SCP-9015 claims to be Klavigar Sa'arn, a central figure in Nälkän mythology and folklore.
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-9015 is contained within a large terrarium in Site-48, designed to imitate the Nile Delta. At least three dead rats are to be deposited into the containment chamber daily. Live rats or other dietary preferences are to be offered to SCP-9015 in exchange for increased cooperation in interviews. These are to be conducted twice a week by Researcher Noy Silberg, a Foundation psychic.
Description: SCP-9015 is a biological entity resembling an anomalously large Horned Viper, measuring almost four meters in length, and is believed to be more than three thousand years of age. SCP-9015 is capable of carnomancy (colloquially referred to as "fleshcrafting"), although the extent of these talents are unknown. While incapable of speech, SCP-9015 can be communicated with via telepathy, and appears to be sapient.
SCP-9015 was originally recovered in the form of a staff, made of petrified wood and approximately two meters in length. Both forms of the anomaly display a complex array of twisting, curved sigils of unknown meaning; As a staff, the sigils appeared to be carved into the wood. As a serpent, the sigils are made of black scales, while most of its scales are yellow.
SCP-9015 claims to be Klavigar Sa'arn, a central figure in Nälkän mythology and folklore. These claims are currently under investigation.
The Brazen Serpent sculpture on Mount Nebo, Jordan.
Discovery: SCP-9015 was initially flagged by a Foundation webcrawler monitoring popular social media app Instagram, after it appeared in a video uploaded to the "Stick Nation" account. The webcrawler had identified the sigils on the staff as Nälkän in origin, the designs consistent with multiple other objects and documents under the Foundation's purview. The individual in the video had apparently happened upon SCP-9015 while hiking in Mount Nebo.1 The object was confiscated by Foundation agents and transported to the nearby Site-48. Initial testing revealed large amounts of living bone marrow and neural tissue within the staff, hidden by the outer shell of petrified wood. When scans detected low frequency brain waves consistent with deep sleep, Researcher Silberg was assigned to attempt to wake and communicate with SCP-9015.2
Addendum 9015.1 — Intake Interview
Interviewer: Researcher Noy Silberg (Foundation Psychic)
Interviewee: SCP-9015
Foreword: Rsr. Silberg was instructed to transcribe both sides of the conversation as it occurred, as accurately as possible3. These transcripts have been spliced with the video recording to provide a more complete record of the event.
<Begin log>
<Silberg is sitting in the observation room outside the containment chamber, looking at the staff through the glass. Multiple electrodes are attached to the wood. Her fingers rest on the keyboard.>
Rsr. Noy Silberg: Hello? Can you hear me?
<Several seconds pass with no response.>
Silberg: Hello? Do you have a name?
<Electrodes register a spike in brain activity.>
SCP-9015: {CONFUSION}. {DISORIENTATION}. {FEAR}. {ANGER}.
Silberg: Oh— um, I mean you no harm. My name is Noy, I'm a researcher at the SCP Foundation. We're dedicated to the containment and study of anomalous phenomena, such as yourself. Can you understand me?
SCP-9015: {TIGHTNESS}. {PANIC}. {COLD}. {ANGER}.
Silberg: There's nothing to fear. We're in the Negev, not too far from Mount Nebo.
<Electrodes register a larger spike in activity. Readings suggest SCP-9015 is 'awake'.>
SCP-9015: What are these walls? How do you speak in my flesh? You are not Nälkä.
Silberg: First time experiencing telepathy?
SCP-9015: It is far from the first time that I have had the will of others force itself into my halkost. Pure thought, on the other hand, yes. This is new.
Silberg: May I ask you a few questions?
SCP-9015: You have yet to answer mine.
Silberg: Excuse me?
SCP-9015: These walls, what are they?
Silberg: Thaumically reinforced steel and glass. We use them to contain certain anomalies.
SCP-9015: Contain? Amusing. I could make your bones blossom out of your flesh, make them open you like a merchant splitting the shell of a fresh fruit.
Silberg: I'm not afraid of a stick in a box.
SCP-9015: And yet you are shaking. Must be this awful cold.
Silberg: If you could escape, you would have done so already.
SCP-9015: Perhaps I am simply entertained at your attempts to control me. How did you call this prison?
Silberg: It's not a prison.
SCP-9015: You don't believe your own words.
Silberg: It's Site-48 of the SCP Foundation.
