Beckon us home oh Light on the water, Fomorian tomb.

3/9714 LEVEL 3/9714

CLASSIFIED

Item #: SCP-9714

Keter

SCP-9714 on 6/23/1989, near Cape Aniva, Sakhalin Oblast

Special Containment Procedures: Due to the sporadic nature of SCP-9714 materializations, permanent physical containment of SCP-9714 is impossible. Monitoring Stations 23-RA and 64-US are to dedicate allocatable resources towards detecting global and/or localized electromagnetic distortions and elevated gravitational abnormalities. MTF Epsilon-7 ("Pendulum Pushers"), alongside Site-89's Department of Statistical Prediction, is tasked with surveying data provided by the previously mentioned monitoring stations and predicting possible SCP-9714 manifestations.

In the event of an identified SCP-9714 materialization, a standard on-site containment perimeter is to be immediately established with KIP emitters and spatial dampeners surrounding SCP-9714 at intervals of 7m. See Document 9714-CS-45 for an updated list of approved cover stories by region.

Should SCP-9714 directly materialize within any major population center or in a region with a population density greater than 300 persons/km2, Code Broadway amnestic and media manipulation procedures are to be enacted until SCP-9714's dematerialization.

Description: SCP-9714 is a lighthouse. Its construction consists of a circular concrete tower standing at 31.2m, topped by a light room with Fresnel lens and painted in horizontal black and white bands. Attached to SCP-9714's base is a nine-story building presumedly designed to house lighthouse operators or other appropriate personnel.

SCP-9714 is capable of autonomous relocation, vanishing from one position and subsequentially reappearing in another at seemingly random intervals. Materializations can occur months or years apart with SCP-9714 vanishing to unknown locations. The process behind its transportation is currently unknown. However, intense localized surges of electromagnetic radiation are measured whenever SCP-9714 materializes in a location, as well as minor gravitational disruptions.

SCP-9714 can theoretically materialize in any given location, either on Earth's surface or in interplanetary space. Since its discovery, SCP-9714 materializations have been recorded in at least 147 separate locations. Historical evidence alludes to an indeterminate number of positions prior to discovery. Given the scope of its anomalous properties, it is unclear whether SCP-9714 directly relocates to another location following a dematerialization or if it enters a separate space outside of reality.

Discovery: On 2/17/1986, SCP-9714 manifested within Site-███, materializing along the site's security perimeter. SCP-9714 remained at this location for 2 months and 11 days before dematerializing, reappearing 4 months later near Daisetsuzan National Park, Hokkaido. Two casualties were reported following a temporary containment breach of SCP-████ directly caused by SCP-9714's disruption.

Supplemental Materials:

Following its discovery, historical documentation of SCP-9714 and other related records have since been retroactively compiled. Compilation is ongoing.

County Meath, IE - 1985
Luna - 1976
Waco, TX - 1947
Culverin - 1765

On June 14th, 1985, a previously undiscovered section of the Brú na Bóinne monument complex was unearthed by anthropology students visiting from Trinity College Dublin. This section consisted of a pair of passage tombs branching from the dominating Knowth structure, as well as a separate cruciform chamber. An archaeological operation, funded by the college, was swiftly approved. During this operation, artifacts and pieces of megalithic art displaying anomalous properties were unearthed and soon brought to the Foundation’s attention.

The following is a partial catalogue of relevant objects recovered by on-site Foundation investigators and archeologists. See Document 9714-Trinity-7B for the complete list.

SCP-9714-BB-1

Object Designation: SCP-9714-BB-1

Description: A depiction of a horse carved into stone. Originally inlaid within an overhead sill stone.

Anomalous Properties: Any person making physical contact with SCP-9714-BB-1 for an extended period experiences a visual hallucination of being in a large empty field of burnt flowers. Subjects describe the field extending in all directions amidst a featureless horizon. After approximately 7 minutes of contact, a towering structure identified as SCP-9714 materializes nearby, unleashing a stampeding herd of horses towards the subject’s position. These horses trample the subject until physical contact with SCP-9714-BB-1 ceases. The hallucination lacks any tactile elements, but affected subjects have been shown to suffer injuries consistent with the hallucination following continued exposure.

Object Designation: SCP-9714-BB-4

Description: Molluscan shell ornaments (bivalves and gastropods). Some are strung together into necklaces and headpieces.

Anomalous Properties: Upon wearing or incorporating the ornaments into clothing, the wearer will begin to experience acute anemia and photophobia over a 7-hour period. These symptoms appear gradually and have yet to be documented causing permanent bodily harm. The affected wearer will also develop a severe irrational fear of bright light akin to heliophobia, suffering nausea, irregular heartbeat, and panic attacks around concentrated beams of light in particular. These conditions can last up to two weeks after removing SCP-9714-BB-4.

Object Designation: SCP-9714-BB-5

Description: Jadeitite axehead. A punctured hole through the tip.

Anomalous Properties: When left idle, the phrase "Fothaíonn an solas," written in Ogham letters, is anomalously carved into any given surface within a 0.3m proximity to the axehead. The phrase will repeat itself until the entire surface is inscribed, only ceasing with SCP-9714-BB-5's removal. There seems to be no restriction to the type of surface affected: wood, stone, metal, and flesh.

SCP-9714-BB-7

Object Designation: SCP-9714-BB-7

Description: Megalithic art. Serpentiform and spiral motifs, depicting a possible central obelisk or tower with a hole at its precipice.

