Welcome to the belly of the beast.
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The center of SCP-9928.
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-9928 is under the purview of Historical Review Group CLIO-4 as part of its research into the now-extinct cryptomantic society of the schriftsteller.
While there is evidence to multiple points of entry, the only known gateway into SCP-9928 exists inside Greig’s Caves, a limestone cavern within Lion’s Head, Ontario, Canada. The affected cavern has been blocked off from public access under the guise of structural danger.
Update: After the containment of SCP-001-B on 8 September 1941, SCP-9928 is presumed inactive, and its containment is considered a low priority..Cantas-class anomalies are those whose containment is dependent upon the containment of another item.
Description: SCP-9928 is an extradimensional space comprised of a singular, large cavern with an amphitheater at its center. This central structure appears to resemble Roman architecture, despite radiocarbon dating indicating SCP-9928 predates the style by several centuries.
The space was discovered on 13 June 1938 when CLIO-4 uncovered a document attesting the existence of a portal within Greig’s Caves that would “lead to the Lion’s Den”. The only known entryway to SCP-9928 would be found by Dr. Vivian Scout and MTF Alpha-43 (“Witch Hunters”) upon investigation. This entryway was comprised of the following pieces:
- A carved stone arch covered in complex, spiraling patterns;
- A large central hourglass filled with white sand.The duration of which lasts exactly twenty-eight hours. affixed to the arch’s keystone;
- Two statuettes resembling an unknown feline entity lying at the base of the arch.
The means behind its construction are unknown, and thus far no additional entryways have been found.
Attached below is Dr. Scout’s recounting of the initial exploration of SCP-9928, and an examination into its possible historical context.
CLIO-4 has long been uncovering scattered evidence of these entities putting in appearances at disparate times and places throughout history. Lately, some of this evidence has been pointing to a particular cavern up on the Bruce Peninsula, cited as a "gateway to the Lion's Den". I took a brief excursion there with one of the Task Forces, and my suspicions were confirmed: the place contains a monument to the Unyielding.
The "Lion's Den" superficially resembles a Roman amphitheatre — albeit one transplanted a hundred metres below ground — but nearly every surface bears intricate stonework more reminiscent of the Late Baroque. There are engravings of spirals, of roses, of esoteric sigils whose meanings I could not begin to parse, and an abundance of animal symbolism; in particular on the archway through which we entered, whose base abuts on carved figures of a masked feline figure. We should count ourselves fortunate that the schriftsteller, unlike their inconstant counterparts, made use of such consistent symbolism and imagery throughout their history — else we would find it nightmarish work to catalogue their activities.
We found the floor coated in chalk dust, with intermittent dents and gashes throughout, and similar marks high up on the pillars and rocky outcrops above the arena. These are not the ornate engravings constructed in the architecture — it appears more as though the amphitheatre had been home to an enormous clawed creature leaping about the stonework like a housecat scratching the furniture.
If this is indeed a house, I am disturbed thinking about the sort of cat that might occupy it.
The gouges are several feet in length.
I had almost missed it upon entry, so full of dust it was, an inscription that lay carved upon the floor of the arena’s entry arch. It’s an old, old form of German. I was lucky to have some familiarity with crossing that historical divide. Das Rätsel der Sphinx, it reads. The Riddle of the Sphinx.
We saw numerous lanterns and torches installed on the walls, all unlit; most likely they burned out centuries ago. With the limited visibility offered by our flashlights, we determined the general layout of the arena: the outer walls consist of twenty-eight archways, each decorated above with a circular symbol. One arch is the gateway through which we entered, while the other twenty-seven are impassable, each featuring a mural of an abstractly-drawn animal figure. Three lines of raised stone brick bisect the floor of the arena at varying angles, some of them marked with astrological symbols. We have assembled an approximate floorplan, to be appended to the expedition notes:
Floorplan sketch of SCP-9928, with murals and symbols indicated.
I fear I shall once again be forced to return to that wretched philosophy book.