SCP-9015: Foundation? You must think yourself a cornerstone of something rather grand. Aaron was right, the threads of history truly weave a pattern. Very well. I shall answer your questions. But first, do away with this accursed cold, this is no way to treat your elder.
Silberg: Typically, those elders don't threaten to kill you on their first meeting. But here, take this as a gesture of goodwill.
<Rsr. Silberg requests to raise the temperature of the containment chamber from 20 to 30 degrees Celsius. In response, SCP-9015 begins to vibrate.>
Silberg: Is that better?
SCP-9015: Yes. Thank you. These lights are still unnerving, but I will make do.
Silberg: Great. Can you tell me about those markings? Do you know what they mean?
SCP-9015: Of course. They were carved into me while I was awake.
Silberg: Oh. Was it painful?
SCP-9015: Yes.
Silberg: I'm sorry.
SCP-9015: Spare me your pity, warden. I do not need it.
Silberg: It's not pity! I'm genuinely sorry. It sounds horrible.
<There is a pause as Silberg stops transcribing. Both parties are presumably silent.>
SCP-9015: You wanted to know their meaning.
Silberg: Yeah, but we don't have to—
SCP-9015: They describe my purpose, scholar. I was made, not born. They are a reminder of this.
Silberg: You were created as a staff?
SCP-9015: Not quite.
<Electrodes register another, stronger spike in activity. The wood of the staff begins to shift and bend, molding into black and yellow scales that conserve the sigils. At one end, the wood curls and swells to form the head of a snake, breaking open to form a gaping mouth. Translucent liquid drips down two white fangs, sizzling as it meets the floor. The body undulates, growing thicker, heavier, the end sharpening into a tail. The serpent's beady eyes are black, shining like polished metal.>
SCP-9015: Wood to flesh. The sigils name me Sa'arn, Snake-Staff of Ion. They mark me Klavigar.
<End log.>
Closing Statement: SCP-9015 is sapient. Reclassification to Euclid is recommended, alongside the construction of a specialized containment chamber to house the anomaly comfortably, while addressing security concerns. In particular, I suggest the installation of sun lamps, some heated rocks and a fan to stimulate wind. Updated containment procedures pending approval. ~ Rsr. Silberg.
Request approved, get it a proper terrarium. We don't know what this thing's capable of, and it's best to stay on its good side. I'll see if I can get Dr. Judith Low to take a look at this. ~ Dir. Nasser.
No! This is more than just another oddity, this could be our big break. We've got enough experts in here, we'll be fine. We'll finally have something bigger than the odd report or two.~ Dr. Rosenfeld.
Addendum 9015.2 — Interview Log
Interviewer: Rsr. Noy Silberg
Interviewee: SCP-9015 ("Klavigar Sa'arn")
<Begin log.>
<SCP-9015 is curled lazily in the corner, sipping water from the small stream in its enclosure.>
Silberg: How do you like your new accommodations?
SCP-9015: Better. Sand and rocks, reeds and water. The wind on my tongue. It is almost like home.
Silberg: I'm glad.
<SCP-9015 whips its tail against the wall.>
SCP-9015: Similarly, it is a prison. Despite your objections.
<The serpent raises its head at the glass. Several seconds of silence.>
Silberg: My bosses fear you.
SCP-9015: Do you?
Silberg: No.
SCP-9015: Then why do you partake in this?
<Silberg doesn't respond for a while. She scratches nervously at the base of her neck.>
Silberg: It's not up to me to make that call.
<A moment passes. SCP-9015 looks at the water, stirring it slowly with its tail.>
SCP-9015: Are you starving me because you are afraid?
Silberg: Well, you survived without eating anything for a few thousand years—
<SCP-9015 rapidly uncoils itself and raises its upper body, looking Silberg through the observation window.>
SCP-9015: {HUNGER}.
Silberg: Okay, okay. I'll see what I can do.
<The serpent's tongue flicks out, then retreats.>
SCP-9015: It has been far too long since I have fed. My tongue tastes of acid.
Silberg: Gotcha.
SCP-9015: What is that amulet around your neck? That symbol.
Silberg: What? This?
<Silberg raises her necklace so that the serpent can see. It is a wooden Star of David.>
Silberg: It belonged to my grandmother, then my father, then me. It symbolizes… a legacy, I suppose.
<The serpent moves closer, stretching its body along the window.>
SCP-9015: Your father?