Anomalous Properties: Any person directly observing SCP-9714-BB-7 over a period exceeding 14 minutes will suffer impulses to draw blood from their wrists. These impulses gradually increase in severity with affected observers resorting to the use of their teeth or fingernails should no other method be present. Upon inflicting a sufficient wound, the observer will attempt to trace the motifs on SCP-9714-BB-7 with their blood.

During this period, the observer will experience a full hallucination involving all sensory inputs, including tactile and emotional elements. Affected observers perceive themselves at the foot of a spiral staircase inside SCP-9714. The staircase is comprised of silver tree branches and budding golden apples. Climbing this staircase, the observer enters SCP-9714's light room, wherein their surrounding environment floods into a vast black sea. The observer experiences the sensation of drowning, reporting symptoms similar to acute respiratory distress syndrome and hypothermia, as they are submerged beneath the water. Swarms of hands have been described as pulling the observer down. Before complete submersion, the observer sees a golden boat autonomously drifting over the water with an obscured figure at its helm.

The hallucination ends upon the affected observer either completing their outline of SCP-9714-BB-7, being forcibly removed from SCP-9714-BB-7’s proximity, or suffering hypovolemic shock.

Mare Crisium (11.1° N, 59.7° E)

On August 9th, 1976, at 15:04:12 UTC, Luna 24, the 24th probe of the Luna programme, launched from Baikonur 81/23 on the third Soviet mission to return lunar soil samples from the Moon. The probe, based on the Ye-8-5 spacecraft body, entered lunar orbit on August 14th, and its lander reached the volcanic plains of Mare Crisium on August 18th at 06:36 UTC. The mission lasted 12 days, 14 hours and 51 minutes, returning with 170.1g of lunar samples on August 22nd.

Luna 24 was on the lunar surface for roughly 23 hours. At 17:27 UTC, August 18th, the lander's radiation detector registered an abnormal level of surface radiation originating west by southwest of its position. This elevated radiation was mapped as a reflection from an object foreign to the lunar surface. The orbital's stereo photographic imaging system, in tandem with the lander, automatically captured images of this radiation's estimated origin.

A structure, now identified as SCP-9714, was pictured, albeit minimally. No photos following the Luna 24 mission have since revealed SCP-9714's continued lunar presence. All images pertaining to SCP-9714 have since been archived by the Foundation. See Document 9714-Crisium-4C for the complete image registry.

Among the returned samples, water and organic material was detected. Closer examination revealed 0.5% human bone tissue by mass, as revealed in infrared absorption spectroscopy.

In the early hours of September 16th, 1947, the body of Suzanne Abernathy was discovered in Cameron Park, off of Lawson Point Dr, by the park’s groundskeeper. The body displayed polytrauma consistent with a fall from height, including significant calcaneal fractures, fractures of the neck and femur, and spinal cord injuries. The coroner’s report suggested the injuries required a fall from a height of 25m or greater, but no such elevation was present in Cameron Park.

Following a full police inquiry, no foul play was discovered. Abernathy’s death was ruled a suicide, citing her history of "mental instability."

The following is a report of Abernathy’s psychological assessment. Prior to her death, Abernathy had been a registered patient at the local Oceans Behavioral Hospital. Irrelevant sections have been excluded.

ASSESSMENT METHODS:

> Clinical Interview: An interview was conducted with Suzanne to gather domestic, medical, and behavioral histories.

> Behavioral Observations: Observations were made during the clinical interview.

OBSERVATIONS:
During the interview, Suzanne appeared somewhat disengaged and distracted, making minimal eye contact. She was initially reluctant to discuss her recently intensifying migraines. Prior prescription seems to have had little effect. Through further questioning, Suzanne revealed she has been experiencing recurring nightmares and night terrors, as well as a general anxiety towards leaving the house. When asked about this recurring dream, Suzanne described it in detail: she is standing on a golden boat, sailing autonomously. A lighthouse stands in the distance on a vast black sea. She walks the boat, and a large man with many legs appears from the deck, grabbing and tearing off her extremities. The nightmare ends with this man consuming her. The nightmare's imagery, particularly of the cannibalistic man, might suggest repressed emotional trauma, possibly domestic or marital. Suzanne refused to further elaborate on the dream or its possible causes any further.

DIAGNOSES:

> Primary Diagnosis: Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Agoraphobia

> Rule Out: Major Depression Disorder

"█████ Lighthouse" by █████ ███████, circa 1767

On March 4th, 1765, the French mercantile ship Culverin left the St. Domingue colony for France. Its cargo consisted of luxury goods including sugar, spices, and rum. Five months later, on August 7th, the ship arrived at the port of Bayonne. Its cargo was relatively intact, but of its initial crew of 44 men, at least 7 members were missing and unaccounted for. The exact number is still unknown. Considering its late arrival by two months, the Culverin was originally thought lost at sea before its reappearance, and upon its return was immediately decommissioned and scrapped for lumber and other construction materials. Many of the ship's official records, including captain's logs, detailed cargo and crew manifests, and trade ledgers, were either lost or destroyed during its decommission.

Following the audit and liquidation of SRS Trading in 1990, a cache of previously unlisted records and artifacts, including records regarding the Culverin, was rediscovered and brought to the attention of Foundation investigators. Among these records, the personal log of Jean-Marc De Verley, the Culverin's second officer, was recovered and translated. Irrelevant entries have been excluded.

