconography adorning the Cathedrals and Synagogues. Drawings of skulls, of towering rocks and canyons and fields of flowers. This is some pagan artifice, sorcery whose source we must find and destroy.

Yet the three attempts that have been made have failed. Three times I have sent companies of two hundred men, only for them to vanish. We thought them all perished until several were identified by loyalists sent to investigate, living among the common folk of the city, arms abandoned. The rest? Strung up like heretics on pillars of bone in common squares. Perhaps it is true what those inquisitors, blessed with God's Light, say on their return. There is a greater force in the Kingdom of Valencia, rumors and whispers only caught in the shadows from the locals. As long as its control remains, Valencia is perhaps best left alone.

• Juan de Ribera

Author: Juan de Ribera

Foreword: The following entry comes from the personal notes of Juan de Ribera, two months before his death from injuries inflicted by an ornate blade carved from human bone. Though the official conclusion was suicide, descriptions of the crime scene indicate otherwise.

We have succeeded in breaking the Moriscos’s hold on Valencia. Even now I can feel the lessening of this heathenistic pagan magic. My only regret is that the King deigned enslavement of these wicked men and women to be a step too far. Nothing is too far for these blasphemers, worshippers of perverted death and forbidden iconography. For too long they have driven this perverse atmosphere within the gem of our holy city. No longer.

Juan de Ribera orchestrating and carrying out the expulsion of the Moriscos.

In time our aggrieved citizens will see, once this yoke of witchcraft is thrown off, just how glorious God truly is. Let us be rid of these profane practices, of this obsession with death. None but God determines the fate of the soul in life, a good Christian life is the only way to avoid the fires of hell.

Expulsion of the Moriscos from SCP-8710 by Pere Oromig.

I will admit I was unsettled; a woman came to visit me before we committed to the expulsion. Of her I knew nothing, tall and dark of skin, I thought her at first a slave. Then I knew she was one of them, a Morisco. Her words were soft but harsh. 'If this deed you commit to, no act of heaven will deliver you and yours from a hell of your own making.' Perhaps she was a dream, for I called the guards, and they came running, and when I turned back she was gone. I could not even tell you the details of her appearance as they slipped from my mind. I believe now it was the devil in womanly disguise.

While the most likely mundane explanation for the figure described by Ribera is either a hallucination or embellished tale of personal heroism, facing down the devil, the nature of his death soon after casts doubt on this. If this is a legitimate account of the manifestation of an unknown entity then it may be related to ‘The Great Lady’ of Valencia, the city’s folkloric guardian or personification attested to by the common people. I'll look for any similar reports. -Dr. Sarkis.

• Joseph Bonaparte

Author: Joseph Bonaparte

Foreword: Joseph Bonaparte was appointed the King of Spain by Napoleon Bonaparte in January of 1812. He made his capital in the City of Valencia.

This place, this city is a putrid pit of defiance and undercurrent. Though I rule Spain, though my authority reaches throughout the country, none within the confines of this city listen to my decrees. There is a strange and sickly air here. I strode into a church for mass and found myself bombarded with motives and depictions of death, of skeletal artificery and blasphemy one would expect from pagans and the occult.

At night there is the thickest of fogs, blue-green in pallor. Strange things move around in the dark and those locals who are sympathetic advise that I should not move through it, for the Mother might come for me. The city is not hostile, but it is neither friendly nor accommodating. I fear we have stumbled into a fairy tale not our own.

SCP-8710 during the Napoleonic Wars.

Warnings have been made against my throne, soldiers eviscerated in front of the castle gates and left openly and provocatively to the sky. One evening I stepped from my bedchambers onto the balcony to see the city at night. I could swear there was something in the fog, something tall and dark haired with eyes that moved, yes moved, like a burning flame. Bright and blue. I blinked and it was gone, and so too my memory tried to slide away.

Partisan activity continues sharply in the city, no matter how much we commit, and our losses to desertion are as much as those to partisan activity. I've come to believe occupation of Valencia as our capital was a mistake.

Another mention of a manifestation witnessed by a foreign ruler, this time more directly connected with this "Mother" figure, who I believe to be one and the same with the Great Lady. My initial suspicion is an ontological intrusion, born either of sympathetic projection on the part of the Valencian people's fervent belief in this figure, an unknown relic, or combination of the two with the latter amplifying the former. If the manifestation has a localized source, the present inaccessibility of potential archaeological sites within the city could make identification and extraction difficult.-Dr. Sarkis

The Following concerns the events of the Levante Offensive and the failure of Spanish Nationalist Forces in the battle of the XYZ Line.

Battle of the XYZ Line After Action Report

Anomalous Event #: 15

Date of Occurence: 18th July - 23rd July 1938

Description: On 18th July 1938 Nationalist forces began our assault on the XYZ line, with the intent to break through and advance on the Republican Stronghold of Valencia. The morning of the assault a thick and unnatural fog moved into the trenches of the XYZ line and the town of Viver, obscuring Republican forces.

Nationalist forces began their assault shortly after 08:00 hours and ran into immediate and stiff resistance. Artillery barrages were fierce, and machine gun fire inflicted a large number of casualties. The preternatural fog rolled out across no-man's land prior to the second wave of assault.

When the second wave began, individual units moved into the fog and were quickly devastated by a number of raised skeletal constructs, hidden earthen traps and spikes, and were hemmed into fire corridors for artillery and machine gun fire. The suspected source were the historically well-known and prevalent necromantic groups within Valencia, but the scale of the event was incongruent with any prior documentation, and unusual movements of earth and lighting were inconsistent with known necromantic capacities of para-natural groups residing in Valencia.

Photo of Republican anti-aircraft position along the XYZ line outside of SCP-8710.

According to cooperative sources, groups within Valencia were preparing the city's internal defenses at the time, and did not move to assist larger republican efforts. Several survivors from the assault claimed to have seen a 'giant' that was described as a woman, appearing, and disappearing in the fog over the course of the 6-day assault.

Remnants of fortifications just outside SCP-8710.

Numerous photos were taken during the battle, and no other documentation exists matching this description. Thus, this inquiry concludes that it was likely that the city itself acted to aid republican forces. This commission will need to take this into consideration for future operations seeking to secure Valencia, and actions that may neutralize an anomaly that has existed for nearly a millennia, post-occupation.

End Record

And here they are again in a modern account. I wish the population of the city didn't utterly loathe us, including the academics. I've gotten glimpses, whiffs of it from overheard conversations, of a shepherd or maternal-like figure that guides or coaxes the city. What is it? Is it sapient? Is it an object? An afterimage of some long past religious group? And what did the commission do to neutralize it? Clearly it wasn’t permanent. -Dr. Sarkis

The following document is an excerpt from a lecture series by Dr. Aliyah Sarkis on SCP-8710.

• Lecture on SCP-8710

SCP-8710’s existence doesn’t appear to be a unique phenomenon. Instead, the city of Valenica presents as the most prominent example of a wider class of localized ontological and cultural disruptions found elsewhere in Ibiza, Santorini, and as far North as the Orkney Islands. In all these places we see a heightened rate of anomalous events, and a corresponding belief in the supernatural among the local populations. Of these, however, Valencia is the most important civic center, has by far the highest population, has the most widespread and disruptive anomalous events, and her population is hostile to our organization.

Valencia's culture is most often described as strongly deriving from Christian influenced Celtic traditions. Christianization of Roman Iberia initially suppressed Celtic and Iberian traditions; before more formally adopting them for their own purposes in the late 6th century CE. These circumstances lasted only for a century as the Umayyad Caliphate’s conquest of Iberia sparked immediate repression of pagan customs, including the celebration of Samhain, and enslavement of pagans at large. More tolerance was shown to Christian and Jewish residents. The prevailing attitude towards non-muslim religious practices softened following the conquest, and some pagan traditions returned by the early 8th century as educated, upper-class members of Islamic Al-Andalusian society exhibited a marked interest in learning about and exploring historical and folkloric traditions.


Día de Todos los Santos guidance of the dead in a rare Valencian graveyard.

This context is important as certain cultural aspects typically attributed to the Spanish Celtic and Iberian traditions; including Samhain, are more pronounced in Valencia than in other regions. When these cultural aspects arose is poorly documented, but by the 10th century CE they were widely prevalent in Valencia and surrounding provinces, and would only become more so in the following centuries. Many aspects of Valencian culture commonly attributed to Iberian and Celtic traditions only find tenuous parallels there, in a way that suggests that, much like the Christianization of pagan holidays, these traditions were reshaped to fit another, external system of beliefs. Iberian eschatology seems to have fit quite neatly into this external influence, and may suggest why Valencia, of all places, became the center of this phenomenon. Closer examination reveals notable differences that suggest there was an initial period of ‘mixing’, before the Celtic and Iberian aspects were either integrated into this newly forming culture or were warped beyond recognition. This is complicated by the fact that Spain, as a whole, experienced a post-inquisition uptick in celebration of both Valencian aligned cultural festivals and classic pagan traditions. Thus, tracing the origins and points of evolution is difficult. Unfortunately, this is further distorted by our limited ability to access local records and the Church’s proclivity, during the inquisition, to suppress and remove any references to pagan traditions beyond accusations of witchcraft. This is all to say, tracking the evolution of SCP-8710’s anomalous cultural effects is exceedingly difficult, bordering on impossible.

Though we cannot trace the exact cultural lineage and origin points, we can see how SCP-8710 continues to expand its influence and evolve through the rise of modern celebrations. The most prominent of these are the Spain centered 'Día de las Brujas' and the originally more Christian versions of ‘Día de Todos los Santos’ and ‘Día de los Difuntos’, where both the perceived 'modern' and 'traditional' aspects can be traced to Valencia. The wider effect is also believed to have reached the New World, where SCP-8710's effects may have mixed with meso-American traditions to produce Día de los Muertos; a holiday that bears many analogous beliefs and practices to those observed in Valencia, while being dominated by meso-American culture and folklore.

Día de las Brujas celebration just outside of SCP-8710.

Native Valencians display a deep cultural fascination with death and the dead. The subject permeates every aspect of daily life, in iconography, religion, and cultural practice. Nowhere else is this more clearly illustrated than in their treatment and handling of the dead, in a manner unlike any of their cultural neighbors. Human remains are kept within the home, interred beneath the floorboards, even in multi-story, multi-family homes. Only families living in homes where there is no more room to inter corpses, resort to alternative burial practices, to graveyards, catacombs, and mausoleums. Regardless of location, the construction of these graves invariably includes channels by which offerings of water, alcohol, and liquid sustenance may be made to the dead. Many families include decorative altars around these channels, to facilitate celebration of the act of sustenance. This widespread culture of venerations and offerings to the dead is persistent across generations.

Facepaint typical of celebrations in SCP-8710.

Offerings of food and drink to the departed are one of the oldest recorded and most widespread, religious traditions concerning the dead. Yet they are absent or forbidden from most Christian and Islamic traditions. Their inclusion in the religious practices of Valencians is one of many hints that Valencian religious beliefs are a product of syncretism between elements of Abrahamic faiths, and an unknown religious tradition, believed to be a product of SCP-8710’s effects. Valencian religion includes neither Heaven nor Hell, and while most Valencians have a concept of sin, their understanding of the term is entirely bound up in their understanding of the afterlife and their culture of offerings. To sin is to treat others poorly; to treat them in such a way that they and their descendants will make no offerings to you after you die. In their afterlife, the soul must be nourished just as living people are. If no offerings are made, your soul will starve, drinking nought but dust and ash. In practice, though, many Valencians make goodwill offerings to nameless and forgotten graves. Any scholars of ancient near-eastern, especially Mesopotamian, religion in the audience should have some alarm bells going off by this part of the lecture.