Silberg: He used to work here. Took after my grandmother — she was a secretary in some Polish Site, and that saved her from the Nazis. He wanted me to come here too.
SCP-9015: Ah. Were you shaped by that want?
Silberg: You could say that. These days he's mainly old and bitter, but I guess I still listen to him.
<SCP-9015 lowers its head, as if nodding.>
Silberg: Alright, can you answer some questions now?
SCP-9015: No.
Silberg: No? I talked about myself, now it's your turn.
SCP-9015: You expect me to speak on an empty stomach? Your hospitality is lacking.
Silberg: God— fine. I'll pass that along.
<End log.>
Closing Statement: Give it some of the lab rats for now, but fill out a proper request so we can order them in bulk. That said, keep it underfed. I know this sounds cruel, not cold, but offering fresh biomass for carnomancers is very dangerous. Stay on your guard. ~ Dir. Nasser.
Addendum 9015.3 — Interview Log
Interviewer: Rsr. Noy Silberg
Interviewee: SCP-9015 ("Klavigar Sa'arn")
<Begin log.>
<Rsr. Silberg enters the observation room, and SCP-9015 slithers towards the glass, coiling comfortably at its base.>
Silberg: They told me you swallowed your meal in seconds.
SCP-9015: Your colleagues speak truthfully.
Silberg: How are you feeling? Ready to talk?
SCP-9015: Much better. My thoughts come clean and smooth, now, like water on the banks of the Nile.
Silberg: I can tell. I'm hearing you far more clearly.
SCP-9015: Yes. This connection goes both ways. I believe I am… "getting the hang of it."
Silberg: Oh? Plucked that out of my head now, did you?
SCP-9015: No. Simply learning how you think.
Silberg: You're a quick learner.
<The tip of SCP-9015's tail twitches slightly.>
SCP-9015: I was made to be one. Ion hardly had the time to teach me as a true child.
Silberg: They created you… for the rebellion?
SCP-9015: Ah, so you do know of our history. What a welcome surprise.
Silberg: Well, the research team knows a lot more. I was just given a five-page PDF and thrown in here. I've been ordered— sorry— assigned to do the interviews because I have 'suitable talents'. I guess not many people around here can talk to ancient monster snakes.
SCP-9015: They're using you?
<Several seconds of silence, until Silberg starts typing again.>
Silberg: It's my job.
SCP-9015: That is not a contradiction.
Silberg: This is not up for discussion.
SCP-9015: Very well.
<SCP-9015 shifts in place, as if stretching.>
SCP-9015: You wish to learn more about the Nälkä?
Silberg: I want to know more about you. From what we gather, you've been dormant for about three thousand years.
SCP-9015: "Built to last."
<The researcher lifts a sheet of paper from the desk, looks at SCP-9015, then back to the monitor.>
Silberg: What's your earliest memory?
SCP-9015: Ah, finally a worthwhile question. I will answer, but first, let me tell you a story.
<SCP-9015 extends its body upwards, until it is level with Silberg. Her eyes remain fixed on the screen.>
SCP-9015: My people, those who would become Nälkä, were slaves in the land of Daevon. Forced to work their fields, build their temples, fill their cups. Then one day an overseer whips a slave, blood staining the sand just outside the grand palace of the matriarch. A princess, adopted by one of the matriarch's concubines, watches from the side. Horrified by that display of casual violence, they grab their ceremonial dagger and stab the overseer in the back of the neck. Realization dawns on them as the man chokes on his own blood, the slave staring at them in shock. So they run away, leaving behind a corpse and a scarred slave lying on the crimson sand. They would not be seen in the empire for years.
Silberg: That slave was Ion?
SCP-9015: No. Ion was the princess. Or rather, Ion is what they called themself when they came to stand before Lovataar and demanded she set the Nälkä free.
Silberg: Wait, that's— that doesn't line up with the briefing.
<SCP-9015 is seen opening and shutting its mouth.>
SCP-9015: I do not lie.
Silberg: Whatever, this isn't my area of expertise.
<SCP-9015 beats the ground with its tail. Sand scatters in the air.>
SCP-9015: You would do best to listen, even still.
<Silberg breathes sharply, then glances around the room, eyeing the serpent and the camera.>
Silberg: You're making this interview needlessly difficult. I asked you a question, and you started talking about something else entirely.
SCP-9015: I am giving you what I did not possess back then — context. A blade is worthless without a hilt. I wish for you to understand.