Tuesday, 9th April

Last night's storm has left a few of the men rattled and unsettled. Two poor souls were lost overboard as those final waves engulfed the deck, presumed drowned. They were able seamen, I believe. Leroux and that young Dutch man. May God bless them.

Among the remaining crew, several have raised concerns over our continued voyage. Rather than reaching our destination and getting properly compensated for their work, they want us to go back to St. Domingue. Nonsensical superstition. [The other officers and I] can only explain so many times that the ship is already halfway across the Atlantic. Turning back would be pointless. It is the same distance to port no matter the direction we take. Not that our answers satisfy them, but for the moment, they remain loyal and compliant.

We're to hold a service later this evening for the men lost. It feels unnecessary. We all know what this job entails. But I understand the reason for it. Perhaps with this incident put to bed, the crew will cast their paranoia aside and we can get on with our duties, God willing.

Friday, 25th April

We have made a discovery. I look out my cabin window and see something that puzzles me, as I'm sure it bewilders the rest of the crew.

In the early hours of the morning, with the sun yet to crest over the sea, our helmsman, LeBeau, raised all Hell and its devils to wake the crew entire. I still hear his words: "A light! A light! The most unnatural light on the horizon!" I imagine we would have thought him mad if we could not see it with our own eyes. A beam of light, spinning in place, jutting from the distant water. The captain assumed it a signal of distress at first. Perhaps another ship calling out. We diverted our course to meet it.

Dawn turned to day, we grew closer, and the light's source was not a ship. It is a tall tower of a most peculiar construction, standing out on a rocky atoll that isn't present in any of our maps. A chamber of gilded glass and metal sits atop it, the light beaming brightly from within. And instead of masonry or even timber, the whole tower and the extension at its base is made of strange stone almost smooth to the touch. I know very little of such matters, but it doesn't seem a thing built up or put together. More like the stone was already there, and the rest was built into it.

I can only presume it to be a lighthouse, but it is unlike any I have seen and in a place it shouldn't be. We are in the midst of an ocean, the deep beneath us, vast and briny. There is no land here. No port to be guided into nor any shallows to avoid. Why is it here? Who built such a thing, and how?

Some of the men and officers, the captain and I included, went over to search it. It is even more peculiar up close, but we found nothing. All the rooms were empty and the light at the top could not be reached. The tower itself had no entrance. Only solid walls. If anyone had been there, all traces of them were gone. The way the others looked at us as we returned tell me they do not entirely believe our claims. I don't blame them, but I don't know how to convince them either. We're all in the dark.

I feel an unease as the tower's shadow drifts over the ship. We continue our course to La Rochelle in a few hours' time. Perhaps the company will send someone else to this place once we arrive.

Sunday, 27th April

Blessed be the Lord's Day, though trouble seems to be brewing amongst us sinners.

There are mumblings spreading through the crew. Superstition is breeding like mayflies. Rumors of our voyage being cursed and other ramblings. Sensible men would strive for clarity, but that lighthouse spooked us all. I fear there aren't too many sensible men on this ship.

I've raised my concerns with the captain, advocating for swift action. If we don't smother this in the crib, it will grow like a cancer. But he is dead set upon a more liberal approach. "Only a month out from La Rochelle," he says. "Let progress and the route's conclusion ease their minds." Of course, I think it a mistake. I only hope that I'm wrong.

Monday, 28th April

I do not understand it. Dubois is adamant that our course has not shifted these last few days. That the ship has moved in a singular, straight direction. He has even proved it with his instruments and star charts; there is no denying.

Why then is the lighthouse, at this very moment, off our port bow?

It is the same tower; I am sure of it. The same spinning light, the same smooth stone, the same empty rooms. Even the mound of rock it stands upon is the same. But how? Perhaps we are truly lost, going circles, or perhaps there is simply more than one out here.

I do not know what to think. What theory to grasp. For now, I only want off this God forsaken ship.

As expected, the crew is frantic. They're demanding answers, and the captain cannot seem to come up with one good enough. That superstitious talk is running rampant now. The lighthouse's reappearance unnerves me like everyone else, but omens? Curses? Do these men even hear themselves? I fear what they might do with their minds absent of sense.

For now, the captain has ordered we stay put. Perhaps it is the right decision, but it feels ill-advised. The men are scared enough of the tower as it is. Staying could only agitate them further. But I do agree we need a moment of respite. If only to think of what to do next.

The lighthouse's shadow is trailing over the ship again, crossing over my cabin. The world seems darker beneath it.

Tuesday, 29th April

A man drowned himself today. The carpenter. Broke into the hold and drank up as much rum as he could swallow, then threw himself from the deck. It wouldn't surprise me if he were dead before he hit the water, sick with death as he was. God rest his soul.

We've reached a breaking point. [The bosun] and some men at his back are making demands. The drowning has only set them off like a fuse. The other officers and I have gathered ourselves in the captain's quarters, discussing what must be done. I can tell they're scared, just as the sailors are. They flinch each time the tower's light flashes through the windows.

I'm not sure what we shall decide. Giving into the crew's demands is foolish. It will only give them a taste of comfort, and they'll simply demand more. If I did not know better, I would thi—

[The rest of the entry is blank.]

Saturday

It feels pointless to write now. I only have my journal due its concealment in the one pocket they didn't empty.

The captain is dead. A bayonet through his ribs. A mutiny of the most violent kind, God damn them.