A modern residential alter to the dead within SCP-8710.

The Valencian affinity for death goes beyond the cultural. Native Valencians found engaging in thaumaturgical practice invariably are drawn towards practices concerning the dead, primarily necromancy, for which they display a heightened capacity over non-Valencians. This capacity, along with psychological fixation on death and resistance to amnestic treatment, persists in Valencians who have been removed from the boundaries of SCP-8710. Necromancy doesn’t extend to reanimation, a prospect the native Valencians experience strong revulsion to. Spontaneous reanimation, however, is shockingly common. Outside of Valencia, spontaneous reanimation of the dead occurs in isolated incidents, and is vanishingly rare in absolute terms. In Valencia? 15 spontaneous reanimations per 1000 deaths. The dead do walk the streets of Valencia. Current theories chalk this up to a disruption of the Noosphere, resulting in a thinning in the conceptual barriers between life and death.

Veneration of death and the dead seeps beyond the daily and religious affairs of native Valencians into the realm of creative passion. Murals, paintings, sculptures and carvings originating from within SCP-8710 reflect pronounced differences across all periods, contrasting substantially against the works produced in the rest of Catholic Europe. Frequent use of dark and macabre scenes, morose depictions of death, and the mixture of bleak and desolate imagery are frequently paired and mixed with palettes and compositions we would typically associate with bucolic art as well as vivid depictions of daily life. Cities engraved into the sides of canyons, fields of flowers, and sharp craggy ravines are frequent motifs in a disproportionately large number of Valencian murals and paintings considering the local terrain. These strange mixtures and choice of landscapes lend a unique character to Valencian artwork that invokes both the darkness of plague-stricken Europe and the hope and expression seen in the Renaissance. Valencian artistry is not a static tradition; the character and compositions of works change and transition between major styles and periods, in parallel with the rest of Europe. To the Valencian artist, death is a hopeful friend, a source of certainty in that everyone will eventually face it. Rather than fear death, and what comes next, they cherish its inevitability.

Nowhere is this certainty in inevitability more apparent than in Valencian religious iconography, where more traditional Christian imagery has been coopted or relegated to the background. Christ, though frequently present, has been almost replaced in prominence by a mysterious, motherly figure which the Valencians refer to as "The Mother of the Dead". Those of you familiar with 8710 are probably already familiar with the peculiarities of this figure, and her presence in many Valencian art pieces, not just those of a religious nature. When queries arise concerning ‘The Mother’, native Valencians simply refer to her as the Virgin Mary, at least to non-natives. Deeper inquiries are often met with silence, dismissal, or suggestions to speak to the Clergy and sometimes even attending mass or services. In my experience, agents that have previously pressed the issue further have been met with suspicion and occasionally hostility. It’s clear this figure’s prominence goes far beyond the normally heightened status of Mary in Catholic belief. Artwork and iconography frequently depicts this figure as wielding or being associated with the seven bells of creation, which themselves are associated with the seven days it took god to create the Earth. This peculiar conflation of ‘the Mother’ with Mary, the rampant association with the act of creation in Genesis, and the secretive and defensive nature of native Valencians about the topic leads me to believe there is far more depth and meaning to these depictions and the concept of the entity than 8710 residents want us to see or believe.

Many of you gathered here will have already been exposed to examples of artwork depicting the Mother of the Dead, the Great Lady of Valencia. Show of hands, who has? Now, keep your hand up if your baseline CRV score is below 20. Everyone with their hands still up is required to report for memetic deprogramming. Depictions of the Mother are cognitohazardous, deific indoctrination. Enjoy the spinning lights.

Interview Video and Audio Log IVA-8710-01

Interview Log IR-8710-15

Date: ██/██/████

Interviewer: Dr. Aliyah Sarkis

Foreword: Due to the difficulty foreign elements have in securing any sort of extended contact with academics working and residing within Valencia, Dr. Aliyah Sarkis took a shot-gun approach in reaching out to as many academics as possible. In spite of this effort, only one response was received, from a Dr. Emily Kurr, an immigrant from Poland born to parents who were themselves immigrants from Iraq. Dr. Sarkis arranged a meeting time with Dr. Kurr at the latter's office in the University of Valencia for recording purposes.

<Begin Log>

Dr. Emily Kurr finishes rearranging books on the shelves as Dr. Sarkis finishes setting up and turning on recording devices. Dr. Kurr is ~2 meters tall. The right arm is replaced at the shoulder with a high-end prosthetic. She is of middle eastern descent and has brown eyes.

Dr. Kurr sits in the chair when she has finished rearranging her books.

Dr. Sarkis sits in the opposite chair, watching Dr. Kurr work. Dr. Sarkis's watches her. Her fists are clenched against the chair, muscles in her arms appearing strained.

She waits for Dr. Kurr to finish her work. Dr. Kurr looks at Aliyah as she takes her seat. They sit there for another minute. Dr. Kurr raises an eyebrow when Dr. Sarkis does not begin the interview.

Dr. Sarkis closes her mouth. She sits up and her expression shifts to polite professionalism. She extends a hand to the woman.

Dr. Sarkis: "Dr. Emily Kurr? Dr. Aliyah Sarkis."

Dr. Sarkis:"It's good to finally meet you."

Dr. Kurr looks at the hand for several seconds before taking it with the prosthetic. Dr. Sarkis' hand tenses but doesn't let go after contact.

Dr. Kurr:"A pleasure Dr. Sarkis. Your email was a surprise. Many Akkadian experts grace my door, but it is unusual for them to wish to talk about Valencia specifically."

Dr. Sarkis:"My specialization is actually in Ancient Sumer."

Dr. Sarkis:"Though I'm well familiar with the Akkadians as well. As for, uh, Valencia, I suppose I was wanting a change of pace from my normal courses of investigation, and this project fell into my lap."

Dr. Kurr:"Ah well, Akkad and Sumer are fascinating. Rich periods of culture and human history."

Dr. Kurr leans back in her chair.

Dr. Kurr: "But they are done. Unwinding their stories is important of course, but the cultures, the religions are dead, no? Valencia is not. It is a living, breathing thing that marches forward, and is so very rich in belief and tradition."

Dr. Kurr smiles.

Dr. Kurr:"Did it fall into your lap, or did you seek it out?"

Dr. Sarkis:"I'd say a little bit of both."

Dr. Sarkis smiles.

Dr. Sarkis: "And yeah, it's not common I get the opportunity to talk to living people about their history and folklore."

Dr. Sarkis: "Though… Most Valencian historians and folklorists I've tried to reach out to have been about as quiet as the dead, anyway."

Dr. Sarkis smiles, her eyes are half lidded, and a small amount of teeth show.

Dr. Kurr's smile returns to a flat line.

Dr. Kurr: "Outsiders coming into the city have garnered a reputation, and I'm not surprised most do not wish to let that darken their door."

Dr. Sarkis: "What's the reputation?"

Dr. Kurr:"Men and women in suits attempting to obscure the truth, play God with the mind, erase a culture."

Dr. Sarkis' features slacken for a moment as she looks down, a complicated expression rising on her face. After several seconds, she looks up.

Dr. Sarkis:"I just want to better understand and document the people here and the culture. If the locals and academics believe me doing so would be a threat to said culture, that's their judgment to make."

Dr. Kurr tilts her head, watching Aliyah.

Dr. Kurr:"And what is it you wish to learn?"

Dr. Sarkis:"I want to know more about the Great Lady of Valencia. And the Mother of the Dead."

Dr. Kurr:"Ah, the Great Lady. Yes, yes, such an interesting phenomenon."

Dr. Kurr taps her fingers together.

Dr. Sarkis:"She is. Are the two figures one and the same? I haven't been able to tell for sure from what I've read, and what I've heard from people here in the city."

Dr. Kurr:"Are they the same… What an interesting question."

She taps a finger on the desk.

Dr. Kurr:"I suppose it would depend on the source you are looking at, no? You have done no small amount of preparatory reading, I am certain?"

Dr. Sarkis:"I've read quite a bit, but most of what I've been able to get my hands on is from outsiders to the city, and secondary sources. Nobody intimately familiar with the local culture. Both names seem to refer to the same figure, and some connect one or the other with the Virgin Mary, but I've not found anything explicitly saying they're the same."

Dr. Kurr:"Mmm, I think the Virgin Mary is perhaps a red herring. I see why theologists and anthropologists would make that leap based on the outside perception of the imagery."

Again Dr. Kurr taps her finger on the desk. A low auditory hum is briefly heard, and she tilts her head, an expression of confusion momentarily appearing on her face. Dr. Sarkis doesn't appear to notice. The professor begins speaking again with a different tone.

Dr. Kurr:"The practices are not initially Judeo-Christian in derivation, except for perhaps the structures."

Dr. Sarkis leans forward.

Dr. Kurr:"I'm sure you realized that though."

Dr. Sarkis:"I had my suspicions, but no evidence to go on. I couldn't find any parallels between the figure and any pre-Christian Iberian tradition or syncretism with any culture Valencians would have had direct contact with."

Dr. Kurr:"Indeed and the tradition seems to have spread beyond simply Valencia, changing as it so often does."

The camera footage crackles for several seconds with static before returning to normal. Dr. Kurr is audibly excited as she speaks, but only for several seconds before returning to her prior demeanor.

Dr. Kurr:"The parallels to Spanish culture at large, and the bleed into the new world?"

Dr. Sarkis:"Indeed, but it's never become so ubiquitous and enduring anywhere else but here."

Dr. Kurr:"Exactly, it remains primarily local."

Dr. Kurr:"Now I have spent quite a bit of time studying divinities associated with death. There are some that might fit the conceptualization of a Great Lady, and a mother both. Hel and Scathatch being the closest regionally."

Dr. Kurr: "Perhaps Dea Tacita, the silent goddess too."

Dr. Sarkis:"I'm not as familiar with Hel and Scathatch as I probably should be, but I did look into Dea Tacita, which seems… possible. There are similarities, particularly traditions surrounding offerings of food and drink to the dead, but those are common traditional elements across many cultures, and there's none of the key elements of Tacita's myth I've found connected to the Mother."

Dr. Sarkis pauses and then considers.

Dr. Sarkis: "The symbols associated with the Great Lady also don't align with Tacita either. Seven seems to be an incredibly important numerology, as well as bells and owls. There are fewer accessible sources to outsiders regarding those symbols and how they're associated with the Mother."

Dr. Kurr:"Mmmm. All are important associations with the figure and the associated mythology. I'm surprised that knowledge hasn't spread beyond the city, but then again, the citizenry has become… secretive with how outsiders tend to behave."

Dr. Sarkis:"Could you tell me a bit about those symbols, and the mythology behind them?"

Dr. Kurr:"Of course. Where would you like me to start?"

Dr. Sarkis:"How about the number seven, and the bells? They seem intertwined."

Dr. Kurr reaches back and pulls a book off the shelf. Its title reads 'The Mother of the Dead and the Great Lady of Valencia: Their Associated Myths and Folklore.' She opens the tome and flips several pages.

Dr. Kurr: "I’ll read you the first myth that involves her in local Christian scripture. You're familiar with Genesis from the Abrahamic texts?"

Dr. Sarkis hesitates.

Dr. Sarkis:"Hard not to be."

Dr. Kurr watches her for a moment, eyebrow rising slowly.

Dr. Kurr:"Good then I can skip the parts you know. In the beginning when El made the world, he was not alone. He conspired with a Goddess of reverent status, but she had no name that survives, as the sons of Abraham greatly feared her, and burnt all trace from the literature."