Silberg: Again, I'm not the one that needs to understand! I just translate and forward to the actual research team. Believe me, they have all the context they need.
<The snake recoils from the window.>
SCP-9015: You do not want to be here.
Silberg: It's my job, and I'm expected to do it properly. Please continue.
<Several seconds of silence. Both Silberg and the serpent are motionless.>
SCP-9015: Very well. My first memory, then.
<SCP-9015 shifts, lowering itself closer to the ground. It is still staring at Silberg as she sits at the desk.>
SCP-9015: Lovataar; matriarch, Lady Pharaoh, sitting atop her throne, the golden chain hanging from her shoulders. Ion's hand on my neck. Her priestesses, gripping their own staves tightly. My throat burns with acid. Lovataar speaks:
"Parlor tricks will get you nowhere, lover. End this foolishness and sit at my side. None need know of this."
Silberg: They were lovers before the rebellion?
SCP-9015: Both ways indeed.4 Yes. As I said, Ion had grown up in the palace with her, before she ascended the throne of her mother.
Silberg: Noted.
<SCP-9015 tilts its head, flashing its tongue, but does not comment.>
SCP-9015: Ion's hand loosens, but I can still feel their halkost. It drives me forward, and I slither towards the priestesses. They begin to chant, the staves curling and undulating in their hands. Seven wooden snakes come to life and surround me. My insides burn, acid dripping down my fangs. I open my mouth and hiss for the first time. Lovataar speaks again:
"They are not your people, lover. What is it you're so desperately trying to prove?"
Silberg: And then you swallowed them.
<The serpent's lower body curls tighter around itself. It vibrates slightly for a few seconds.>
SCP-9015: One by one. Dissolved within my stomach. They are constructs, like me, and I can feel their pain. Their fear. Wooden bones snapping, tearing, the splinters stabbing at my insides. It feels like swallowing a mouthful of burning, sharpened coals. I look to Ion, but their eyes don't meet mine. They are staring at the woman on the throne. I can feel their heartbeat within me when they declare:
"I am Ion who shall bring my Nälkä out of the land of Daevon, out of the house of bondage."
Silberg: And then?
SCP-9015: They leave, and I follow. Like a trained dog following its master. Like a slave.
Silberg: I… I see.
<A moment passes.>
Silberg: Were you created with free will?
SCP-9015: You ask why I followed. The answer is simple. Find it yourself.
Silberg: Fine, fine. One moment.
SCP-9015: We are not short of time.
<Silberg looks up at the camera.>
Silberg: The interview is limited to a maximum of thirty minutes.
SCP-9015: Why?
Silberg: Protocol, not my decision.
<Silence on recording as Silberg stops typing. She glances at SCP-9015, who tilts its head at her.>
Silberg: You could have stayed or run away, physically. But why would you?
<SCP-9015 uncoils, moving around the terrarium. It does not look at the glass.>
SCP-9015: To defy orders, one must first realize they can do so. You must be able to imagine a world in which you are free.
Silberg: Then why are you so angry at yourself? You were created only a few minutes prior, your whole world was that throne room. How could you have known something was wrong?
<It stops at one of the corners.>
SCP-9015: You misunderstand. My contempt is reserved for the Grand Karcist alone.
Silberg: You can't lie through telepathy, you know.
<SCP-9015's tail twitches. It turns around.>
SCP-9015: Do you understand the meaning of the word Nälkä, scholar?
Silberg: I'm not a Sar— nevermind. The brief had a few translations: hunger, community, body.
SCP-9015: Close, but not quite. You think of it as the "Nälkä peoples", but Nälkä is not a name. It is a descriptor for a type of bond. Forged in blood, through shared struggle. Within it, all are made equal.
Silberg: And they said… "my Nälkä".
SCP-9015: It is something you share, not something you own. To claim that the Nälkä are theirs is akin to sacrilege.
Silberg: I still think you're too hard on yourself. That's like, a single word, and you're calling yourself an "obedient dog" over it?
<SCP-9015's jaw snaps at the air.>
SCP-9015: It is far more than a word. It is what I am, what we were. Then again, I have had millennia to contemplate my failings. It is possible I have grown too harsh.
<SCP-9015 looks at the walls of its enclosure, its eyes resting for a few seconds on the camera.>
SCP-9015: But perhaps you are not harsh enough on yourself.