— Dr. Vivian Scout
In light of the above, Dr. Scout has noted a particular figure from W.B. Yeats' A Vision. In this book, Yeats alleges that humankind (both individually and collectively) can be described in terms of the "Great Wheel", a cycle of twenty-eight phases each representing distinct modes of thought and action. He illustrates this schema using the following diagram:
Figure taken from A Vision (p.81, 2nd ed.).
SCP-9928-Ω is the ritualistic purpose that SCP-9928 was used for. The details of this ritual are not precisely known; see below addenda for further information.
Addendum 9928.1: Following the discovery of SCP-9928 and the prevailing theory of its origin, Dr. Scout engaged in a correspondence with Thilo Zwist.Believed to be the sole survivor of the schriftsteller after the group's massacre in 1645 at the Battle of Herbsthausen. (PoI-382) in an attempt to gain further insight on both it and SCP-9928-Ω.
Phone Call Transcript
<The call is answered by Dr. Scout. He speaks before the caller does.>
Dr. Scout: Das Rätsel der Sphinx.
<There's a pause on the other end, then a confused chuckle.>
Zwist: Pardon?
Dr. Scout: The Riddle of the Sphinx.
<Zwist laughs.>
Zwist: I understood just fine, Vivian, what I'm wondering is what sparked that as opposed to "hello."
<His tone takes on one of jest.>
Zwist: Am I to solve it? That old ode to Oedipus?
<Dr. Scout hums, amused.>
Dr. Scout: Not that one, I’m afraid. We’ve a new sort of mystery on our hands, one I again find you my only source for aid on.
Zwist: Oh?
Dr. Scout: Did the schriftsteller name anything after that myth? We have found some ancient arena, tucked away. I cannot tell if it is for entertainment, or execution.
<A pause. Zwist clicks his tongue.>
Zwist: Not quite either.
Dr. Scout: So you know of it.
Zwist: Tales were sparse, for us apprentices, but pick your nights right and someone would be bound to loosen their tongue.
It is for a trial. Not of any legal matter, but as a test.
Dr. Scout: And who dispensed this test?
Zwist: Well, I would venture to guess the Sphinx did.
Dr. Scout: Are we speaking of a metaphorical one, or literal? I’ve found the relics of your people have quite a fondness for felines.
Zwist: I had presumed it metaphor, in my youth, but these days I’m not so sure. Regardless, it was he who gave my master’s their power, who led these tests.
Dr. Scout: The one they called the Will, correct?
Zwist: Among many things.
Dr. Scout: What was the purpose of the Riddle of the Sphinx?
Zwist: I had asked a similar question once, sat around a fireplace in one of our halls. It hadn’t been the first time I asked, but it had been the first time I was answered.
My master — Keil was his name — had smiled fondly, and told me: “It is the greatest honor one of us can ever attain, and it is the greatest challenge you would ever face.”
Dr. Scout: Quite opaque.
<Zwist chuckles; it makes Dir. Scout chuckle too.>
Zwist: Oh hush, I’m just getting started. He had a tendency to open with statements like that.
Dr. Scout: So that’s where you got it from.
<Zwist barks a laugh, though it has a trace of something solemn. There is a rustling, like he has shaken his head.>
Zwist: Anyways, he told me what sort of challenge it was. The Riddle of the Sphinx was more than a trial, it was a sacred rite, something to invoke upon both one’s zenith, or their darkest hour.
Because invoking the trial summoned him.
Dr. Scout: The Sphinx.
Zwist: Yes. I was told there were many reasons a schriftsteller could call to that arena — one such was a tale of a man who betrayed us returning, seeking his redemption. He sought to prove himself not just to the guild, but to the Will himself, that he could be trusted.
Dr. Scout: Did he succeed?
Zwist: Glowingly, and he was welcomed back with open arms. He had been tested, judged, and returned to us anew.
Lost glory and honor, further attainment of knowledge, a desire for greater power, desperate times — it was all a reason to call upon the Riddle of the Sphinx, though rare the occasion may be.