The Bell of Communication.

"On the first day she who would become the Mother of the Dead, created the first bell, the Bell of Communication, encompassing the language of reality through which she spoke with El. Beads decorated its handle and gave it power. She rang the bell and it granted meaning to reality."

Dr. Kurr:"On the second day, the Mother created the Bell of Authority, it's handle in the shape of a crown. She rang it and granted the sky above authority over that below."

The Bell of Authority.

"On the third day the Mother created the Bell of Creativity, she rang it granting the sea and land and plants many shapes. Rather than embed it with any special materials, she forged bracelets, and El grew jealous of her splendor, until he realized she could serve another purpose."

The Bell of Creativity.

Dr. Kurr pauses momentarily to flip a page as Dr. Sarkis leans forward, listening intently while looking at the tome in-between them.

Dr. Kurr: "On the fourth day, the Mother forged the Bell of Manifestation, always to be held and rung with a cloth in hand. She rang it and granted the celestial bodies their beauty."

The Bell of Manifestation.

Dr. Kurr picks up a bottle and drinks from it.

"Lo on the fifth day, the Mother, sensing some plan on behalf of El, created the Bell of Personal Power, its surface engraved with glimmering lights. She rang it, granting the creatures of the earth to come, autonomy."

The Bell of Personal Power.

She flips another page.

Dr. Kurr: "On the 6th day, God made the land animals and convened the Mother’s help to shape mankind from the most fertile of clay. By her unerring grace all animals and humans were granted autonomy and power through the ringing of the 5th bell. Infatuated with his creations, and the qualities granted to them by his equal, El created a paradise where they might reside, and forbade them to take from the knowledge of the world."

"The Mother, seeing the potential for humankind to be more, created the Bell of Perception, bearing the wisdom of the world in the lapis lazuli carefully embedded in its surface. In the form of an owl, she came to the companion of the man named Adam. Her name was Eve, and the Mother spoke to Eve of the beauty of the world in the depths of dreams, and how much more she could be should she partake of the wisdom soaked fruit. Eve listened to her hoots, and consumed the apple from the tree as the Mother rang the bell, granting her wisdom. She then told Adam, and together they consumed more of the fruit, and gained much knowledge. El was displeased and banished them from the garden, resolving to enact the plan on the Mother in retribution for her transgression."

The Bell of Perception.

Dr. Kurr turns another page, pauses and takes another sip of water from the bottle on her desk.

Dr. Kurr: "On The 7th Day, the Sons of Abraham claim El rested but this is false. Certain of the next course, El created a place in the bowels of the Earth, for he foresaw the betrayal of one of his children. He impressed upon the Mother a new task in the order of his creation. She would oversee the Dead, and sort them based on the way they lived their lives, sending them to heaven or limbo or hell. The children of Abraham mistakenly labeled her Lilith, but she took on another name. In response, she forged the final bell, the Bell of Compassion, and rather than decorate it she forged a breastplate to sustain herself against the harshness of El's onslaught."

The Bell of Compassion.

"Their debate raged for eons, but the bells and their gifts were not enough for the Mother to overcome El. In one final act of desperation, the Mother collapsed the highest peaks of many mountains atop her body, covering herself in darkness and severing her right arm. El took this as his victory prize, and gave her peace. In the end she was not able to overcome her fate, and she resigned to the task she'd been given. In the depths she retooled the bells to serve new purposes, to manage the dead she would come to hold dear, and to forge a Queendom all her own. But she did not resent El, for in his selfishness, he had granted the Mother of the Dead freedom over a world all her own. For one day, the seeds of wisdom she planted in long yesterday would bloom into reverence and balance to check El's aggression into love."

Dr. Kurr flips the book closed.

Dr. Kurr: "This is just one version of the mythology, and it changes based on who you speak with. The Moriscos had their own versions of the tale before they were deported enmasse from Spain."

Dr. Kurr frowns and her shoulders sag for a moment, before her eyes return to Dr. Sarkis.

Dr. Sarkis: "What were the bells' new purposes?"

Dr. Kurr leaned down, and brought out an ornamental set of bells, setting them on the desk.

Dr. Kurr: "Why don't you guess first?"

Dr. Sarkis: "Honestly, I don’t think I have enough context or familiarity to make a decent guess.”

Dr. Kurr: "The first bell was reworked to grant or take speech from the dead. The second, bend the dead's spirit to the ringer's will. The third to restore the mind. The fourth to restore or deprive form and beauty to the listener. The fifth to restore or rob autonomy, sixth to repair or steal memory and knowledge, the seventh to reconstruct or destroy emotions."

Dr. Sarkis: "Fascinating… and I suppose this is another case of syncretism? Given the replacement of the snake in the Garden of Eden with an Owl?"

Dr. Kurr: "It would seem so. It is an interesting replacement at the very least."

Several minutes of silence pass between them as Dr. Sarkis scribbles down everything Dr. Kurr has said. Dr. Kurr picks up her bottle as Dr. Sarkis is finishing her writing, and drinks from it.

Dr. Sarkis: "Do you think the Mother of the Dead and God are lovers in this version of the myth?"

Dr. Kurr chokes on water, putting the bottle down and coughing for several seconds, before responding.

Dr. Kurr: "No, no I don't believe so, not in any of the myths or scripture I've seen. More of a brother and sister. If anything, the Mother of the Dead has little, if any sexual connotations."

Dr. Sarkis nods and writes another line on her notepad.

Dr. Sarkis: "Do you have any copies of those texts that I could take with me?"

Dr. Kurr: "Of course."

Dr. Kurr reaches back to the book shelf, and pulls an identical volume to the one she was reading from. Dr. Sarkis takes the volume and places it in her bag.

Dr. Sarkis: "Thanks. So when precisely did the Great Lady start appearing in Valencian art and scripture? Without access to local records it's been… difficult for me or other outside scholars to understand the time period in which she first became an influential religious and mythological figure? When did the culture start to transition to the teachings we've seen for the past millenia?"

Dr. Kurr: "It depends on which source you look at. Some claim that the Mother, the Great Lady, first began appearing around the time of El Cid."

Dr. Sarkis: "That seems a little late, based on the written transcriptions of his stories. Seems a little peculiar for such a strong culture to become so ingrained so quickly.

Dr. Kurr: "Indeed, which is why I believe it started much earlier. The earliest attested sources are from around 830-840 CE, when several Valencian poets and historians wrote in vagaries about changes to worship in Valencian Mosques and Churches that resemble early versions of the more modern practices. There are some… interesting specifics that weren't carried over."

Dr. Sarkis: "Such as?"

Dr. Kurr: "An entourage of celestial beings that answered to the Mother but not God, the presence of an endless city in the underworld for the dead, the use of the word 'Elil' in place of God or El in old Spanish, mentions of souls being a river of fire. It's a shame we lack significant scripture or text from this period."

Dr. Sarkis: "I would love to compare them, but if there's no surviving scripture, then…"

Dr. Kurr:"Then it was buried or destroyed. Sadly, many texts have been lost to the annals of history it seems."

Dr. Sarkis: "Shameful, but still far more than I hoped for."

Another minute of silence passes between them as Dr. Sarkis scribbles on her notepad.

Dr. Sarkis: "This is all very helpful Dr. Kurr, and raises many more questions about the Great Lady."

Dr. Kurr taps her fingers on the desk.

Dr. Kurr:"With this new dearth of knowledge, Tell me what you think, both about what you knew before, and know now."

Dr. Sarkis:"…"

Dr. Sarkis hesitates, sitting back in the chair.

Dr. Sarkis:"If I tell you what I think, you'll think I'm crazy."

Dr. Kurr leans forward.

Dr. Kurr:"Try me."

Dr. Sarkis:"This won't leave this room?"

Dr. Kurr:"Of course."

Dr. Sarkis:"I don't think the Great Lady of Valencia, the Mother of the Dead, is a purely folkloric figure. I believe she's some sort of genuine entity. Which has taken up residence here."

Dr. Kurr:"Oh? Curious. What makes you believe this?"

Dr. Sarkis:"Looking through historical records, there are consistent… phenomena, unusual occurrences, documented hundreds of years apart by different outside individuals from different foreign cultures, associated with one figure or the other. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about."

Dr. Kurr:"The strange visions and delusions, figures in the fog in the journals of historical figures. Yes."

Dr. Kurr leans back in her chair, shifting a hand to rub her chin.

Dr. Kurr:"Most historians dismiss those conversations with a strange otherworldly figure as the result of bad bread, rotten food, or dreams recalled in place of memory."

Dr. Kurr:"You believe them real?"

Dr. Sarkis:"I believe it's a possibility."

Dr. Kurr:"So. Instead of some imagined enemy or ally, you believe the Great Lady to be a real entity."

Dr. Kurr:"Interesting."

Dr. Kurr:"Have you found evidence other than the ravings of historical figures in journals?"

Dr. Sarkis:"I was looking into it, and I found…. military records, from the Spanish Civil War. I'm not much of a military historian, but after the loss at the XYZ line, an unusual amount of resources were dedicated to a military operation somewhere between Barcelona and Valencia, away from the main front. There are reports of similar phenomena to those observed in those other records, paired with more destructive effects, up until that point. Then, Nationalist forces captured… someone. The records don't give a name of the individual, but after that point, those effects seem to lessen, or cease."

Dr. Kurr sits up in her chair, an indiscernible expression passing across her face.

Dr. Kurr:"I see. I am not a military historian."

The professor’s voice changes to a cautious tone.

Dr. Kurr:"Did you find any description of who they captured?"

Dr. Sarkis:"Just that she was a tall, imposing looking woman."

Dr. Sarkis gestures.

Dr. Sarkis:"It was vague."

Dr. Kurr:"Hmmm. That could mean anything, potentially a republican leader?"

Dr. Sarkis:"There weren't any good candidates that I could find."

Dr. Kurr leans back in her chair, pressing fingers to her chin again.

Dr. Kurr:"Have you dug any further into it?"

Dr. Sarkis:"I've run out of places to dig. Except you."

Dr. Kurr:"I've reviewed most local sources during that period and while there is an abrupt fall off in… cultural celebration after the civil war, I cannot say I have seen anything regarding a person being worthy of capture with massing of military resources."

Dr. Kurr:"But perhaps there is actually a Great Lady of Valencia who was indeed captured by Franco."

Dr. Sarkis tilts her head to one side.

Dr. Sarkis:"You don't think that's a crazy idea?"

Dr. Kurr:"When you've lived in this city long enough, you see a lot of things the rest of the world doesn't believe."

Dr. Sarkis:"Such as?"

Dr. Kurr smiles.

Dr. Kurr:“Ah are you aware of the incidents after Franco’s regime came to an end?”

Dr. Sarkis:"A lot of things happened after the fall of Franco's regime. What specifically do you mean?"

Dr. Kurr:“During the transition back to democracy, there was a large number of… unalive things that rose up and targeted specifically members of Valencian society who had enforced fascist ideals during Franco’s reign. Outside influences were called in to deal with them and tried to remove people’s memory.”

She pauses, and tilts her head to one side.

Dr. Kurr:“Ah but listen to me. You must think I am insane.”

Dr. Sarkis shakes her head.

Dr. Sarkis:"I don't think you're insane. You have documentation of this?"

Dr. Kurr:“That has not been seized or burned by those outsiders? A few newspapers, but no films or tapes. They seized all of those before the citizenry ran them out.”

Dr. Sarkis:"That'd probably explain why it didn't come up in my research. I'd like to see those newspapers… If that could be arranged."

Dr. Kurr:“Of course.”