They forced the rest of us off the ship and into the lighthouse. Barricaded us in. Most of the officers are here. Dubois, Dr. Gaudin, Peltier, and a few cabin boys and sailors that refused to bend the knee. But we aren't deserted. The traitors haven't left. We can hear them arguing outside. "Cut their throats and be done with it." "We can't leave. The tower will follow us." "Our grave has come to meet us."

It's complete lunacy. I doubt they even understand what they are doing. Either way, we're trapped, gawking at each other like hapless lambs. Dr. Gaudin and Dubois are attempting action, searching the lighthouse for anything of use, but there's nothing to find. There's no way out either. Only one door, and all the windows are too small for a man to fit through.

Pointless. I hate the thought of it, but we're at their mercy. Stuck in this unnerving, unnatural place. It may soon be our tomb.

Sunday

Blessed be the Lord's day. May His retribution be swift.

They still haven't left. I can see the ship through one of the windows. I think they're going to starve us out. Perhaps to break us. Have us begging and willing. Damn them to Hell.

I hear the others huddled together, hunger tainting their whispers. "Why aren't they leaving?" "What are they going to do with us?" "It feels as if the walls are closing in." They're already starting to bend. Soon they'll be banging their fists against the door in desperation, begging to be let free. Cowards.

I would do well to remind them of their dignity, but something gives me pause. Something I cannot fully describe.

I feel it even now, sitting against the wall. Something stirs within this tower's foundations. A hum. A swaying rhythm bouncing up through the floor. The building doesn't feel grounded in place. As if it could rise up and float away.

God help me, I must be mad too.

Morning

I have not told the others, but we are not alone in here.

It happened in the night, while the others slept, huddled in the entrance corridor. I do not know how they could, hunger tying our stomachs into knots. But even awake, I barely noticed it.

In the far corner of the room, where not even moonlight shone through, there were eyes in the dark, wreathed in shadow with a devil’s shine. Tens of them, atop one another, each belonging to a different face. I could not discern much, but shimmering golden ornaments adorned these faces. These glowing eyes. Swirling snakes and fork-tongued drakes, ram horns and apple blossoms.

They were watching us, waiting. And I watched them, still as I could be. I could hear their whispers in my head, humming through the floor. Unanswered prayers, forgotten curses. And when the sun came, they slunk back into the walls, vanishing from sight.

They wanted us here. They drew us in. But for what? Should I keep this to myself?

Evening

The blood is caked under my nails like dirt.

Those traitors burst in and tried to slaughter us. Puffs of rifle smoke clouded the air. Men's screams slashed short by sabers and bayonets. One of them came upon me as well, wrestling me to the floor and pressing the edge of a bayonet against my stomach. I do not know how I mustered the strength, but I threw him off me and pummeled his face. And when he tried to get up after me, I stole that bayonet and gutted him with it. He puked up viscera, coughing all over me.

A door hidden in the wall broke open amidst the scuffle. A door we never saw. Where the eyes had been. I ran in and closed it behind me, blocking it shut with the bloody bayonet. It led into the tower. To a staircase of iron spiraling upwards into the glass room above. I am there now, hiding. Bathed in the light of a strange spinning machine.

It hums with the deep rhythm I heard before, fogging the glass like a man's breath.

The sounds of murder and men gone mad have since abated, but I am afraid to leave. In this room, in this light, I feel safe.

Morning?

The ship has vanished. The sea has vanished. I don't know where I am.

There is a pit benea— [Illegible]

[Illegible] —rave has come to meet us." Those words ring in my head. What did they see that I didn't?

Stay in the light. I am safe in the light of God Almighty.

[Illegible date]

God forgi— [Illegible]

[Illegible] —ung up by their feet. It feeds on ou— [Illegible]

Remaining records suggest De Verley was amongst the unaccounted members of the Culverin's crew, and that his personal log was originally recovered by the ship's navigator, Henri Dubois.

Addendum 9714-1: As of 11/7/1990, testing and expeditions involving SCP-9714 have been approved. Any and all testing requires Site-89 Spatial Disruptions Division clearance or direct approval from Level 4 senior personnel.

Test

Date & Location

Notes

9714-01-01

11/14/1990 (Qeqertat, GL) - 3/21/1991 (Sen Lan Gramonas, HM)

Test to examine materialization process. A standard Baylor-4 probe, retrofitted with a radial photographic system, radiation detector, GPS tracker, and extended signal mast receiver, is remotely maneuvered into SCP-9714 at 12:47 UTC. The probe is preprogrammed to autonomously explore and record its environment within SCP-9714, ceasing operation until recovery or 2 months have elapsed. Connection is lost upon SCP-9714 dematerialization. 4 months later, Baylor-4 is recovered in Sen Lan Gramonas. General examination of the probe’s footage reveals SCP-9714’s interior remains stagnant during relocation with no structural changes observed. However, Baylor-4 managed glimpses of the environment outside of SCP-9714, recording an unknown landscape possibly alien to Earth.

9714-01-02

3/22/1991 (Sen Lan Gramonas, HM) - 5/30/1991 (S Khmylovka, RA)

Test to examine materialization process, revised. A standard Baylor-4 probe, retrofitted with prior measuring equipment, is remotely maneuvered into SCP-9714 at 10:58 UTC. The probe is preprogrammed to autonomously explore and record its environment, as well as to attempt an exploration of SCP-9714’s exterior during relocation. Connection is lost upon SCP-9714 dematerialization. 2 months later, Baylor-4 is not found during SCP-9714's manifestation. Instead, the probe's locator signal is recorded off planet, detected somewhere in the Lunar Mare Nectaris. Baylor-4 is yet to be recovered.