Dr. Scout: And it granted these things, I presume? Power and knowledge?
Zwist: Yes, but you first had to pass the trial itself. A gift from a God is not so lightly handed out.
Dr. Scout: What did the trial entail?
Zwist: …a riddle?
Dr. Scout: Thanks.
<The two laugh again.>
Zwist: It is what it says on the tin! But the specifics? That is unfortunately where my knowledge runs out, friend. All I know is that you had only a mere 28 hours within that arena to solve whatever test he gave.
Dr. Scout: Nothing more?
Zwist: The sharing of its details, from the few who had undertaken it, was forbidden. It was sacred.
Dr. Scout: Ah.
<There is a quiet humming.>
Dr. Scout: May I ask one more thing?
Zwist: I don't see why not.
Dr. Scout: What happens if you fail? If the time elapses, or the answer is wrong?
<Silence on recording.>
Zwist: They never said.
<Transcript ends.>
AO-9928.
Addendum 9928.2: Upon a second evaluation of SCP-9928 on 28 January 1940, an anomalous artifact was uncovered from a small chest in a back portion of the amphitheater. AO-9928 is a heavily corroded statuette of a lion, cast in bronze..As per its establishment in 1971, the Site-43’s Memetics and Countermemetics Section is now responsible for the containment and studying of AO-9928.
The object’s anomalous effects are triggered upon running one’s hand down the statue’s back. On activation, AO-9928 will impart a cryptomantic hallucination upon the individual of a single event, which lasts for 28 minutes..From the subject's perspective, the vision appears to last several hours. This vision, experienced from the perspective of an unknown schriftsteller, is heavily degraded due to the artifact’s damage..Said damage appears to be a mix of natural wear and intentional blunt force inflicted upon the object.
The vision imparted by AO-9928 is likely a previous enactment of SCP-9928-Ω.
While the vision occurs entirely in an old dialect of Austrian German, the viewer understands the spoken words regardless. Archived transcripts are in English. To view, please contact the acting Chair of Memetics & Countermemetics.
Note that any and all incongruity with standard documentation is typical for these experiences.
Addendum 9928.3: With the containment of SCP-001-B.Henceforth referred to as SCP-001-UNYIELDING. on 8 September 1941, a new avenue for inquiry in regards to SCP-9928 opened. The following is a recorded conversation between Director Vivian Scout and SCP-001-UNYIELDING in regards to SCP-9928.
Interview Transcript
Date: 11/10/1943
Subject: SCP-001-UNYIELDING
<Recording start.>
<Dir. Scout stands before SCP-001-UNYIELDING, who is sat down. He slides a photo of SCP-9928 across the table towards it.>
Dir. Scout: Do you recognise this place?
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: Oh, of course I recognize it! That is a temple to my eternal wisdom, and I've spent many happy days there.
Dir. Scout: Did you build it?
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: A good long time ago now, yes. Not with these hands, of course.
Dir. Scout: Meaning?
<SCP-001-UNYIELDING gestures at the room around it.>
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: I built it as I built this place.
Dir. Scout: I see. You didn't build it.
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: Perhaps I'll allow you the indulgence of that misconception. For now.
Dir. Scout: You called this place a temple. I would have said it looked more like a gladiatorial arena.
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: Quite by design, although perhaps a bullfighting ring might be nearer the truth.
Dir. Scout: Are you the bull in this metaphor?
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: Hardly a metaphor. The only inaccuracy is, a bull is far too coarse and inelegant for my purposes.
Dir. Scout: A lion, perhaps?
<SCP-001-UNYIELDING smiles.>
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: All those timeless depictions of me share a truth to them, at base.
Dir. Scout: So you are a shapeshifter.
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: That is more my brother's lane. I'd prefer to see it as… <SCP-001-UNYIELDING pauses to think, snaps its finger idly.> …an interchanging of tools. Swapping the wrench for the hammer. This modern age is far more for man than it is for beast.