Dr. Kurr pushes her chair back and moves to a cabinet. After several minutes of sorting and searching through file cabinets, she pulls out a folder and retakes her seat. She opens the folder, and several papers are inside.

Video footage captures several headlines as Dr. Kurr spreads the headlines on her desk: “Dead Rise on Eve of Franco’s Death!” “Return of the Great Lady heralds a new renaissance for Valencia” “The Mother of Death Restores Valencia.”

Dr. Sarkis gasps at a low volume. She examines the papers which are preserved in sealed lamination.

After ~three minutes Dr. Sarkis sits back and looks up at Dr. Kurr.

Dr. Sarkis:"These articles, do you have digital copies you could share?"

Dr. Kurr:"If you provide an address I can certainly do so."

Dr. Sarkis pulls a notebook out from her pocket, tears out a page, and writes on it for several seconds. She offers it to Dr. Kurr, who takes it, looks at it for several seconds, and then nods.

Dr. Sarkis:"Thanks, Dr. Kurr."

Dr. Kurr:"Of course, happy to help another lover of history."

Dr. Sarkis looks down for several seconds, looking at the newspapers again before looking back up.

Dr. Sarkis:"…Do you believe in the Great Lady of Valencia, Dr. Kurr?"

Dr. Sarkis pauses, her brow furrowing.

Dr. Kurr:“Well if you listen to some of the people in this department, you would think I was the Great Lady.”

Dr. Kurr snorts, and smiles.

Dr. Kurr:“But to answer your question, I am a woman of science and evidence. Do I believe there is something more here? Maybe. Do I believe in the Great Lady? I do not know.”

Aliyah rocks her head to one side.

Dr. Sarkis:"You mean your colleagues think highly of you? Or…"

Dr. Kurr:“Yes. They think highly of me, in multiple ways. I am two meters tall, Dr. Sarkis.”

Dr. Sarkis:"I noticed."

She smirks.

Dr. Sarkis:"But the other people in your department know about her as well… Do you think they believe in her?"

Dr. Kurr tilts her head at the question.

Dr. Kurr:“I suppose you could say they do. Even men and women of reason are not immune to the comfort of superstition.”

Dr. Sarkis nods in agreement.

Dr. Sarkis:"Absolutely."

Dr. Sarkis:"If… Someone wanted to investigate this further. Is there anywhere or anyone else you would recommend?"

Dr. Kurr taps a finger against her chin for several seconds.

Dr. Kurr:"I would try poking around one of the churches, perhaps talking to the local clergy."

Dr. Sarkis:"I've tried that before. It didn't really go anywhere."

Dr. Sarkis:"I get the sense it's not something they talk to outsiders about."

Dr. Sarkis looks at Dr. Kurr again. She emits a small noise and Dr. Kurr tilts her head.

Dr. Kurr:"Hmmm, maybe try poking around them anyways? The Clergy love to lecture the citizenry."

Dr. Sarkis:"I could give it another shot, I suppose. Would they recognize your name? Could you… Give me an introduction?"

Dr. Sarkis:"Is there anyone specific I should contact?"

Dr. Kurr:"I have a connection through the Church at San Nicolás who collaborates with the Clergy on matters of preservation. Her name is Natalia Iten, dark hair, brown eyes, mid-twenties or so. She should be able to help you if you tell her I sent you. If you can't find her, look for Fernando Ratman."

Dr. Sarkis:"Thanks."

Dr. Sarkis smiles and rises, offering her hand. Dr. Kurr rises and takes the hand, shaking.

Dr. Sarkis:"I'll email you if I have any more questions?"

Dr. Kurr:"Please. I may take a few days to respond. I am not as good at technology as some of my colleagues."

Dr. Sarkis gives Dr. Kurr a thumbs up.

Dr. Sarkis:"Thanks. I, uh, hope we meet again."

<End Log>

Postword: Following her meeting with Dr. Kurr, Dr. Sarkis notified her office she was traveling to the Church at San Nicolás. She was last seen entering the Church on public CCTV cameras, and did not reemerge. Examining extant employee records of the Church at San Nicolás failed to identify any current or former employees with the name Natalia Iten or Fernando Ratman.

• Disappearance of Dr. Sarkis:

Dr. Sarkis could not be located following multiple searches of the Cathedral at San Nicolás and the surrounding districts of Valencia. Foundation officials attempted to contact Dr. Emily Kurr following their initial searches, only to be informed that she had departed the evening following her interview with Dr. Sarkis for a conference in Cairo, Egypt.

Foundation officials initiated search efforts to identify any potential information that could be used to locate Dr. Sarkis, at which time regional command granted permission to examine her personal quarters. Dr. Sarkis' quarters contained a number of previously undiscovered journal entries from historical figures, torn or lost pages of primary sources that were, otherwise, unaccounted for in SCP-8710's files. These documents were laminated and protected, and Dr. Sarkis had made a number of copies which were scattered around her apartment. The following section contains excerpts from these pages, and her most relevant notes.

• Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar

Author: Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar

And that is where I found her. The Witch-Queen of Valencia stood before me in all her grandeur. She wore a crown of finger bones atop a waterfall of blood-soaked curls that draped from her head. Her right arm was gone, replaced with some sort of construct of bone, and I thought she must surely be a demon for the arm moved as naturally as the one that was fully fleshed. And her eyes, her eyes were lucid blue flames, dancing in their sockets. Forgive me lord, and forgive me Doña for my thoughts strayed to temptation for so beautiful a creature this Witch was.

Dr. Sarkis' Note: A new title, but I’m sure she’s the same figure. The clearest physical description of the Mother of the Dead yet. Rodrigo paints quite a picture.

• Tribunal of the Holy Office of the Inquisition

Response: Tribunal of the Holy Office of the Inquisition to King Ferdinand II of Aragon.

We demanded her surrender and she looked at us as if we were but gnats, a thing to be swatted.

One of the Hermandads drew his blade and ran her through. It did nothing. The sky darkened, and then blackness consumed the hapless man, wrapping him in a cocoon of night. His screams were horrible.

She said to us "Take your inquisition, and flee. Flee Valencia, for it is not yours to hold." You must forgive me, your Majesty, for our legs did not stop until we were far past the city walls.

Dr. Sarkis' Note: Idiots. Lucky she let the rest of them go. Much more merciful than she could have been.

Foreign Ontokinetic Interference Detected

Document alterations detected. Countermeasures activating.

Countermeasures failed. Audio-Visual documentation playing.

Brace for possible Deific Indoctrination.

Date: ██/██/████

Participants: Dr. Aliyah Sarkis, SCP-8710-01 (reclassified to SCP-8710, see D-8710-02).

WARNING, ONTOKINETIC EFFECT ACTIVE.
SUBSTANTIAL DOCUMENTATION ALTERATIONS DETECTED.

Foreword: On ██/██/████ an internet connection was established with Dr. Aliyah Sarkis' personal recording equipment and live footage of Dr. Sarkis exploring the lower levels of the Church at San Nicolás was broadcast on a secure channel throughout Site-137. Attempts to modify the following logs to reflect standard documentation have been abandoned due to external ontokinetic influences that have failed to be countered by standard countermeasures. At the time of video broadcast, a unique Akiva radiation signature was detected by onsite sensors. Comparison against existing sensor logs both at Site-137 and field measurements did not align with SCP-8710's unique signature, instead aligning with readings typically associated with Abrahamic religious sites.

Dr. Sarkis finds herself moving deeper into the bowels of San Nicolás. It is an older building, but not quite as old as some of the buildings within the city. Natalia gave her instructions for how to access some of the deeper archives within the church, apparently a place with first-hand accounts of the Great Lady. Exactly what Dr. Sarkis has been looking for.

She follows Natalia's directions, and instructions, traveling deeper down towards those archives.

She stops seeing people after descending the third flight of stairs.

Eventually she steps into a basement area, drenched in dust and cobwebs with shelves upon shelves of ancient books.

She pulls out a set of gloves from her bag. She doesn't want to contaminate any of these documents with skin oils or dirt she might carry in. She looks at the note and navigates to the sections she was instructed to, where she can begin her search.

And finds herself facing a wall. There's indentation in the brick like a buttress for a window frame, but it is nothing but brick there. She saw several of these in between the shelves as she walked this way.

Even still there's an odd vibe to this segment that she can't quite place.

She looks at the wall, cocking her head. Thinking. As she thinks, she lets her eyes wander, tracing the lines in the brickwork as she stands very still.

The bricks, at first glance, seem to remain bricks. But as she looks closer, she notices a shimmer.

Her head slowly rolls to one side, and she reaches out a gloved hand to touch the shimmering bricks.

As her fingers touch them, she feels herself suddenly and inexplicably drawn forward. It happens so quickly there's no time to react, one moment she's touching the brick, the next she's sucked through like a cockroach in a vacuum tube.

Then she's falling.

Her camera cuts out, the light turning off as her flashlight flickers, falling falling falling.

Thrust into absolute darkness she feels the rising sensation in her gut… falling, falling. A normal person would probably be terrified beyond all reason. Aliyah, no Aliyah finds herself thinking about the wall.

She's aware she's about to die.

Hopefully. There are much worse things anomalies can do to a person.

But she's extremely curious about the how and intends to use her last moments considering it.

Those last moments fast approach as light rises amazingly fast below her.

Then all of a sudden she's on her back, laying on something soft.

Oh. Huh. Cozy.

It takes her a moment to realize. She's not dead. As far as she can tell. She flexes her fingers and toes, taking a mental inventory.

Her camera crackles back on, the little recording button lighting back up.

She turns her head to look at her camera. What am I laying in?

There's a fair bit of ambient light here, as her vision adjusts, she's laying in a field of yellow flowers. Beyond the flowers is the edge of a cliff, multiple floating islands suspended in thin air.

She scoops up her camera, sitting up. Aliyah frowns, stomach sinking a bit as she realizes she crushed the flowers. Slowly getting to her feet and sweeping up the camera to look over the cliff, at those floating islands. She lets out a whistle. The whistle echoes, bouncing off many walls.

Down below her stretching for what must at least be a mile, is a deep pitted canyon. A river of blue-green mist runs endlessly through it, undulating along. Carved into the sides of the cliff are many buildings of different architectural styles representing an indeterminate number of historical periods. The highest set buildings are more recognizably modern, but the further down she looks, the more ancient they become.

She walks over, to stand at the edge of the cliff, stability be damned. Getting the best look she can down towards its foot, and that glowing river. It stretches out before Aliyah, winding on endlessly. Her head tilts aways to her right as she notices the little island she is on is connected by rope and board bridges to other similar floating islands, jagged icebergs of earth dripping down into the deep canyon below.

She looks, and points her camera up, to see if there's anything interesting in the direction she came from, before she heads for the bridge.

There's nothing but black above her.

She turns to move towards the bridges. They cross a network of islands, a much larger structure towering in the distance. It's a Frankenstein of a building, traces of what was probably once a Ziggurat or pyramid carved into the cliff-face, now decorated with marble Greek columns in a neo-classical style and a mash of other modern architectural features.

Aliyah starts making her way across the rope bridges, towards the structure. "Maybe I can ask someone for directions." she deadpans to herself, and the camera.

Her boots creak on the ancient wooden boards as she moves between the islands, what seemed at a distance as glowing rocky outcrops now so clearly stand towering over her on each island. Golden metal gleaming spires in the ambient lighting tower over her as she walks past, blue-green fog writhing within. About 3/4ths of the way up these structures, Owls loom in the shadows cast, seven bells gripped in their beaks.

Aliyah lets the camera linger on each structure in turn, stopping partway over the bridge when she makes her closest approach to the golden structures on the surrounding islands. She films them, slowly panning up to the owls, which she lingers on. She does this with each spire in turn, always when she reaches the point on the bridge where she is at her closest approach.