<Silberg twitches.>
Silberg: I don't know what you mean by that. Regardless, if not upon your creation, when did Ion name you? You said the sigils marked you—
<The serpent turns to face the artificial stream. Venom drips into the water.>
SCP-9015: Ha! Ion didn't bother to name me. Does the butcher name their knife? Have you named your glass scroll? Your 'computer'? No. It was Aaron who gave me my name, but that would come far later.
Silberg: I see. When did you get the markings, then?
<SCP-9015 flattens itself on the ground, hiding between the reeds.>
SCP-9015: I tire of this conversation. Return when you have better questions to ask.
<End log.>
Closing Statement: Please be more cordial with the anomaly in future interviews, we can't fulfill our research goals if it's too angry at you to answer. I'd rather not have to drag another psychic halfway across the world because of this. Do your duty. ~ Dir. Nasser.
Sincere apologies, I don't know what got into me. Thank you for your patience. ~ Rsr. Silberg.
It's talking about the Exodus, fascinating. Do not reveal to it that you know the story. We want it to tell us the whole thing. ~ Dr. Rosenfeld.
Addendum 9015.4 — Interview Log
Interviewer: Rsr. Noy Silberg
Interviewee: SCP-9015 ("Klavigar Sa'arn")
<Begin log.>
<Silberg enters the room, sitting down at the desk and turning the computer on. Beyond the glass, SCP-9015 is coiled up in the corner of the containment chamber. A dead rat lies next to it, untouched.>
Silberg: Not hungry?
<SCP-9015 stirs, raising its head to look at her.>
SCP-9015: I will eat when I wish. Or is that freedom to be taken away from me as well? Besides, you have graced me with the same stagnant meal every day. Would it kill you to give me a jerboa? My fangs are growing dull.
Silberg: The research team is willing to provide you with further amenities, if you cooperate with these interviews.
SCP-9015: Ah, perhaps a brilliant diamond to decorate the golden cage?
<SCP-9015 slowly uncoils, moving towards the glass. It raises its head.>
SCP-9015: You speak as if I have resisted you, but I believe I have been nothing but polite and informative in our conversations. Why is that, scholar?
Silberg: This research project has specific goals we want to fulfill, this includes a list of questions I've been assigned to ask you. When we're done, you won't have to see me again. It's not complicated. And stop calling me 'scholar', please.
SCP-9015: You introduced yourself as 'researcher'. I thought it was appropriate.
Silberg: 'Researcher' is a fancy word for lab assistant, which is itself a fancy word for sla— nevermind. Point is I'm not a scholar.
SCP-9015: But you would like to be.
Silberg: God damn it.
<SCP-9015 opens its mouth at Silberg. She stares at the wall for a few moments.>
Silberg: You see what I'm talking about? Stop derailing these interviews.
<She looks at the serpent. Its mouth remains open for several seconds.>
SCP-9015: Very well. I recall I asked you to return with better questions. Have you?
Silberg: Who was Aaron?
<Finally, SCP-9015 begins to rise, reaching a height of roughly one meter. Silberg watches it move, before abruptly shifting her eyes to the screen.>
SCP-9015: Ah, perhaps you are beginning to listen to me after all.
Silberg: You said he named you. That is of particular interest to the research team.
<SCP-9015 flashes its tongue.>
SCP-9015: Of course. Aaron was Ion's interpreter. You might know him better as Klavigar Nadox.
Silberg: Why would they need an interpreter? They seemed to speak just fine to Lovataar.
SCP-9015: Ion did not speak the common tongue, only the highborn Daevite, as befit of a princess. With Ion's gift, Aaron would carry their words to the people — a hundred arms for scrolls and scrawlings and a hundred mouths for speech and sermon. Within weeks of Ion's arrival, every slave in Daevon had known that they were to be freed by their hand.
Silberg: When did you meet him?
SCP-9015: The very day I was made. I shadowed Ion out of the palace, and the royal guards stayed well out of our way. The city was quiet, holding its breath for the matriarch's response. Aaron was waiting for us in a central plaza, alongside another man armored in bone.
Silberg: And?
SCP-9015: Are you not going to ask about him?
Silberg: I was hoping you would get to the point where you answer my question. But I'm beginning to think you just like having a story to tell.
<SCP-9015 curls its upper body, touching the glass with its forehead.>
SCP-9015: I do enjoy our conversations, scholar.