Dir. Scout: And yet the Riddle of the Sphinx, it seems, has persisted.
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: The Sphinx is a shining facet of history. History is tradition. Tradition is imposition. Imposition is structure. My brother's followers have no such anchors; his presence in the collective imaginary can never sustain itself, for it has no stability.
Dir. Scout: I'm not here to talk about him, I'm here to talk about you. What is the Riddle of the Sphinx?
<Silence on recording.>
<SCP-001-UNYIELDING places its hands on the table and leans forward. It speaks very slowly.>
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: I shall grant you the mercy to rephrase that question. I'm quite enjoying our acquaintance, Dr. Scout; I would hate to cut it short so soon.
<Dir. Scout narrows his eyes.>
Dir. Scout:: You hold trials in that arena, yes?
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: Not nearly so often as I'd like. It's a thoroughly gratifying experience, whichever way it goes.
Dir. Scout: What is the nature of those trials?
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: I bring the candidate to the temple, and I issue them a straightforward task. There are, as your people no doubt saw, twenty-eight sigils painted on the arena's walls. I simply instruct them to choose the correct one. They have my words, and their own mind, and a single piece of chalk. That is all.
Dir. Scout: If they succeed?
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: I grant them an aspect of myself. I enable them to drink from the well of knowledge, to see the world how it ought to be seen. It clears the mind tremendously, to comprehend the great intertwining order that underlies existence.
Dir. Scout: And if they fail?
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: Like I said, tradition is structure, and we must abide by each other. How does failing the Sphinx's riddle generally end?
<Silence on recording.>
Dir. Scout: How many people have you killed?
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: That depends markedly on your frame of reference.
Dir. Scout: My frame of reference is every historical record of your cults that I can find. None of them mention anyone who took your test and failed.
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: They'll hardly have written memoirs from inside my stomach, will they?
Dir. Scout: Is that a metaphor?
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: There is no difference between metaphor and reality, down there.
Dir. Scout: Wh—
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: But since you insist, know this: I am their beginning and I am their end.
Dir. Scout: In what sense?
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: All of their ends. A cycle that draws to a close, when the sun sets on their days here. Any schriftsteller is taught it from the moment they choose their path what awaits them once they walk it in full. They begin with me. They end in me. It just so happens that those who fail the test get to come home early.
<SCP-001-UNYIELDING grins. It bares all its teeth.>
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: Everything in its place.
<Dir. Scout is tense. It is a moment before he replies.>
Dir. Scout: I shall take that under advisement.
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: As well you should.
Dir. Scout: One more question, then. If your followers have to call on you to take the trial, can you still administer it now we have you down here?
<SCP-001-UNYIELDING stiffens. Its head slowly tilts to the side.>
SCP-001-UNYIELDING: You can ask me for it, and find out.
<Recording ends.>
MEMETICS & COUNTERMEMETICS ALERT
AO-9928 HAS BEEN ACTIVATED.
SOMATIC TRANSCRIPTION INCOMING.
You don't know what to expect when you pass the threshold.
How could you? Discussion of what happens within these walls, what these walls even look like is forbidden. No one is to gain any advantage, there is no forewarning. It is is sacred. It is right.
It is cold.
The arena is dark, as you step into its confines. All the lanterns are empty of fuel. The cavern yawns above your head, though you cannot see the ceiling, and your footfalls pierce the silence like thunderclaps. You pass under a titanic arch, you smell chalk dust.
There’s something massive sitting in the center of the arena.
For a moment, in the darkness, your heart leaps into your throat. But it doesn’t move, it makes no sound, and as you creep closer you realize that it is a nothing but a mere statue. You huff.
It looks to be carved from marble, or some other pale stone. A goliath lion, with six limbs and the mask of a man. Its head crested by curved horns, seven in total, like a ram. You are familiar with effigies such as this one, but never before have you seen one of this scale.