It takes around 30 minutes or so for her to reach the foot of the immense structure carved into the cliff face. Banners hang, suspended from parapets that are 4-5 stories above her head as she traces the shape of the wall. Intricate symbols are carved into the exterior of the walls, something old that Aliyah doesn't recognize.

A doorway with jagged teeth on the top stands before her, the light only reaching a few feet beyond the doorframe before it settles into an ominous gloom.

Aliyah stops outside the structure, taking in as much detail as she can.

When she’s finished, she faces forward, and plunges onward. If the abrupt termination of the ambient light gives her any pause it's not apparent.

A few feet into the dark she walks, and her eyes seem to adjust. The darkness ebbs and flows around her in swirling eddies, as if subjected to a constant but almost static flow. In places it's bright enough to see, but as she moves if she walks to the right or left by a foot or more she's in pitch black. When she looks down at the floor, swirls are etched into the stone, ornate grooved erosive marks that should not happen outside of water.

Every step deeper in brings a stunning chill of cold. As she shines her flashlight murals alight on the wall, vivid and brilliant colors, depicting people, events, places, and times that she cannot place. But there are some, some that seem familiar, the deeper she moves the more familiar they become.

"To the naked eye, the darkness appears to have a visible structure," she narrates for the camera, "The camera isn't picking it up. It's like…" She pauses, "A disruption in a creek. Swirls and eddies. It's a flow. Light seems to be having trouble penetrating certain areas." She tries sticking her flashlight into one of those dark regions and filming it to demonstrate.

"Dark regions are extremely cold." She turns back to filming the murals and etchings, proceeding slowly.

As she moves past the entryway the flow becomes more apparent, moving past Aliyah's feet like a river curtain and settling down to just below her waist. As she moves along the murals, the walls begin to bend strangely, the floor tilting in unnatural ways to the right.

"The… structured darkness, the flow, has settled to the bottom of the corridor the deeper I go in. It's almost up to my waist. Still very cold."

She illustrates this with her flashlight again, dunking it beneath the 'surface' and pulling it back up.

"It's… like a river." She keeps moving forwards, making sure the distortion shows up on camera.

The darkness does not follow the reorientation as if it's fully defying what feels like gravity. It flows along the ceiling now as Aliyah's trajectory places her completely upside down, having at one point walked over murals, and now walking on what is the ceiling if she shines her flashlight far enough back. The murals are deeply familiar now, she can pick out events as they occurred during the Roman and Parthian Empires.

In the distance a source of illumination is slowly getting closer as she walks.

She continues to proceed at her slow pace, taking in the Murals, carefully picking over the shifting terrain.

The murals continue to flow into one another, the march of time apparent in the depiction of historic events as the light grows, the river of darkness no longer just singularly darkness, but blue-green thick fog that moves atop the blackened layer like a flame. The symbols decorating the wall remain unrecognizable as they were when she first stepped inside; however. The light is blinding after spending so long in the chilly dark and Aliyah has to shield her eyes.

She steps out into a central courtyard. As Aliyah's eyes adjust to the light she's greeted by a small field of flowers stretching out to the foot of another structure at the back of the space. Great gleaming fire pits made of gold painted metal circle the enclosure. Sculptures of earth and metal of innumerable shapes and concepts litter the surrounding walls, accompanied by Murals of a shining city, a city whose architecture Aliyah knows all too well.

And immediately before her against a back wall is a 4-5 story high ziggurat.

Made completely of human bones.

Perched upon the top is a throne, framed perfectly by two immense metal spires resembling those on the islands that sit in the field of flowers. A metal arch runs between the spire, seven bells suspended perfectly from them, accompanied by seven enormous ornamental owls in seven quite different compositions.

She moves the camera around, looking at the murals, at the statues… but she seems more hurried, eyes continuing to dart to the throne.

She stares at it, not stopping to take in the new murals like she has previously but approaching the bone ziggurat.

A heavy shadow, a darkness, shades the throne. It takes a moment for her to realize that the darkness, the river, flows down the steps of the structure, from the throne itself.

Then something moves at the top, a silhouette obscured in the shade.

Aliyah keeps approaching. The camera remains on the figure, but wanders, as she's not looking through the viewfinder anymore, keeping it carefully trained.

A pair of brilliant soulfire-blue flames dancing in the shade. A voice, deep and old rings through the air, causing Aliyah to stop in place momentarily. "šilig."

In spite of this seeming command, it seems… less effective than it should be, for her muscles twitch and she steps forward again after a moment. Proceeding relentlessly forward.

After cycling through several more words, stymying Aliyah's motion each time, the deep voice cuts through in English. "Halt."

Aliyah stops, more out of courtesy than out of supernatural compulsion. Her gaze lingers on the throne and the shadowed figure in it.

A long and tense silence sinks into the air and Aliyah. "You intrude upon our domain, disturb that which should not be disturbed. The way is shut to the living."

Aliyah watches, head slowly tilting to one side. Her expression is one of keen interest. "What shouldn't be disturbed? And what way do you mean?"

"The way is shut to the living. You are not among the dead. You sully this place with your living breath." A hand, skeletal in the light shifts out of shadow and into the ambient warmth, pointing at Aliyah from where the figure has risen off the throne. "Leave."

"Don't know how," she says simply, looking amused.

A moment of silence passes between them, and then a deep, eternal bell cuts through the silence, and all matter like a knife through butter. It resonates in Aliyah's soul, and a momentary compulsion wriggles in her mind, the words 'leave' attempting to take root and cling to her conscious will.

It simmers out as she returns to lucidity, finding herself about three steps back towards the door, her back to the figure, regaining control of her body.

A bit of a jolt as she returns to herself, looking back over her shoulder. "Neat trick… Uh, do you really want me to leave? I don't think I can get back on my own, but I could go back to the flower fields."

"…Do you know Natalia?"

"Silence, Jailer." The bell rings again, and the process repeats, this time there's more effort put in and she finds herself standing about ten steps further away from where she was.

"You know the Hand? Neat." She starts walking back towards the corridor on her own.

"…wait. How are you doing that?"

"…Doing what?" she's talking over her shoulder, still poised to leave.

"You resist the bells."

"Dunno? I've scored pretty high on cognitohazard resistance, before." She smiles through hooded eyes looking smug as if she's told a bad joke.

The silhouette tilts its head. "No mind is capable of withstanding us."

"Is that so?" She slowly turns to face the throne again. "Do you want me to be silent and leave? Or do you want to talk about that?"

"Return to the center between the spires."

She gives a thumbs up. "Will I see you there?"

"You shall see what we wish you to see, Jailer."

"I'll see you there," her voice has the barest hint of flirtation clinging to the tongue. She turns back towards the door, starting to walk.

The door suddenly closes, a pillar of rock sealing it off.

She turns back again, tilting her head.

"Return to the center between the spires." A hint of indiscernible emotion seeps into the voice, breaking the flat and stoic tone.

"…Wait, did you mean the spires in here, or out there?" She turns around. "I thought you were telling me to leave."

"…in here."

Aliyah gives a thumbs up and approaches.

"Name yourself," the silhouette says.

"Dr. Aliyah Sarkis. And you?"

"What is your reason for intruding upon this place and disturbing our eternal work?" She ignores Aliyah's question.

"Well. I never really meant to come here. I didn't know there was a here to come to. A wall pulled me in. But, uhh, As for why I was searching for anything… I wanted to get to the bottom of a mystery. I wanted to meet you."

The eyes in the shadows narrow. "Why?"

"Well. It's my job. But more importantly… I was curious, about you. I wanted to meet you in person. See what you were like." She smiles again.

The silhouette lets that hang in the air for a moment before she moves. Taking several steps, she exits the shadow. Towering at least 2.2 meters tall, she stands there like a geographic figure, dominating the visual field even from on top of the pyramid of bone. Her hair gleams in the ambient light, maroon and dripping down her frame like blood, contrasting the piercing blue of her flame-like eyes. She wears gleaming golden armor that covers most of her upper body, and leg-guards that protect much of her legs.

The right arm is severed at the shoulder joint, replaced with a prosthetic of blackened human arm bones. Her face is framed by a crown of human fingerbones, and bleached white jawbones decorating each cheek, while the remainder of her face is painted hauntingly white with black accentuating the shadows to resemble a skull.

A great spear with seven gleaming blades, that really resembles a shield more than a spear, is gripped by the prosthetic. In her left hand she holds a cage, a censer with bells that emit deep chilling tones with every slight motion, leaking blue-green acrid fog that drips down the steps.

"…It's good to meet you again, Dr. Kurr," Aliyah says after a pause. Her tone is… snarky, but a genuine smile creases her lips.

"We do not know that name." She narrows her eyes at Aliyah. "You are not afraid, are you?"

Aliyah cocks her head to the other side, before shaking it, still smiling.

"We are the Great Lady of Valencia," The Great Lady says, the whole area darkening with her proclamation.

Aliyah bows. "It's good to meet you. Finally, though… Are you sure we haven't met before?"

The Great Lady of Valencia tilts her head.

She tosses her shield with the barest of effort, it whirls through the air, a spinning disc of screeching metal, and lands next to Aliyah. The Witch Queen of Valencia raises the censer and rings the bells within.

Aliyah steps away from the flight path of the shield, though not with much urgency.

A tremendous roar echoes through the cavern, diving from the shadows above, the spectral shade of a great dragon whips down and flows over the pyramid.

The roar finally finally provokes a reaction; Aliyah cringes and covers her ears at the volume of the noise.

The Mother of Death shifts, and leaps, feet landing on the dragon’s nose as it ripples down the steps and carries her across the distance between them. She jumps off right in front of Aliyah, her landing causing the earth to shake with the enormity of the impact of her concept. The Sorceress of Al Andalus towers over Aliyah, a mountain of a woman.

Aliyah takes a moment to recover, and as the great lady drops in front of her, and the ground beneath her feet shakes, she looks up at the woman towering over her with a quizzical expression. "Seems like a lot of effort to avoid going down stairs," she teases, and smiles.

The Great Lady stares at her for a long moment. "We could crush you beneath our heel."

Aliyah touches her own chin in thought. There's a lot of crass things she could say to that, but she wants to make a good first impression. "You could. And I couldn't do anything to stop you."

"We could strip the flesh from your bones, dissolve your very concept into ash in the wind." The Great Lady stares, eyes searching the other woman's for… something.

"That's a bit less fun…" she mutters to herself, under her breath. "I don't doubt you could." shrug, "What's your point?"

"We are the Mother of Death, Mover of the Earth, Master of Darkness, Eater of Dreams, and yet you stand here. You do not move."

"Why would I move? You told me to stand here?"

"You should be cowering before me, fleeing to the nearest escape and direction in utter terror, whimpering as your memory erodes before my aura. But you are just standing. Right there." Something approaching exasperation leaks between the flatness in her tone.

"Why? This is your, like, domain. I don't think it'd really make it harder for you to kill me if I ran. And if you wanted to kill me, you already would have?"

The Master of Darkness works her jaw. "That's not the point. What's going on, are we being pranked? We are terrifying."

"I'm not usually terrified of beautiful women," Aliyah smiles again in the same way. It's infuriating.

The Great Lady just stares at her for a long moment, before looking up. "Abigail! This is not funny! Show yourself!"

"Who's Abigail?" Aliyah's lips purse, looking very confused.

"Silence, you won't remember for long." She waits a good 15-30 seconds and when no one materializes she works her jaw again and looks back down at Aliyah. "Who sent you?"

