I Did Not Fade - SCP Foundation

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10/10/2057

Vanguard Research and Preservation Site-120, New Częstochowa, Poland

Everything dies. That's a fact.

For years, the Foundation rejected that message, believing itself to be an organization that will stand strong for as long as humanity will; a silent observer, devoid of change, coldly and heartlessly protecting it from the shadows as it had always had. And perhaps, when the Impasse came, there was a reality in which that might have even been true. But it wasn't this one; with strange times, change came eventually.

In the waking days of the new world, the Foundation died too — abandoned and left behind like the wreck of the olden days it was. Dead and forgotten, that's how it would be remembered for the times to come.

But death doesn't always mean the end.

Reformed by the newly found strength and alliances, Vanguard rose from the ashes of the now long-gone Foundation, realizing the mistakes of its predecessor and wishing to fix them. It had one goal in mind — to not waste the chance to fix things the world had given it. And so, it did everything in its capacity to not waste it.

Nonetheless however, everything has to some day end. No matter its status, importance, validity, or truth — the inevitable end of everything will one day come for everyone.

On 10/10/2057, Dr. Daniel Robert Alliston-Asheworth woke up, realizing that truth.

His time has come.

He never wanted to go in pain. It wasn't like he feared death, no, but there was a certain unease the thought of growing old and living in pain gave him. To not think of it, he postponed it as long as he could with magic, but he'd always known he couldn't run away forever. And, on that day, he knew the race was over.

But that race would end the way he said it would.

"Despite the fact magic quite literally runs the world, we don’t understand it at all." Asheworth could swear someone once said those words. He liked to think it wasn't just his imagination, because, at a certain depth, those words resonated with him like nothing else had ever had.

Esterberg was the confirmation of that thesis, he thought. For years, he had to see the world the city offered be locked away behind highly classified documents, dimensional locks, and disinformation campaigns. But the truth of its existence no longer had to be feared.

On his final day, he'd always known he'd want to once again become lost among its endless streets, buildings, and people. But he never thought he'd only need to exit the Site he'd run with the other Directors for over seventy years — and alone for more than twenty — to experience its wonders.

The merged city was beautiful like it had never been. Even if he'd seen the two worlds of the previously separated Esterberg and Częstochowa, now brought together as one place, almost every day ever since the Vanguard O5 Vote passed in 2021, today's view it offered was… somehow different. He felt separated from it, like a formless observer gazing at its wonders through which humans, Night's Children, and the Forest Folk walked together, finally, for the first time in their entire existence, not caring for their differences. The streets were once again full of life and happiness like some lost paradise, ideally fitting into the city brimming with nature and peace that it was.

And, as rain started to pour from above the magic-filled skies of New Częstochowa, he smiled, knowing the effort he'd put into this place wasn't a waste.

Daniel had never liked saying goodbye, to nobody and no one. Even with his greatest enemies, there was a certain… sadness of letting go, no matter how much he wanted it in the first place. But today, he knew he had to say goodbye to certain people. He owed them that much.

The rain turned into an all-out downpour as he finally found his destination among the green paths of Site-120's park. Jeremy Cornwell, Jessie Rivera, Magdalaine Cornwell, Ethan MacCarthy Jr.. Those were the names of the people laying in the graves before him — the names of people he'd called friends for more than half a decade before they too said goodbye. Ever since he had burned up his past, Daniel had never had a family. But these were the family he chose, and they chose him.

He sat there, quietly, as lighting illuminated the sky, thinking of everything they had done together. They had a good run, he thought. He once again smiled, realizing how lucky he was he had them. They'd be so proud of what they've done together, if they could just see what 120 had become. Looking at them for one final time, with a heavy heart, Daniel said one final goodbye.

The Wanderers' Library always stood up to its name; no matter if you spelled it correctly or not, be it the library of those that wondered or those that wandered, it always delivered to both as the beautiful place many called home it was. Ages ago, Daniel too has called that place his home; but there was no use dwelling on those days. They were the thoughts of the old millennium.

Quietly and calmly, with few moves of his hands, he opened the portal to that place for one final time. You'd think after so many years of practice, it'd be like breathing, but, there he was — a one-hundred-year-old thaumaturgist, still having problems with a simple spell like that. Even if it was either due to the fact he really was getting old or the fact he'd never been the prodigy he thought he was, he didn't really like either of those thoughts.

It was… full of wonders, that was the best way to put it. Among its endless bookshelves and corridors, the Library was finally full of people — even if most of the people there weren't people — wanting to use the knowledge it offered for peace, not war. The paper dragons once more roamed free, happy their Promise was kept, finally in a place of Fantasy. Daniel could swear they were much larger than what they had been when he last saw them, but it might just as well be him imagining things.

Silently, he made his way towards the Guest Book he'd always wanted to leave a note in, and, with a few moves of his pen, he finally did what he'd always wanted to.

The magic of this place is just as beautiful as the day I left.

Take care.

— An old friend

The storm was over. He could feel it, even with his closed eyes.

The top of the Tatry Mountains was colder than he thought it would be — but, if he was honest, with his age, he should have known not to take things for granted. But it didn't really matter now anyways.

Inhaling the evening air around himself, he opened his eyes, ready to greet the end. At the end of the horizon, there was a single rainbow, standing strong despite the night coming. It was a nice sight to go away to, he thought, as he took one final sip of tea from the hot cup beside him.

And, as the final sunset fell down the horizon, he smiled, whispering "And so again we shall meet," and went gently into that good night, closing his eyes.

Even if the people that ran Vanguard searched for the man that became the sole director of their 120th building, they found nothing. He just disappeared without a trace, one rainy day. They searched everywhere, from the green buildings of the newly reformed Poland to the icy deserts of their Antarctic Sites — but there was nothing. Nothing, no matter where they looked.

Nothing, aside from one singular note found on his desk on the day he'd run away.

I did not die,

I did not fade,

Instead went away a path I'd made;

Should odd days come where what we've built

At last stands free of our shared guilt,

Remember the wrongs we've once stood for,

To never herald them no more.

Thank you. For everything.