[-] RUNNING CREDENTIALS…

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING FILE IS LEVEL 4/9714 CLASSIFIED

ANY ATTEMPT TO ACCESS THIS FILE WITHOUT LEVEL 4/9714 AUTHORIZATION WILL BE LOGGED AND WILL LEAD TO IMMEDIATE DISCIPLINARY ACTION.

On 7/10/1991, D-Class personnel testing involving SCP-9714 was approved. New expedition guidelines incentivized closer examination of SCP-9714's relocation process, namely the possible existence of an extradimensional pocket space. Following SCP-9714's materialization in Roskeeragh Point, Mullaghmore, IE, on 7/14/1991, Test 9714-01-03 commenced posthaste.

The following is a video log transcript of recovered footage from Test-9714-01-03, recorded roughly over a two-month period. Irrelevant footage has been excluded.

Test 9714-01-03 Video Log Transcript

Initial Date: July 14, 1991 13:06

Testing Equipment:

Two (2) chest-mounted cameras

Two (2) implanted GPS trackers

One (1) radiation detector

Two (2) backpacks with standard survival gear

Two (2) bedrolls

Four (4) month ration and water supply

D-Class Personnel:

D-7485-OW: Oisín Winslow (involuntary manslaughter)

D-0291-CH: Courtney Harper (conspiracy, narcotrafficking)

<BEGIN LOG>

0291-CH: So, what? We just wait here? Do they really expect us to just stand around all day? It's been hours.

7485-OW: Wait and observe.

0291-CH: Observe what? This whole building's empty. There's nothing here.

[7485-OW does not respond.]

0291-CH: Yeah, okay. I get it. Fuck me, I guess.

7485-OW: You really think I know? You think those labcoats have told me anything? Don't be an idiot.

0291-CH: No, I don't. I don't think you know jack shit. Just my luck, getting paired up with an absolute pr—

[A loud bell sound interrupts 0291-CH, followed by an intense tremor that knocks both subjects to the floor. SCP-9714 in its entirety seems to rumble and shift, kicking up dust and dirt. However, no structural damage occurs. Over time, the tremor gradually subsides until SCP-9714 is once again still. Both subjects stare at each other, visibly distressed and confused.]

0291-CH: What just happened?

[Skipping irrelevant footage.]

7485-OW: It's… water. I think.

0291-CH: But it's black as oil. Jesus, where the hell are we?

[Both 7485-OW and 0291-CH crowd the entryway into SCP-9714. The exterior space is no longer Roskeeragh Point. Instead, a still-water sea extends in all directions, stopping short at SCP-9714's foundations. The horizon is featureless with the black water blending into a dark-hued sky, dotted with unknown stars and constellations.]

7485-OW: It’s so quiet. There’s no wind or anything.

0291-CH: How does a whole building just up and move?

7485-OW: I'm pretty sure that's what we're supposed to figure out.

[0291-CH looks up, revealing the only prominent light source present is the lamp atop SCP-9714.]

0291-CH: Well, if they're looking for us, at least we're easy to spot.

[7485-OW doesn't respond, preoccupied as he gently dips his hand into the black water. It flows over his skin with little cohesion, gliding right off.]

0291-CH: I guess we should look around the place. See if anything else has changed.

7485-OW: Yeah, we probably should.

[Skipping irrelevant footage.]

[Both subjects are in one of SCP-9714's empty rooms, unpacking their Foundation-supplied backpacks and unrolling their bedrolls.]

0291-CH: So what did you do?

7485-OW: What?

0291-CH: What did you do? You know. What got you in the orange jumpsuit?

7485-OW: Oh. You know it’s taboo around the 89 block to ask about that sort of thing.

0291-CH: We’re not exactly at the Site though, are we?

[7485-OW does not immediately respond, focusing on his backpack.]

7485-OW: I… Manslaughter.

0291-CH: Damn, really? You killed a guy?

7485-OW: I’m not going to talk about it.

0291-CH: Alright, I won’t pry. Was just being curious.

7485-OW: What about you?

0291-CH: Me? Drug trafficking. They claimed I was part of a big morphine and narcotic distribution ring up in Chicago.

7485-OW: Claimed? You’re saying you didn’t do it?

0291-CH: Well, I ain't confessing to shit while I've got a literal camera on my chest.

[7485-OW laughs.]

7485-OW: Then why did you even bring this stuff up?

0291-CH: Just trying to start a conversation.

7485-OW: Poor subject choice then.

0291-CH: I will say I’m surprised they didn't convict on the money laundering charges.

7485-OW: You laundered money?

[0291-CH leans his head closer to the camera, speaking into it directly.]

0291-CH: Hell. No. Still surprised though.

[Both subjects briefly go quiet, focusing on their task.]

0291-CH: They're coming for us. We're not stuck here. Right?

[7485-OW looks up and opens his mouth to say something but ultimately does not respond.]

[Skipping irrelevant footage.]

[Both subjects are sleeping in their respective bedrolls. The room is silent. 0291-CH adjusts in his sleep, shifting the camera view towards the room's open doorway. In the hall beyond, a brief shadow is captured, moving out of view. The shadow's shape is unable to be determined. 2 minutes later, a very faint, distant chiming sound is heard.]