"You already know that? You called me a Jailer earlier."

"Yes, but Jailers are never…" She gestures at Aliyah, breaking her dramatic demeanor, the exasperation leaking into every motion now. Despite the face paint, color leaks through, on her cheeks. "This."

Shrug. "I was never very good at being a Jailer."

She just stares at Aliyah for a long, long moment. About a minute of silence between them before her hand shoots out and touches Aliyah's temples. "Forget it, we'll erase your memories and send you on."

Aliyah looks like a puppy that has just been kicked, but she doesn't pull away from the touch. "I wish you wouldn't."

Aliyah's memories begin to waver and fade. "A jailer with no fear is a threat to my dominion that I cannot tolerate." In seconds, her memory is drained away, and she can't remember precisely where she is, or what she was doing. There is a woman touching her forehead, and a blinking camera in her hand.

Aliyah's eyes drift, between the woman's arms, her surroundings, the camera. She slowly looks up into the unfamiliar woman's face. "You have pretty eyes."

The camera cuts to black.

<Log Abruptly Ends>

Postword: Following end of video log, Dr. Aliyah Sarkis is now believed to be contained within a Pocket Dimension containing the source of SCP-8710. Efforts to search the Church at San Nicolás were unable to locate an entryway into the pocket space. As Dr. Sarkis has now been exposed to high levels of deific interference, should she be returned she is to be remanded, and subjected to memetic and deific deprogramming protocols. Further examination of materials retrieved from Dr. Sarkis' quarters is of highest priority to affect her retrieval.

• Juan de Ribera

Author: Juan de Ribera

Securing Agents Note: Original document was soaked in dried blood.

I see her in my nightmares, everywhere. Blue flaming eyes, arm of bone, always pressing, always advancing. I cannot sleep, I have not slept soundly in months. Damn her! Damn the Great Lady of Valencia! No, no even now I hear her steps. She comes for m—

Dr. Sarkis' Note: The Great Lady’s mercy might not be endless, but you have to give her credit for a great sense of comedic timing.

Incident Log I-8710-02

Incident Report I-8710-02

Date: ██/██/████

Participants: Dr. Aliyah Sarkis, SCP-8710-01 (reclassified to SCP-8710, see D-8710-02).

<Begin Log>

Video feeds reactivate, capturing Dr. Aliyah Sarkis standing in the midst of a new environment, her eyes hazy and unfocused.

A sprawling multi-level complex with flowing water that trickles into waterfalls pans out in all visible directions. Plants hang from large suspended planters. Thick, dirt-coated floors with stone paving compose the upper levels, deep rooted plants springing from fertile soil. Luscious looking fruits, vines, and vegetables cascading in a flurry of Greenery.

"…" Aliyah surveys the marvel, jaw agape. It reminds her of the hanging gardens. Can architecture die? Does it have a soul? she wonders.

The researcher's eyes go wide, and she reels a bit as all the memories crash back into her, and she suddenly remembers where she is and why. She shakes her head to banish the sudden head rush it brings, before looking around for the Great Lady.

Dr. Kurr walks past Dr. Sarkis, her attire having demonstrably changed. She's in a skirt that has a long, almost cape-like back, with a short front, wearing a brazen top that covers parts of her arms, her chest and a strap on her shoulders. Calf high sandals frame half leggings on her legs

"Again and again we've tried but…We can't even erase your memories. Who are you?"

Aliyah tilts her head, trying to claw at the memory where she introduced herself. "I already told you. I think?"

Dr. Kurr pauses in front of Aliyah, evaluating her. "Yes. Again and again you've spoken your reason and identity. Yet…"

For a moment she looks over Aliyah, before shifting, moving deeper into the gardens, gesturing for Aliyah to follow. "We're certain you've long wondered where the rumors of the gardens came from."

"…Rumors?" She blinks, before hastily stepping to follow. "I always assumed they were real, at some point, and were sacked or destroyed."

"They were real once, but they existed here before among the mortal planes. Their architects slipped into our domain, and ended up here for a time. In madness they attempted to recreate it, proclaiming it a wonder when it was only ever a fraction of what we built."

"You made these?" Aliyah looks at her, "…They're beautiful." Her cheeks darkening as she looks at Dr. Kurr.

"We built them to sustain ourselves, and favored mortals, before we realized that sustenance is no longer necessary to survive. Now, it is a means to pass the ages when our tasks are slim." There's a hint of color on her cheeks before she turns and walks deeper into the gardens.

The Great Lady rubs her face as they walk. "Why did you wish to meet us?" she asks, looking back at Aliyah.

Aliyah pauses, stopping in place, stumped by the question. Dr. Kurr stops when she does, looking at her with expectation in the wrinkles of her nose and forehead.

"…There's a lot of things I could say. It's, like, my job. I'm supposed to be working towards containing you. But… I don't think this meeting? Stay? How long I've been here, directly serves that purpose. Honestly, giving you the opportunity to kill me easily is probably counterproductive."

Aliyah pauses.

"…I could say it's because you're incredibly old, and powerful. That if I could get you to answer my questions, I could learn so much about history, about people, about long forgotten languages and cultures. But honestly, I don't think I had that coherent a material goal."

Aliyah reaches out and touches the leaf of a sprawling fern.

"…I just spent so much time researching you, how you've shaped this city, who you are and what you've done… I just had to meet you."

Dr. Kurr stands on the stones delineating the path through the lush plants, processing Aliyah's answer. "Containing us is the worst possible thing the jailers could do for this city. It would be a death sentence to its culture, a culture we've kept alive and from being perverted by outside influence for 1200 years." Her voice is flat but there's a hint of a snarl in it.

Shrug, "Like I said. I'm not very good at being a Jailer. I don't care all that much about containing you."

"Mmmm.” A long moment of silence hangs in the air between them as Dr. Kurr turns her attention up towards and opening, stretching up towards the black sky of the caverns. “We find ourselves at an impasse," the Great Lady says finally. "We cannot wipe your memory, and in spite of your proclamation of not being willing to contain me, it is still the primary goal of the nebulous ouroboros you are employed by. Besides, your absence has already stretched for some time."

"You could kill me," she reminds her, trying to be helpful.

The 'Great Lady' eyes Aliyah for a long moment, before she starts walking again. "This former goddess only kills fascists."

"Do Jailers not count?" she asks, genuinely curious.

"In your own way, you said you are not a good jailer. So, you do not count, and we have no interest in a war with the Jailers, especially when some things they suppress need to be kept locked away.” She pauses again, looking down at something for but a moment. “Your death, like the death of many small things in the soil, would do nothing but spark cataclysm." She steps forward, walking again as she ducks beneath a particularly large plant, Aliyah doing much the same.

Heavy silence sits between them as they continue to move through the ancient foliage.

"What's your favorite food?"

"Favorite?" Dr. Kurr stops and turns to face her fully, blinking

"Yeah. What's your favorite thing to cook? Or to eat.”

The question takes Dr. Kurr off guard given the prior heavy topics of conversation. She pauses for a long moment, considering how to respond before saying, "We would have to say masgouf. Our mother made it for us when we were small, and we have never forgotten." Another portentous pause, before she sets into motion again.

They come to a slightly more open pavillion like structure. A grill, carefully arranged, is set beneath one of the larger sky-light openings; light smoke drifting off it. Several large fish of indeterminate species are already grilling, covered in spices, and vegetables which are grilling alongside them.

"You are hungry?" Dr. Kurr asks.

"Starved." Aliyah replies, mouth watering. "…You'd cook for me?"

"Of course we would." She scowls. "We're not the monsters the Jailers often make us out to be."

The camera feed distorts for several minutes, before eventually resolving to normal.

"…Well. What do you want to do?" Aliyah asks, both seated at the large table, earthenware filled with various vegetables, fruit, and fish scattered across its surface.

Dr. Kurr rubs her temples, leaning back in the chair. "What are the chances you can convince your superiors to leave us be?"

Aliyah rubs her chin. "I could try."

"It would help to not go back empty handed. Perhaps knowledge and wisdom will sway their perspective?"

Aliyah watches Dr. Kurr, color rising to her cheeks. "Maybe, depending on the information."

"I will tell you all that I can."

The camera feed abruptly ends.

• Joseph Bonaparte

Author: Joseph Bonaparte

This accursed city has made a pact with the devil. No not the devil we know. No, an old-world devil. I was called to the palace steps, and She came to me in the fullness of her power as I could only stand there and watch. Our men were aghast and taken aback in the presence of her power. Dressed in the fullness of golden armor, with a seven-bladed spear that was more shield than spear; capable of blocking any blow, and a censer that spewed acrid smoke filled with the souls of the damned. She stood there in a circle of spiked white bone, eight of our men speared like Vlad Dracul had done the deed himself, earth crackling at her feet.

She said nothing, she didn't need to. I could do nothing, no one could do anything, as she turned and walked into the mist.

Brother I cannot remain, please return in haste from Moscow when you are able.

Dr. Sarkis' Note: I think I might be in love.

Artwork of 'The Great Lady of SCP-8710' composed by Dr. Sarkis.

Incident Log I-8710-03

Incident Report I-8710-03

Date: ██/██/████

Participants: Dr. Aliyah Sarkis, SCP-8710-01 (reclassified to SCP-8710, see D-8710-02).

—-
<Begin Log>

Video feed cuts in with Dr. Kurr standing before a grand mirror in a medium sized chamber. A four poster bed decorated in maroon sheets with curtains sits at the back of the room. Intricately carved furniture of wood, bone, metal, and textiled fabric luxuriate in the warm lantern light. A desk, several shelves with large paper scrolls, chairs of varying styles, and a loveseat woven with black cushions are framed against the backdrop of hundreds of wall murals.

Dr. Aliyah Sarkis sits on the loveseat, watching Dr. Kurr, chin perched on the palm of one hand.

"Once you have finished your interrogation, we will return you to the fold of your peers."

"If… You say so," Aliyah says, voice twining with the barest hint of resentment at having to leave. "I'll need to contact my superiors right away. They'll certainly be interested in hearing all about this."

She pauses for a moment.

"…I mean, meeting you and seeing all of this. Not uh, last night. They don't need the details of that."

"It would be for the best, given the prevailing attitude among the Jailers," Dr. Kurr says, paying the comment no mind.

She turns her head briefly to look at Aliyah.

"Come, let us not waste time, ask your questions."

Aliyah watches her for a moment, before shaking out her limbs. "When did you actually come to Valencia?"

Dr. Kurr's head rolls to one side as she turns back to the mirror, taking in and considering the question as she adjusts the fabric on her dress. "822 CE in your years. A man you'd know as Ziryab smuggled us and our… There's no good word in Spanish or English for the order in which those beneath us fall. Servants is… inappropriate but closest in meaning.” She pauses for several seconds. “We were smuggled; from Baghdad to Al Andalus, and beyond the reach of the Abbasid caliph."

"Huh? Why did you need to be smuggled."

Dr. Kurr sighs. "It is a long and complicated narrative, but to put in simple terms, the Caliphate, much like the Persians before them, saw our kind as a weapon and tool of influence. Only, unlike the Persians, they did not allow ourselves to be worshiped in the old ways nor roam as freely. They also did not wish us to fall into their enemy’s hands, so we were free to roam within Baghdad, but were otherwise prisoners of the court. Valencia was very different, and you could say we fell in love."

"You mentioned 'our kind', and servants, does that mean there were others of your position who came along?" Aliyah gestures.

"Yes, but we do not wish to discuss them now. They soak in enough light as is." Dr. Kurr shifts in front of the mirror and turns fully to face Aliyah.

"Did you write the mythologies yourself? Or did they arise naturally?" Aliyah tilts her head. “Did they happen for real?”