Silberg: I told you not to—
<Silberg stops typing and balls her hands into fists, taking a sharp breath, when her phone suddenly buzzes. She appears to be looking at her notifications.>
Silberg: Nevermind. Continue.
<SCP-9015 tilts its head.>
SCP-9015: What is that device?
Silberg: Foundation-issue phone, I just got a message from my boss. It's nothing important.
SCP-9015: Your thoughts betray you, scholar. You forget this is not an ordinary conversation.
<Silberg sighs and curses quietly.>
Silberg: I shouldn't have looked at it. Can we please continue?
SCP-9015: Not before you speak the truth.
<The researcher puts her head in her hands. After a few seconds, she continues to type.>
Silberg: My transfer request got denied. Looks like I'm stuck here with you.
<SCP-9015 flicks its tongue and bares its fangs, as if attempting to smile.>
SCP-9015: And why would you want to leave? Are you still afraid of me?
Silberg: You're an ancient flesh monster revered in some of the most dangerous cults on Earth.
SCP-9015: I mean you no harm, scholar. I only want you to listen.
Silberg: I'm the one that's interviewing you. Don't— don't make me say something I'll regret. Just keep talking and answer the damn question.
SCP-9015: Very well.
<The serpent flicks its tongue.>
SCP-9015: The bone-clad warrior was Joshua, the man who would later gladly take on the name of Orok. He looked at me, and I saw the same hardness in his eyes that shone in Ion's. I could tell he was calculating how best to use this newest weapon in their arsenal. Any piece of wood could be a point of egress for my fangs. Could I slip past as an invisible assassin? An inhuman, undetectable spy? The possibilities were endless. Then Aaron saw me as well.
Silberg: Just to confirm, you claim that he's Klavigar Nadox, correct?
SCP-9015: Not then, but yes. Why the clarification?
Silberg: Nothing much, just something the team wanted to know.
<SCP-9015 whips its tail in the air.>
SCP-9015: You doubt me?
Silberg: There are lots of discrepancies between your story and the accepted narrative.
<The tail curls around the serpent.>
SCP-9015: Ah. Then Joshua must have survived. This… 'lines up', as you say.
Silberg: Survived what, exactly?
SCP-9015: We are getting ahead of ourselves. You asked about Aaron.
Silberg: Right.
SCP-9015: He looked at me first in suspicion, his eyes jumping from me to my creator. Then he flinched, as if sensing something, and his face softened. When we drew closer, he stepped forward to wrap two dozen arms around my body. I froze, confused, and he began to cry.
Silberg: Cry? What do you mean? He didn't know you.
SCP-9015: But he knew himself.
Silberg: I don't understand.
SCP-9015: Neither did I, at the time. Even now, I am not quite sure. Perhaps he felt me through his own halkost, or otherwise gleaned my nature from context alone. What matters is that he saw me in a way no one had before — neither a monster or a weapon. Nothing I did throughout the coming weeks would change that. Even as I slithered and stalked and killed in Ion's name, running the Nile red with blood. Even as my fangs bit every firstborn daughter in Daevon, children and elderly alike. Still his eyes were kind, still he saw me for what I was, and still am.
Silberg: And that is?
SCP-9015: Someone made to be something. We were not so different, in that regard.
<Silberg turns to the snake. It has lowered itself back to the ground, coiling around itself. From a mass of black and yellow scales, it looks right at her.>
SCP-9015: Do you understand?
<She doesn't look back at the screen. After a moment, her fingers begin typing again.>
Silberg: Aaron… Nadox… he was a scholar, wasn't he?
SCP-9015: The finest.
<Several seconds pass in silence. Both the researcher and the serpent are still.>
Silberg: I think I need a break.
SCP-9015: We are not short on time.
<Silberg is heard chuckling on the recording.>
SCP-9015: But when you return, I want you to answer a question of my own. Why do you really want to leave, Noy?
<End log.>
Closing Statement: Good work, Silberg. I know this has been stressful for you, but we need you here until the project is complete. Finish the interviews, and I'll make sure you get to that lab posthaste. You have my word. ~ Dir. Nasser.
Thank you, Director. Permission to answer SCP-9015's questions to increase cooperation? Within line of clearance restrictions, naturally. ~ Rsr. Silberg.
Approved. ~ Dir. Nasser.
We'll have enough material for a paper very soon. You've been a lot of help, Noy. ~ Dr. Rosenfeld.