[Skipping irrelevant footage.]

[7485-OW is cupping his ear against a wall, listening intently.]

7485-OW: Do you really not hear that?

[0291-CH is leaning against the same wall. A low rhythmic hum, barely distinguishable from the ambience, rattles through SCP-9714.]

0291-CH: Wait… A little, yeah. What is that?

7485-OW: I don't know. I noticed it last night. It's stronger towards where the tower is.

0291-CH: No way to get to the tower…

7485-OW: It's kind of comforting.

0291-CH: It's fucking unsettling is what it is. This place is weird enough without white noise shit coming through the walls.

[7485-OW shoots 0291-CH a glare but says nothing.]

[Skipping irrelevant footage.]

[0291-CH is looking through a window on SCP-9714's second floor. 7485-OW can be seen outside SCP-9714's entrance, standing knee-deep in the surrounding black water sea. He is staring towards the direction of the light room atop SCP-9714's tower. 0291-CH watches silently for 7 minutes before eventually walking away.]

[Skipping irrelevant footage.]

[Both subjects are eating rations. 0291-CH is watching 7485-OW. 7485-OW is eating very slowly, often examining and flexing his hands.]

0291-CH: Do you think we’re alone?

7485-OW: What?

0291-CH: Do you think we’re alone here?

[7485-OW hesitates.]

7485-OW: Yes. I think we’re alone.

0291-CH: No you don't.

7485-OW: Excus—

0291-CH: What's so interesting in the lamp room? See someone up there?

7485-OW: I don't know what you're talking about.

0291-CH: I'm not an idiot. They told you something, didn't they? Before we got here. You know what we're supposed to be looking for.

7485-OW: No one has told me anything.

0291-CH: You're… lying to me.

7485-OW: Why the fuck would I be lying to you?

0291-CH: They're watching us, aren't they? Are you in on it?

[7485-OW stares in silence before abruptly standing up, tossing his half-eaten ration to the floor and leaving the room altogether.]

0291-CH: Winslow… Winslow!

[7485-OW does not respond.]

[Skipping irrelevant footage.]

[7485-OW begins to scream without warning, waking 0291-CH.]

0291-CH: Agh! What?! What's happening?!

7485-OW: The light! It's—the man in the boat! It's— it's…

0291-CH: Winslow! What the fuck?

7485-OW: I… I was… I'm sorry. I was dreaming.

0291-CH: Shit, man. What is wrong with you?

[7485-OW, now sitting against the wall, doesn't immediately respond.]

7485-OW: I don't think we're going home.

[Skipping irrelevant footage.]

[0291-CH is wandering SCP-9714 alone. His ear is close to the wall.]

0291-CH: Courtney, damn it, what are you looking for? You stupid asshole. You tool. Volunteer, they said. Knock some time off your sentence, they said. God, why is it so bright in here?

[0291-CH continues to speak to himself as he traverses SCP-9714. The faint low humming in walls gradually becomes more noticeable.]

0291-CH: It's here. It's got to be here. There's got to be something I'm supposed to find. You fuckers wanted us to find something. Why put us in concrete coffin to bumfuck nowhere? Tell me what I'm supposed to find. Just tell me. Please, please just tel—

[0291-CH is cut short as he trips to the floor. He tumbles down hard, grunting in pain. Looking back, his foot is caught on a bent floorboard, awkwardly angled against the base of the wall.]

[Once recuperated, 0291-CH crawls over to this floorboard and feels around it, testing its strength. It slides in place easily. Carefully, he pulls the floorboard away from the wall, opening a gap. Hidden in the floor is a simple iron lockbox with a handle over the lid. 0291-CH slightly hesitates before lifting the box out from the gap.]

[0291-CH silently examines the lockbox, feeling its edges, before undoing the latch. The lockbox is filled with white molluscan shells. Cradled within these shells is a small golden apple. 0291-CH plucks the apple and examines it. Crudely carved into the apple are outlines of Earth’s landmasses, forming a makeshift globe, as well as a single word in Ogham letters: Goidte.]

[Without another word, 0291-CH hides the apple away into his jumpsuit pocket.]

[Skipping irrelevant footage.]

7485-OW: They're not coming for us, Courtney. They don't even know where we are.

0291-CH: Don't say that. You don't know that.

7485-OW: They can't get to us. We're somewhere they can't get to.

0291-CH: They can, Winslow. They can. They have to. They need our cameras. They— they need to see what we've seen.

7485-OW: We're in a tomb. We're in a tomb at the bottom of the world and we're not getting out!

0291-CH: Why would they send us in here? For what? They don't get anything if they don't find us!

7485-OW: They don't have to! We don't come back and that's that. We're a fucking tax write-off!

0291-CH: We're going to be found. We're getting home. They know we're here. They've been watching us.

7485-OW: They gave us enough food to last for months! They don't know where we are!

[0291-CH grabs the radiation detector sitting beside his bedroll and hurls it at 7485-OW. It barely misses, smashing against a wall.]

0291-CH: You don't know, damn it! You don't—

[0291-CH’s exclamations sputter short, stunned into silence. 7485-OW follows 0291-CH’s gaze. The wall has cracked where the radiation detector impacted. A dark red fluid, akin to blood or sap, is slowly seeping through the cracks.]

[Skipping irrelevant footage.]