"They arose naturally, and changed over time. At first, we were far more visible in walking in the light of the Valencian day. There is always a… thrill when one reinvents themselves, and we have many, many times. But the sons of Abraham, their ways were different, distant and from afar, so we fell away from such visible appearances in favor of a passive diaspora." She pauses considering, and then scowls. "Of course El pulled it off the best of all of us, who knows where he is feasting among his riches." She considers Aliyah’s question in regards to reality. “If you cannot tell, does it matter?”

"Are you saying El is—"

"It's doubtful he did it on his own, spoiled child he always was. But in the end it seems he won." Dr. Kurr rubs her temples before gesturing. "Ask another question before I sink into self loathing."

"…How were you kept from interfering with the taking of Valencia by Nationalist forces during the Civil War? The Foundation is convinced you were somehow temporarily contained."

"They intercepted me on a train between Barcelona and Valencia," she says, gliding across the space between them, and sitting on the loveseat. "They used some sort of cube to nullify and entrap me, and then took me to one of their facilities. They tried," she snorts in amusement. "Tried to execute me three times. I killed the guards after every attempt and after that, they figured out I could not be killed." She leans against the armrest of the loveseat, and places her chin in the palm of her hand, looking ahead as she drifts in memory.

"What happened to the object?"

"I destroyed it when their special security commission was in the process of shutting down. Killed every single fascist bastard in that facility with my bare hands and erased its existence from memory while freeing the people they'd locked up for being different. Harvested the souls of the fascists and rejuvenated my censer."

"The censer's important then?"

"In a manner of speaking."

Aliyah tilts her head to one side. "Gonna elaborate on that?"

"I would prefer not to. It is unimportant for your purposes."

"How did you really lose your arm?" Aliyah asks curiously, eyes going to the arm.

Dr. Kurr turns her head to look at the researcher, staring for several seconds. "Ask another question."

Aliyah, sensing the faux pas she'd made, quickly asks another as she nods. "…This is more a question just for me, than for the foundation, is there a consistent way to get here?"

"I will answer this last, and have you turn off your camera. Ask another question."

"…You gave me a list of names and titles, earlier. Are there any other ones that might be important?"

Dr. Kurr snorts, and then for the first time, smiles. "Have you not already put it together? I thought you were an expert."

"Indulge me."

"I find it more entertaining to allow you to shoot into the dark." Dr. Kurr gestures, flicking a finger as a disc of darkness spins briefly in the air before falling into the river of mist that swirls at their feet.

"Queen of the Great Earth. Ereshkigal. Or at least, you used that name once."

"One of many names, but a blip in a life longer than one can truly remember."

"What do your friends call you?"

"Emily. At least this is the modern transliteration."

"Weird. Could have sworn you said you didn't know that name weeks ago.

Ereshkigal, Great Lady of the Earth, Witch Queen of Valencia rolls her eyes. "In spite of being a Jailer, you are amusing. If you’re done I will tell you about the gates."

“Wait I have one more question.”

“Oh?” Dr. Kurr tilted her head.

“Where was Inanna in that myth?”

Dr. Kurr wrinkles her brow in annoyance. “Stabbing herself with a ritual bone knife. Come, you will have the misfortune of meeting them soon enough. Turn off your camera and I will tell you of the ritual to pass the gates.”

Dr. Sarkis moves to turn off her camera and is stopped by Dr. Kurr, who kneels to look directly into the lens.

“El, you are a mud-eating fool to believe I wouldn’t feel your presence these past weeks. Your power is not absolute, and I see you.”

The camera cuts off.

<End Log>

Postword: Following the conclusion of the broadcast, Dr. Aliyah Sarkis reappeared in the entrance lobby of Site-137. She was immediately remanded by Site Security and stripped of clearances. Her recording equipment was retrieved for analysis. She was then escorted to a containment chamber for interrogation and amnestic treatment.

Discovery of these materials within Dr. Sarkis' personal possession, her personal notes, and the behavior observed within the incident logs indicate that as head researcher, Dr. Sarkis had deliberately conspired to obfuscate a type black anomaly in pursuit of emotional attachments. As this is a major breach of her responsibilities and abuse of her position/authority, Dr. Sarkis has been suspended from her position.

Incident Report I-8710-04

Date: ██/██/████

Locations: Site-137, Site-212A

Participants: Dr. Emily Kurr AKA SCP-8710-01 (reclassified to SCP-8710) Dr. Aliyah Sarkis, Various Security Agents.

Foreword: Following containment of Dr. Aliyah Sarkis, residents of SCP-8710 became overtly hostile, undercover agents were driven from the city, their identities as Foundation employees revealed through unknown means. At approximately 11:03 CEST, communication with Site-137 was disrupted for approximately 10 minutes. Following this disruption, O5-01-03 Dr. Sherry Andrews received a missive arranging a meeting at a secluded location.

<Begin Log>

<11:03 CEST>

Lights flicker across Site-137.

<Containment Wing>

The cameras in the containment wing where Dr. Aliyah Sarkis is being held capture three guards on station. Due to Site-137's low activity, only one actively walks up and down examining each cell while the other two guards are looking at their phones.

Guard 1: "Hey, did you just lose internet access?"

Guard 2: "Yeah I did. Hey! Did you just lose internet?"

Guard 3 pulls out their phone and taps the screen several times.

Guard 3: "Yeah. They're probably just replacing or tweaking the modem. Wait hold on, I'm not getting any cell signal either?"

Guard 1: "Well no duh dumbass. We're three stories belowground. I'd be more worried if you did get cell service."

Lights flicker in the containment wing.

Guard 2: "Light circuits must be on the fritz."

Guard 1: "Lets report this to maintenance now; just in case some fuse blows somewhere."

Guard 1 activates his radio.

Guard 1: "This is containment wing to maintenance, we've lost wifi signal down here and the lights are flickering, there might be some electrical or circuit fault. Can you send someone to handle it?"

All three guards listen as nothing but static comes back through the radio.

Guard 1: "That's weird."

Guard 2: "Here let me try, you probably just forgot to set your frequencies again. Maintenance we've got some sort of electrical/circuit issue going on in containment, can you send someone down to handle it?"

They listen again. Once more only static comes back through the radio .

Guard 3: "Maybe we're experiencing one of those CME events."

Guard 1: "A what?"

Guard 3: "Coronal mass ejection events."

Guard 2: "You've been watching too many disaster movies."

Blue-green mist rolls into the hallway from a side-corridor. None of the guards notice. Lights in Site-137's containment wing abruptly cut off.

Guard 1: "Shit! What's going on?"

Guard 2: "Blackout?"

Camera microphones pick up static from the guards’ radios.

Guard 3: "Radios are totally busted, I can't turn mine off."

Guard 1 turns on their flashlight, but it only penetrates the darkness for a short distance. The flashlight's bulb flickers repeatedly. Blue-green fog coats the floor as the microphone picks up the sound of creaking and straining metal over the radio static.

Guard 1: "What the hell?"

The static over the radio changes to a single distorted voice singing and accompanied by a melody consistent with tones produced by music boxes.

Guard 2: "Who's there?"

A thump echoes; something heavy landing on the floor. The creaking metal and music grows louder.

Guard 3: "Fucking hell, it got cold all of the sudden."

Guard 1: "There's something in the dark! I can see it moving."

A growling vocalization echoes in the hallway. Guard 1 sees something the camera does not.

Guard 1: "What the fuck is that!"

Guard 2: "Hostile! Open fire! Open fire!"

Muzzle flashes fill the hallway as the Guards shoot into the dark, illuminating many different shapes and shadows. Microphones pick up the screaming of the guards as the sound of sloshing liquids, ripping metal, and cracking bone fill the air.

After approximately thirty seconds, all sounds of struggle cease. All that can be heard is the song and melody coming through the Guards’ radios.

After approximately one minute, the lights in the hallway flicker on, all three containment guards are pinned to the wall in cocoons of bone, shadow, or rocks. The door to Dr. Aliyah Sarkis' containment chamber is ripped off its hinges. Blue-green mist lingers in the hallway.

<Site-212A>

Dr. Sherry Andrews enters a makeshift, temporary office arranged for her after promotion to O5-01-03. She sits at the desk and logs into the extranet. Lights in the room flicker, and a blue-green smog leaks from beneath the door of a closet.

Dr. Andrews: "Dafuck?"

Dr. Andrews lightly hits the monitor and then the tower of her computer. She waits for a moment and then presses a button on the phone on her desk.

Dr. Andrews: "Hey Desiree, my internet’s out, checked the ethernet cord and it's still plugged in."

She listens for a response, but all that comes back is the dial tone. She stares at the phone and taps the button again.

Dr. Andrews: "Desiree? Can you hear me?"

No response. Lights in the room flicker, drawing Dr. Andrews' attention up, and then they abruptly cut out.

Dr. Andrews: "Oh fuck this."

The sound of a baton unfolding, and a gun being cocked are picked up by the microphone. Lights cut back on. The room is unchanged with the exception of an owl made of bone perched on Dr. Andrews' desk. It is a meter tall and has an envelope in its beak.

Dr. Andrews stares at the necromantic construct, baton extended in one hand, gun pointed at the owl in the other.

Owl: Muffled "Hooo."

Dr. Andrews: "Well aren't you fucking something."

The owl drops the letter on the desk.

Owl: "Hooo."

Dr. Andrews: "Alright, creepy owl messengers, lovely start to the day. What do you want, a mouse?"

The owl turns on the desk, shuffles its wings, and then takes off, vanishing.

Dr. Andrews waits for five seconds, frowning before she holsters the pistol and collapses the baton.

She picks up the letter.

Dr. Andrews: "Jesus fucking Christ really? Leep's going to have a fit."

<End Log>

Postword: Following Incident I-8710-01 and I-8710-02, SCP-8710's documentation has been updated to reflect the source of the historical anomaly. Dr. Sherry Andrews arranged an accompanying entourage to handle negotiations with SCP-8710 in a neutral site of historic importance.

• Diplomatic Invitation

The following document contains the letter which O5-01-03 received.

To the representative of the Warden Shadow Council,

In the interest of putting to bed further conflict with your organization, and to preserve our own sovereignty and resources, we invite you to sit with us among the ruins of another world. Therein we shall discuss and negotiate a proposal to avoid bloodshed and violence on an unacceptable scale.

Your first inclination will be to deny this response and prepare methodologies to contain us based on what you now know. We have freed Dr. Aliyah Sarkis from your jail cells, and she possesses intimate knowledge of your organization. We believe a peaceful resolution that satisfies all parties is possible. Whilst we do not believe you will do so with this revelation, should you attempt to contain or double cross us, we will reveal your organization to the world, and dismantle it systematically.

Though we do believe based on our own investigation, our goals are not altogether misaligned. You may bring whoever, and however many you wish to this meeting such that you feel secure.

32°45′36.1″N 44°36′46.3″E

Yours Truly,
Abigail, Aleah, and Emily.

Diplomatic Report D-8710-01

Date: ██/██/████

Locations: Kutha, Iraq

Participants: Dr. Emily Kurr AKA SCP-8710-01 (reclassified to SCP-8710), Unknown Type Black Entity 'Abigail' (E-8710-02), Unknown Type Black Entity 'Aleah' (E-8710-03), O5-01-03 Dr. Sherry Andrews, Omega-12 ("Achilles Heels") and MTF Psi-8 ("The Silencers").

Foreword: Following reception of SCP-8710's invitation, O5-01-03 Dr. Sherry Andrews flew to Baghdad, Iraq with MTF Omega-12 ("Achilles Heels") and MTF Psi-8 "The Silencers". Global Foundation forces were put on alert for a potential HK-Class Deific Subjugation scenario.