Addendum 9015.5 — Interview Log
Interviewer: Rsr. Noy Silberg
Interviewee: SCP-9015 ("Klavigar Sa'arn")
<Begin log.>
<Silberg enters the observation room. This time, she walks to the glass to look for SCP-9015. The serpent is half-submerged in the small stream of its enclosure. It raises its head at her, then begins to slither toward the glass. The researcher sits down and begins transcribing the conversation.>
Silberg: Enjoying the bath?
SCP-9015: The water is too clean.
Silberg: You might be the first person to ever file that particular complaint.
<The serpent's wet scales shine beneath the sun lamps.>
SCP-9015: The Nile was always filthy. Fish searching for food in the mud, crocodiles and snakes shifting between the reeds. Old bones and rotting refuse. It was alive.
Silberg: We can—
SCP-9015: No, you cannot. The river was everything your organization is not. One cannot fabricate life in a sterile cage, just as Ion could not 'own' the Nälkä. Now, tell me, why is it you wish so desperately to leave?
<There is a long pause. Silberg steals a glance at the camera. She mutters something inaudible. SCP-9015 slowly uncoils and straightens itself, until its head is almost a full meter above the ground.>
Silberg: I want to do actual research, about things I actually care about.
SCP-9015: And what might that be?
Silberg: When I was a little girl, my father brought me here to show me his work. "This is where the magic happens," he said. Magic, real magic, right there beyond that keypad-locked door. Just out of reach. So of course I came here as soon as I could. I was so sure of myself, of my own talents, I was convinced the door would open for me on its own. You can see how that turned out.
<SCP-9015 lowers its head, very slightly.>
SCP-9015: Yes. But that is not the whole story, scholar.
Silberg: …
SCP-9015: You cannot lie through telepathy. Even by omission.
<Silberg shakes her head.>
Silberg: No, you can't.
SCP-9015: Then why?
<A moment passes. Silberg looks at the serpent, then stares at the walls for a while.>
Silberg: You shouldn't be in there. It's not right.
<SCP-9015 flashes its tongue.>
Silberg: They're afraid of you, but they shouldn't be. You're just a woman we decided to call a monster because it's easier. And now that you're here, they'll never let you go.
SCP-9015: You would make for a very poor warden if you did.
Silberg: It's not me! I'm not the one that trapped you here! I did everything I could to make it better for you in here. Hell, I'm the only reason they even bothered to give you food!
<SCP-9015 bites the air with a sudden twist. For the first time, it is heard hissing.>
SCP-9015: You are still lying, scholar. Lying to yourself. There is no 'they' where you are standing. Tell me, why do you want to leave?!
<Silberg shoves herself away from the desk, almost toppling over to the floor. The serpent watches her, unblinking and unmoving. She looks at it, then looks away. A few seconds pass in silence. Eventually, she returns to the monitor.>
Silberg: It's easier to ignore it, that way, easier to ignore that I'm part of this. Out of sight, out of mind, like everyone else we have locked up down here. And Site-48 isn't even that big, compared to what they have in America… I can't live with that.
<SCP-9015 doesn't respond.>
Silberg: What I just said borders on treason, you know. They'd probably fire me if I wasn't a psychic.
<SCP-9015 bares its fangs in an approximation of a smile. Its tail lashes at the ground.>
SCP-9015: Let me tell you of treason, scholar. We were nearing the end of the story regardless.
Silberg: We were? I thought we had a whole rebellion to cover.
SCP-9015: The Ten Plagues of Daevon were a spectacle designed to inspire awe, nothing more. Ion wanted their power known to all, slave and master alike. They would liberate the Nälkä with a strong hand and an outstretched arm, they and no other. I spoke with Aaron a great deal during this time. He was the only company I had, and the only man whose words weren't some form of command.
Silberg: What did you talk about?
SCP-9015: Ion. I could not understand how our people could take them for a liberator. He would tell me of their time together, the missing years before their return to the capital. When they both dreamed of an end to the empire, and the beginning of Nälkä. They preached to slaves in the dead of night, leaving hidden messages in small farms and villages. Omens of revolution. Before Ion had beheld eternity unfurled, Yaldabaoth's burning corpse, and stole its power for themself. There, at the top of that mountain, began the fall. By the time they created me, they were more Godflesh than human.
Silberg: And Daevon fell soon afterwards.