[Both subjects are erratically yelling at each other, stomping and circling around the room. Their shouts are incoherent and angry. This continues for 12 minutes.]

[Skipping irrelevant footage.]

[0291-CH is sleeping in his bedroll. 7485-OW is not. Instead, he is sitting up with his back against the wall, watching 0291-CH sleep. He appears to be whispering to himself, but his words are indiscernible. After 20 minutes, something unheard seems to draw 7485-OW’s attention. He silently stands up from the wall and exits the room. 3 minutes later, a creaking sound like an opening door is heard.]

[Skipping irrelevant footage.]

[0291-CH wanders SCP-9714, searching the rooms. 7485-OW is absent.]

0291-CH: Winslow? Fuck man, where’d you go?

[Each floor is empty, and 7485-OW is nowhere to be found. As time goes on, 0291-CH begins to search more frantically, shouting from room to room, running through SCP-9714’s empty spaces, until eventually reaching the ground floor once again.]

0291-CH: God damn it! Winslow?! Stop fucking with me man!

[0291-CH reaches SCP-9714’s entrance corridor. Like all the other rooms, it is seemingly empty, barren of any notable detail. He goes to shout again, but something catches his attention. In the wall on the far side, there is a previously undiscovered door. It is constructed to blend seamlessly into the wall, unable to be noticed while closed, but it is now open, revealing a short hallway.]

[0291-CH hesitates, glancing towards SCP-9714’s entrance, but he eventually goes through the open door. The hallway beyond snakes forward and opens up towards a small archway, leading to SCP-9714’s tower. 0291-CH approaches this archway and enters the tower proper.]

0291-CH: Okay…

[Inside the tower, a cast iron staircase spirals upwards along the walls, presumably towards the light room above. Flickers of light beam over the cracks in the ceiling, and the walls are blank and featureless. And dangling in the center of the space, high off the ground, a mummified corpse is strung by its feet from a rope. It appears to be a man, dressed in tattered naval clothes. Its flesh is black and taut, and budding flowers are placed where its eyes should be.]

0291-CH: Winslow?

7485-OW: [distant, barely audible] —ere.

[0291-CH proceeds to climb the spiral staircase. As he climbs, he watches the hanging corpse, refusing to look away from it, until reaching the top. The staircase ends at a small metal platform, presumably the service platform. Rotating optics and vents clutter the space, as well as pipes that seem to lead to a fuel tank powering the machinery. One of the pipes appears loose. A ladder to the side leads up to a hatch in the ceiling. Carefully, 0291-CH mounts the ladder and opens the hatch.]

[The hatch opens into the light room. The room is small and bright with the lamp shining in the center, shielding a rotating bulb beaming through the Fresnel lens and the outer storm panes. The lamp hums with a distinct rhythm, deep and rumbling. Standing off the central pedestal, staring into the lamp and bathed in its light, is 7485-OW.]

7485-OW: I'm up here.

0291-CH: Jesus! What the fuck? Did you not hear me running through the whole place?

[0291-CH goes to fully enter the room but hesitates. In 7485-OW's offhand, he is holding a weapon. A sort of bayonet, its blade rusted brown with dried blood. 7485-OW notices 0291-CH's hesitation and chuckles.]

7485-OW: This? It was blocking the door downstairs. Must've come loose.

0291-CH: Yeah?

7485-OW: Makes you think what must've happened to the guy who put it there.

[0291-CH does not immediately respond.]

0291-CH: I'm thinking the stiff hanging from the ceiling downstairs paints a good enough picture. How long have you been up here?

7485-OW: For a while. Needed a place to think. The light just feels safe, doesn't it?

0291-CH: Yeah. Sure… Safe from what?

7485-OW: There's a pit beneath the water.

0291-CH: What?

[7485-OW does not respond.]

0291-CH: Okay… I'm just gonna… You stay up here for a bit.

[0291-CH closes the hatch and climbs back down to the service room, leaving 7485-OW alone above. He stands still briefly, staring at the ceiling.]

0291-CH: Fuck me…

[Skipping irrelevant footage.]

[0291-CH is crouched by a wall, moving the golden apple between his fingers. He is intently watching the doorway. 7485-OW can be faintly heard talking in another room. His words are indiscernible, but a separate voice can be heard. The two are conversing.]

[Skipping irrelevant footage]

[0291-CH detaches his chest-mounted camera and begins to address it directly.]

0291-CH: I don’t know if you are listening. Damn it, you better be listening. You need to get me out of here. I am in danger, and if there’s one thing I know you assholes hate, it’s losing resources. I am your resource. You’ve seen Winslow. You’ve seen how he hasn’t left the tower in days, how he’s losing his fucking mind. He has a weapon. Put two and two together, you heartless pricks! If you don’t get me out, he’s going to snap. He’s going to kill—

7485-OW: No one is listening, Courtney.

[The camera's view jolts, revealing 7485-OW standing in the room's doorway.]

0291-CH: No, that's not…

[The two subjects stare at each other in silence.]

[Skipping irrelevant footage.]

0291-CH: —therfucker! Get off me!

[The two subjects are wrestling each other on the floor. 7485-OW is seemingly intent on harming 0291-CH, attempting to stab 0291-CH with the bayonet. 0291-CH fights back, kicking 7485-OW off and throwing him into a nearby wall.]

0291-CH: Manslaughter my ass, you lunatic!