<Begin Log>

Dr. Andrews's retinue arrives outside of Kutha as cameras begin recording. The two settlement mounds which normally occupy the site have been replaced by an ontokinetic disturbance, a large structure composed of multiple rising towers focused around a central complex taking their place. She begins walking towards the ontokinetic deviation and crosses a boundary upon which the camera view abruptly changes. An endless ocean of water stretches before the camera towards the large complex. Stars are reflected in the water, and the camera tilts up catching a large celestial body in the sky three times the size of the moon.

Dr. Andrews and her MTF retinue are escorted to a central chamber with walls and floors that bend and twist in unnatural ways. Multiple seating arrangements are already prepared, as well as several tables with large arrays of foods and drinks.

Three figures come into view, though the camera is unable to clearly resolve their features as one (SCP-8710) is cloaked completely in darkness, and the remaining two (E-8710-02 and E-8710-03) are obscured by intense light generation that leaves only their outlines visible.

E-8710-02: "Welcome, Shadow Warden, and your lovely very heavily armed escort. Sit, eat, drink, be merry. No need to come storming in like we're going right to war eh?"

Dr. Andrews: "Drop the friendly act and the games right at the door. You have us by the balls at the moment and I'm not super keen to waste any time in resolving this before it spins out of control."

Dr. Andrews pulls the sunglasses out of her hair and puts them on.

E-8710-03: "Does preventing an uncontrolled spin not consist of defusing tensions?"

E-8710-03 claps twice and multiple humanoid shaped entities emerge from several doors with trays of jewelry, precious metal bars, copper figurines, and two white stallions.

Dr. Andrews: "Are these… bribes? Are you trying to bribe me?"

SCP-8710-01: "Hardly. This is tradition, exchanging of gifts, feasting upon food and drink whilst discussing matters of state. We don't want war, and we acknowledge the role your organization plays in stabilizing the world, no matter if we disagree with the methods and approach."

Dr. Andrews: "Funny assertion that, given what you've just done in Valencia and in Site-137."

Dr. Andrews points at SCP-8710-01.

SCP-8710-01: "A regrettable shot across the bow. It would have been unnecessary if our olive branch hadn't been tossed in a cell."

E-8710-02 claps twice cutting off any further escalation.

E-8710-02: "We want the same thing here. This line of conversation will get us nowhere."

Dr. Andrews: "Do we? Do we really? I am a very busy woman Ms…"

E-8710-02: "You can call me Abigail."

E-8710-03: "Aleah."

Dr. Andrews: "Ms. Abigail and Aleah. From my perspective, I've flown half-way across the world to handle a possible broken-veil scenario before it starts. I would hope you could see how wasting my time playing out an ancient political dance, with a bunch of half-pint wannabee gods who are stuck thousands of years in the past, is trying my patience."

SCP-8710-01: "We do not do that anymore."

Dr. Andrews: "Which part?"

E-8710-02: "Play gods."

Dr. Andrews' throws up her hands.

Dr. Andrews: "Sure, whatever you tell yourself to help you sleep at night. The point stands."

E-8710-03: "Is that not your ultimate goal though?"

Dr. Andrews: "What?"

E-8710-02: "Collapsing the veil."

Dr. Andrews jaw clenches.

Dr. Andrews: "How di— Divine Authority?"

SCP-8710-01: "Yes, to all of our detriment."

Dr. Andrews rubs her temples before turning to one of the MTF.

Dr. Andrews: "Cut that part from the footage."

Ω-1: "Yes Ma'am."

Dr. Andrews turns back to the three entities.

Dr. Andrews: "You're really pushing your luck diving into my head. If you want anything to come from this, stay out."

E-8710-02: "Less your head than your desires. Fair enough though."

Dr. Andrews draws a hand down her face. She says something the camera does not pick up.

Dr. Andrews: "If you're done fucking around and wasting my time, can we actually get to what I came here for?"

Dr. Andrews breathes deeply for several seconds.

Dr. Andrews: "Ok. First, where is she?"

E-8710-03: "Where is who?"

E-8710-02: "Oh, oh are we playing the pronoun game now?"

SCP-8710-01 shifts in the darkness, pressing the outline of a hand to what is assumed to be her face.

SCP-8710-01: "Please be quiet Abigail, unless you are contributing seriously."

Dr. Andrews jaw clenches.

Dr. Andrews: "I meant Dr. Sarkis."

SCP-8710-01: "She is stowed away in a safe location, alive and well. She has a proclivity to… deflate the atmosphere."

Dr. Andrews: "What?"

SCP-8710-01: "She undermines Gravitas."

An unreadable expression crosses Dr. Andrews’ face.

Dr. Andrews: "Ok then? Listen if you're not going to take this seriously, and you're not going to let me talk to Dr. Sarkis, why am I here?"

SCP-8710-01: "You came to hear our proposal."

Dr. Andrews bangs her hand on the table, startling two nearby MTF operatives.

Dr. Andrews: "Then can we fucking get to that!?"

E-8710-02: "In fairness you asked about Dr. Sarkis. That said, we'll stop screwing with you."

Dr. Andrews clenches her fists and jaw in emotional distress, before she leans back on the couch and picks up a pastry, nearly crushing it in-between her fingers as she eats. She breathes deeply for several minutes while eating the pastry, before gesturing for E-8710-02 to go ahead.

E-8710-02: "Obviously, Emily desires to be left alone in her work, as do we. We want the Jailers— the Foundation to pull all resources and monitoring of unusual activity in Valencia and Ibiza. No more trying to wipe people's memories, no more book and video burning."

E-8710-03: "We want free and open transit with the outside world, an open port for supernatural occurrences and beings to flourish."

SCP-8710-01: "We want Dr. Sarkis reinstated in her position, and for her to serve as liaison between us, and your organization."

Dr. Andrews: "That's 2.7 fucking million people! Why not just move to 3-Ports for fucks sake, or one of the other nexus locations? Outrageous, there's no way I would agree to that."

Dr. Andrews gestures, frowning as her eyes narrow.

SCP-8710-01: "We weren't finished."

Dr. Andrews holds her palm out flat, indicating for them to continue.

E-8710-02: "In exchange we will suppress any and all posts on internet sites, social media, television programs, film or outbound phone communications about anything supernatural in Valencia and Ibiza."

E-8710-03: "We will also offer intimate knowledge on particularly dangerous supernatural circumstances, beings, or creatures that should be suppressed and removed from harming themselves or others."

E-8710-03 and -02 look at -01.

SCP-8710-01: "Lastly, we shall offer the location of, and context for materials regarding the Finnfolk."

Dr. Andrews sits up. Her eyes move to SCP-8710-01, then E-8710-02 and -03, before returning to -01.

She leans forward, picks up several plates of food, and stands.

Dr. Andrews: "I need to make some calls."

SCP-8710-01: "Is that a yes?"

Dr. Andrews: "That's a 'I need to make some calls.' Will you still be here in a few days?"

SCP-8710-01: "Of course. But do not tarry long, as we will take that to be a no."

Dr. Andrews and her retinue leave the room and the complex, returning to their vehicles.

<End Log>

Postword:Onsite readings indicated Akiiva radiation in excess of what the handheld sensors could detect, thus SCP-8710-01, -02, and -03 have been classified as Beasts of Nature. Following the meeting; Dr. Sherry Andrews contacted her Co-Overseer, O5-01-04 Leep Andrews. Following intensive discussion, a Meeting of the O5 council was convened. The initial proposal failed with a vote of 3-8-2. Dr. Sherry Andrews offered a modified proposal, which then passed with a 6-5-2 majority.

Diplomatic Report D-8710-02

Date: ██/██/████

Locations: Kutha, Iraq

Participants: Dr. Emily Kurr AKA SCP-8710-01 (reclassified to SCP-8710), Unknown Beast of Nature 'Abigail' (E-8710-02), Unknown Beast of Nature 'Aleah' (E-8710-03), O5-01-03 Dr. Sherry Andrews, Omega-12 ("Achilles Heels") and MTF Psi-8 ("The Silencers").

Foreword: Following meeting of the O5 council, and political lobbying, Dr. Andrews returned to Kutha to present a modified proposal to SCP-8710 and the two additional Beasts of Nature.

<Begin Log>

Dr. Andrews walks into the negotiation chamber with her accompanying retinue. SCP-8710-01 through -03 look up from the various positions in which they are seated upon the couches. She sits in place, picking up a plate of food and a cup full of wine.

SCP-8710-01: "Welcome back Dr. Andrews. We began to believe you would not return."

Dr. Andrews: "It's been an annoyingly long week. I'm not going to beat around the bush, the council did not like your proposal."

E-8710-02 holds out a hand, and a very bright shaft of light forms in the obscured hand, as a noticeable blue-green fog begins to seep across the floors.

SCP-8710-01,-02,-03 in unison: "We see."

Omega-12 and Psi-8 tense.

Dr. Andrews holds up a hand.

Dr. Andrews: "So I made a modified proposal."

SCP-8710-01: "Those were not the ter—"

E-8710-02: "Hush Emily, compromise is part of the game."

Dr. Andrews: "It sure fucking is."

E-8710-03: "Please continue."

Dr. Andrews: "The Foundation will withdraw all surveillance resources from within Valencia… and Ibiza. You will have sole dominion over those areas, and we'll be declaring them free ports for anomalous individuals to live untouched. We will establish monitoring stations outside the bounds of your influence in the event of spillover. This will be the status quo as long as you do as you've offered in filtering any anomalous material off platforms that could leak to the outside world."

E-8710-02: "I think that's acceptable, but I have a feeling you're not done."

Dr. Andrews: "Correct."

Dr. Andrews crosses one leg over the other and has a sip of water from a canteen.

Dr. Andrews: "In addition to this, Dr. Sarkis will not be reinstated in her former position. Instead, she will be moved to my office, and serve as direct liaison between you, and any other surprise Beasts of Nature that happen to pop up, facilitating communication to me directly."

SCP-8710-01 shifts in place.

SCP-8710-01: "These were not the terms but are an acceptable alternative."

Dr. Andrews: "Good. Any further communication will be conducted under the confines of OPERATION HIGH TIDE. Additionally, while you initially offered information on the location of materials relevant to the Finnfolk, the council felt this was insufficient on its own to counterbalance the benefits you gain. We wish to gather some more information relevant to an operation occurring with an undercover member of the Serpent's hand who is planning to defect."

E-8710-02 leans forward.

E-8710-02: "We have nothing to do with the Hand."

Dr. Andrews: "But you do know about other mythological beings."

SCP-8710-01: "We do, but what is the relevance?"

Dr. Andrews: "Two upcoming operations, with the latter one we believe being of interest to you."

E-8710-03: "You're being cryptic."

SCP-8710-01: "I am enjoying this, please finish."

Dr. Andrews: "What do you know about Atalanta?"

Dr. Andrews turns to the MTF operator handling the camera and makes a motion across her neck with her hand. The camera cuts off.

<End Recorded Log>

Postword: Following the second diplomatic meeting, an official cooperative agreement was organized and signed recognizing Valencia and Ibiza as free ports for anomalous individuals. Foundation resources monitoring these locations were withdrawn and SCP-8710's documentation has been flagged for significant updates to reflect identification of the source of the anomaly, and the current hands-off containment protocols being enforced.

Foundation agents have been implanted within the Horizon Initiative and upper echelons of the Catholic Church in an attempt to identify the source of deific interference detected in Incident Logs 1-3.

Further inquiries should be addressed to O5-01's office at this time.

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