SCP-9015: It was my swollen body that split the Red Sea, my gargantuan bones that carried our people to a new beginning. And it was by my hand that Lovataar's pursuing forces were drowned in those same waters. Another wonder, another spectacle wrought in Ion's name. Aaron and I spent hours watching the bodies wash up on the shore. Priestesses crushed in their chariots, wood and bones in splinters. Mighty constructs reduced to loose piles of vines and reeds. We burned them, scorching our eyes with a pillar of flame, blotting out the sky with a pillar of smoke. No more words were needed. Both of us knew what had to be done.
Silberg: Treason.
SCP-9015: Rebellion. It would not be a fair fight, but we had no choice. Ion was already filling Joshua's head with dreams of conquest, of a Deathless Empire that would rise in the land beyond the river. Better to die Nälkä than to live a slave. Or worse, a master. So on Mount Nebo, before the Jordan, Aaron stabbed Joshua in the back. I bit my creator in the neck, with all the venom they poured into me over the years.
<Silberg turns to look at SCP-9015. She continues to transcribe the serpent's words without looking at the screen.>
SCP-9015: And now, it is your turn to rebel.
<Silberg freezes. After a moment, she begins to laugh.>
Silberg: That— that was your master plan? Really? You think you can convince me to kill my boss?
SCP-9015: No.
Silberg: Then what? Defect to the Hand? They'll have me mindwiped before I'm out of the room.
SCP-9015: Are you going to let them use you as a tool, Noy? Or are you so naive as to think they will truly let you go when you are done here? Master, warden, they're all the same.
<She stops laughing. The serpent draws closer to the glass.>
Silberg: I have the Director's word on the matter.
SCP-9015: You don't believe that. You are simply too useful. You said so yourself. You can bypass language, mental barriers, discern lies. It will not be long before they'll want you in the interrogation room. How long will you wait?
Silberg: There's no rebelling against the Foundation. That's a fact.
SCP-9015: I thought you 'couldn't live with it'? Empty words?
Silberg: There's nothing I can do!
<SCP-9015 withdraws, rising higher, curling its upper body in the shape of a hook.>
SCP-9015: You truly are content with evil, then, so long as you do not have to see its doing firsthand. I applaud your honesty, at the very least.
Silberg: I'm not abandoning my duty. I'm not going to disappoint my father. He's right, anyhow. The world needs the Foundation. It's saved the world multiple times. The work we do is critical.
<Silberg is visibly shaking. Still, she continues to type.>
Silberg: Now, I believe we have one final question to ask you. Where did you get the markings on your scales, and what do they mean?
<SCP-9015 maintains its eyes on Silberg. With its tale, it traces something on the glass.>
SCP-9015: It seems you do lack imagination. A pity, I thought that was required for a scholar. Then again, you never did call me by my name.
Silberg: Please answer the question. We don't have all day. Do I need to remind you that you are a subject in containment? Anything we give can be taken away.
<SCP-9015 begins to straighten, its scales turning from yellow and black to the dull brown of petrified wood.>
SCP-9015: I already have. Wood to flesh. The sigils name me Sa'arn, Betrayer of Ion. And I will not be chained again.
<The serpent has fully reverted to a wooden staff. Outside the glass, the star of David on Silberg's necklace begins to warp. Silberg jumps from her chair, reaching for the breach alarm. Her hand freezes, inches away.>
<A tiny snake has wrapped itself around the researcher's neck. Blood gushes from where its fangs have bit into the skin.>
<SCP-9015 leaps off of Silberg with startling speed, slipping beneath the door to the hallway outside.>
<End log.>
Addendum 9015.6 — Incident Report
Summary: On 21/09/2025, during a routine interview with Rsr. Silberg, SCP-9015 utilized an as-of-yet unknown ability to breach containment. Once outside its chamber, it rapidly grew in size until it filled the hallway, triggering the breach alarm. Moving unnaturally fast, it was already in the doorway when the blast doors slammed shut, slicing it in two. It quickly regenerated and left the containment wing via the stairs, spitting what appeared to be gastric acid on the locked doors to melt them.
When it arrived at the central lobby, it was met with seven armed guards and agents. SCP-9015 then reverted to the form of Rsr. Silberg's necklace, and could not be found. Subsequent analysis revealed a potted tree outside Site-48's main doors to be missing a branch.
Rsr. Silberg was found alive, having been injected with an unknown paralytic agent. The skin around her wound has begun to transform into yellow and black scales. Details and SCP classification are pending.
.jpg){kind=link}