It’s facing at an angle that strikes you as odd, not straight on and facing the entrance, but off to the side. You tilt your head. The break of symmetry felt… odd. Wrong, even. It makes the great beast stand out, as you begin to walk a circle around it and the arena.
The arc you entered through had the symbol of the New Moon. You walk along the arcs, towards the First Quarter, and realize the others have shapes painted under them. Animals, you almost miss them in the dark, 27 in total.
Turning right from where you entered, to the First Quarter: a rabbit, a pale-winged butterfly, a grey squirrel, a fox with its tail curved inward, a ram with sharp horns, an Asian elephant, and a crab.
From there, to the Full Moon: a wolf howling at the moon above, a writhing serpent, a spider, a monkey, a falcon preparing to dive, a bull staring straight ahead, and a dragon with its wings held close in.
Onward, to the Third Quarter: a goat with a mouthful of grass, a rat, a wasp in flight, the Set Animal, a brown bear, a winged beetle, and a common fish.
And back to where you began: a pig resting on the ground, a snail with a spiralling shell, a domestic cat, a scorpion, a dove with wings spread wide, and a galloping horse.
You stop, during your walk, to spin in a tight circle. Your eyes struggle to focus, as you try to scan the amphitheater’s walls and empty windows.
You are meant to meet someone here.
You are meant to face God.
So why are you alone?
Perhaps one last step is needed. Confirmation. Offering. Declaration.
Your boot squeaks against the chalk dust as you whirl to face the entrance, the New Moon, the now closed Way you entered through.
"I challenge you," you call fiercely to the darkness (just like you were taught), eyes scanning the shadowed arcs of stone. Somewhere, you hear a creak. "I challenge you for your power."
The arc in front of you suddenly slams down. The exit is gone. Sat now, below the New Moon, is the sigil of a lion.
Every dead lantern hung on the wall flares to life in an instant, as though your emboldened demand is surprise. You are cast in an orange glow (and it is almost blinding), but you grin, for you know that you were heard.
You raise your head, there is si█ence still.
It gives you further pause. Your brow furrows, and you wonder to yourself as you turn back around just wh—
The mask of the statue hovers mere ████ from your face.
You shriek, you can’t help it, you admonish yourself for it anyways. Your tailbone hits the rock.
There is █ heart-stopping moment where nothing happens, nothing moves, until you feel a huff of hot air. A deep, warm laughter fills your head. If not for the Beast before you, you’d harken it to the kindly chuckle of a grandparent, or the voice of your master.
But this is neither of those.
On the ground, you remain. You shift your collapsed position to a bow, before God.
He raises His head, stands to full height (The mask alone had been taller than ███), and peers down at you with a set of seven eyes. They blaze in a halo around His mask.
"Rise,"
speaks the Sphinx. You obey.
"Rise, and be welcomed."
You clasp your hands and lower your head, “My apologies, your Grace,” you murmur, pulse pounding still, “I should not have been so startled.”
The great beast chuckles again.
"Apologize not. Your fright means your wits are about you. This is good."
He approaches you, walks around you in a wide circle. In the l█ght, you can see now that four signs of the zodiac have been painted upon the stone on the arena's floor — the animals symbolised match those from the arena’s outs██rts.
"A challenge for power, is what you seek?"
“Yes,” you breathe, “my masters are too cautious. They stay their blade and sit in fear. What I want is action, before too much slips between our fingers.”
“They are cowards.” The words are spat from your mouth before you have t█me to think, “I want to show them how truly to lead us.”
The declaration for usurpation makes Him tilt his head, a low ██████ echoes from Him. For a brief moment, you tense.
“Perhaps I spoke too—“
"No."
He interrupts, and you flinch.
"You have ambition I have not seen in some time."
The God purrs, you can feel the vibrations in your bones.
"That intrigues me."
You don’t necessarily relax, but you raise your head and exhale.
"Let us see how far ambition gets you."
The Unyielding has circled back in front of you. A claw the size of a sword unsheathes from His paw, and He begins to carve into the very stone at your feet. The rock melts away, and he slices it as easily as a butcher through flesh.