[0291-CH scrambles off the floor and sprints away through SCP-9714's empty rooms. 7485-OW can be heard grunting and yelling from behind. 0291-CH eventually reaches SCP-9714's entrance and seems to struggle on where to run next. He stares out to the black sea outside, ready to leave SCP-9714 entirely, but a shout from 7485-OW pulls him back, choosing the tower instead.]

[0291-CH runs into the tower. The mummified corpse still dangles overhead. Without hesitation, 0291-CH begins to hurriedly climb the spiral staircase, but stumbles halfway up. Looking back, 7485-OW has caught up and had grabbed 0291-CH by the foot. 7485-OW stands over 0291-CH and raises the bayonet up high.]

7485-OW: I won't let it take me! I am going home! Not you! Me!

[7485-OW lunges forward, but 0291-CH manages to roll over out of the way. Unable to control his momentum, 7485-OW trips and tumbles over the staircase railing, plummeting to the floor below and landing with a crack.]

[0291-CH stands and looks over the railing. 7485-OW is face down on the floor, unmoving.]

0291-CH: [panting] Oh my God. Holy shit. That's what you get, you lousy fucker!

[0291-CH pulls back from the railing and continues up the stairwell. Upon reaching the service platform, he spots the loose pipe and quickly goes to rip it free. He does so quickly with one strong pull, and without hesitation, begins to climb the ladder towards the ceiling hatch.]

[Entering the light room, 0291-CH positions himself in front of the lamp and holds the pipe up like a baseball bat. The lamp's hum pulses loudly.]

0291-CH: If you think I'm just going to let you get away with what you've put me through.

[0291-CH proceeds to swing the pipe into the lamp, shattering the Fresnel lens. He continues to swing, again and again, crashing through glass and metal mechanisms that burst with dark red fluid. Each hit breaks the lamp further, its rhythm sputtering, until the bulb within shutters with a whimper and the light goes out.]

0291-CH: Feed on that, you piece of shit!

[With one final hit, 0291-CH tosses the pipe to the floor, stained red. The light room has gone dark. 0291-CH laughs to himself, spitting at the broken lamp, before retreating back down the hatch. Walking down the stairwell, the tower has gone dark too, and completely quiet. 0291-CH continues to softly laugh, until approaching the ground floor. In the dark, 7485-OW stirs, but 0291-CH does not notice.]

[Nearly reaching the hall towards SCP-9714's entrance, 0291-CH suddenly yelps in pain, tumbling to the floor. Looking back, 7485-OW is grunting and propping himself up with the bayonet, now bloody from 0291-CH's freshly cut Achilles tendon. Frantically, 0291-CH attempts to crawl away. 7485-OW inches slowly behind him.]

[Upon reaching the entrance room, 0291-CH turns one more time. 7485-OW is now standing over him, once again raising the bayonet high.]

0291-CH: Oh God, please! Ple—

[7485-OW interrupts 0291-CH's pleas, driving the bayonet through his neck. Over the next 3 minutes, 7485-OW idly watches 0291-CH choke on his blood.]

7485-OW: This is my way out. My way home. Mine.

[7485-OW limps away and exits SCP-9714, wading into the surrounding water outside until completely submerged and out of view.]

[0291-CH's camera continues to record for roughly 14 continuous hours. Minimal activity and ambience are detected across the remaining footage, until the end of this runtime. 2 minutes before the camera's automatic shutdown, an unknown presence is heard approaching from behind. Sounds similar to scraping metal and chimes accompany this entity.]

[The scraping sounds intensify as the camera's perspective moves backwards along the floor, until getting caught on a loose floorboard. The camera becomes detached, rolling over into a resting position. 0291-CH's corpse is captured being dragged out of view into the main tower of SCP-9714. Briefly before the recording's conclusion, Earth's moon can be seen shining through a window.]

<END LOG>

Test-9714-01-03 concluded upon SCP-9714's remanifestation in Roskeeragh Point on 9/18/1991. Of the testing equipment recovered from SCP-9714, both GPS trackers and one chest-mounted camera still remain unaccounted for. Neither D-0291-CH or D-7485-OW have been recovered, and SCP-9714’s lamp is notably still functional.

The following two-sided document was also discovered alongside the remaining testing equipment.

Hark! Hark Manannán, son of the Sea, over-king of Tuath Dé, hark! Bid our father Oirbsiu to sweep the world ‘neath foam and salt. Grind the bones of men ‘til silt for apple trees. Bellow! Bellow, drown the wealth of mystery with slime, to choke, to engorge ye! ‘Til seven coral-tine sabers slash seven Fomorian gullets. Bilge do creep, simmer the flesh, bloated with the hours drawn near. Rise! Rise, Gilla Decair, course over thee, call thee home. We are lost! We are lost here, trapped! Seven lands long stolen by seven tribes of men. Buried by mound, by tomb. Feed! Feed, for death is your nectar. Breath is your wine. Bone is your ambrosia. Carve your crescent door for thee, cutting the path to thee in little stars. By moonlit marrow the door be opened! We are Fair! Just and Forgotten! To any man, any time, any god ‘neath black waves of sky. Steal back what was stolen. Our Birthright! Ár Domhan! Salvation, we cry! Salvation! Salvation!

The Riders of the Sidhe

Addendum 9714-2: All future expeditions involving SCP-9714 have been suspended until further notice. Testing involving experimental methods to prevent SCP-9714 manifestations have been approved.