A series of ██████.
The Riddle of the Sphinx.
The proposal to use SCP-5109 as a means of translating the SCP-9928-Ω riddle is pending approval.
You take the chalk from the bowl ██ ███ ████████.
He has returned to the center of the arena, as you set about your task. The loops of language and the symbols in the stone. Chalk screeches against granite, and the Sphinx is motionless ████ ████. He is staring off to the side. You would wonder why, but you cannot spare the time just yet. There is a task to complete.
You aren’t sure █████ ███ █████ ██ ██ ███████ ████ ██ ██████ █████ ██ ████ █████ ███ ██████ ██████ ██████ how long?
This is going to take ████████ ███████ 28 hours ████ ███ █ █████████ ██ █████.
████ ██████ ██ ███ █████████ You hope not █████ ███ ████ ██ █ ███ ████ ████ ████████ ██ ███████ ███████ ████ █████ for your chest is tight. ████ ███ ███ ███████ Sand trickles down the hourglass.
████ █████ ███ ██████ You cannot █████ see it.
Soon.
███████ █████████ █████ ██ ████ ████
███ █████ ████ ████████ █ ████
██ ████ ████ ████ ████ ████████ ██████████
█████ ████████ █████ █████ ██████ ███████
██████ ████ ██████████ ███████ ████
████ ████ ████ ████ ██████ ███████ ████
███ █████ ████ ███████ ███ ██████
███ ██ ██████ ████ ██ ███ ████
You smile.
Legible now, far from over. You turn to face the still████ ██ ███ Sphinx. In the orange glow of the lanterns, His █████ fur glimmers. You approach, stand oh-so-close. You can hear His breathing, as you walk around towards his front. He is looking at something.
You have to stand next to His maw, just to see where the voids o█ ███ ████ are staring. The fangs you see beneath are bigger than you█ █████.
The Sphinx is facing the dove.
A little bird with its wings spread wide. You trace your ████ █████ ██, trace your eyes along the others. The symbols. You stare at the Sphinx, ███ ████████ █████ ███ He says nothing. Simply watches you, or the bird, or neither at all. Any thought ██ ████████████ dies in your throat, staring down bared teeth.
You exhale.
The Cycle, ███ █████ █████ ███ ███ ██████████ ██ ███ ██ ███ succeeded. You have to succeed. You want to ████. You have to ███.
You have to.
You look to ███ █████.
It has been a while, but you remember these █████████. The shape set at your feet, the pattern of the cycle around you.
It still ████ ██ █████ ███ ████ ████ ██ █████ ████ ████ ███ ██ ██████████ ███████ ██.
██ ████ ███ ████ ██ █ ███ ██ ███████ ████ ends up █████ █ ███████ ██████████.
taking many hours. Sometimes you wonder ████ ████ ████ ███ ████ ████ ██ █████.
Just what is left?
You look to the stars.
███████ ███ ███████ ██ ███ ████████ █████ ███ ██████ ██████ ████ ███ █████████ ██████ ████ ██████ ███ ██████ ██████ █████ ████ ███████ ██ ██████ ████ ███ ██████ ███ ████████████ ████ ██ ███████ ███ ███████████ ███ ████████ ██ █████████ ██ ████████ ███ ████ ████ ███ ███████████ █████ ███ █████
███ full of passionate intensity.
You place your hand on the arch. The symbol, too.
You hesitate.
It doesn't feel right. Why █ ██████ ██ █████? You spend three hours ██████ █████.
█████ precious hours █████████ ███ █████ ███ ████████ ███ ██████.
███ ██ ███ ████ ██ redoing your work.
And it brings you to here again.
You wonder if He finds your hesitation amusing. Have others █████████? Have others hesitated ███ ████?
You inhale. Exhale.
Steel your heart.
So you turn your head to ███. Stare up at Him.
He moves. He █████. He is███████ ██ ███, all teeth.
"What is your answer?"
