The Past Is Never Dead - SCP Foundation

"Siberia is a very large place. And you found something at the first place you started digging?"

« Knowing Good And Evil

Yana Drozdova sat in a windowless cell, and waited.

The walls were covered with off-white paint, old enough that it had started to flake away. The floor was concrete. There was a wooden table and two chairs, all bolted to the floor. The door was locked.

They'd taken everything from her except for the clothes she was wearing, so Yana had had plenty of time to familiarise herself with every detail of the room as she waited quietly within it. After what felt like hours, she heard the door unlock. An older man walked in and took the seat across from her. He dressed smartly, but not in any uniform Yana recognized. He was lean and clean-shaven, with grey hair and a pale, wrinkled face. He clearly didn't spend much time outside.

He greeted her in Russian. "Miss Drozdova! I apologize for keeping you waiting. I'm sure there's been a simple misunderstanding." He sounded sympathetic to her situation, as if he'd be happy to have her sent home as soon as it was all explained. "I'm Radomir Valkov, I'll start by confirming a few details?"

Yana smiled warmly at him, and nodded. She highly doubted that she'd simply be let go - you don't get bundled into an unmarked van simply to be asked a few questions - but there was no reason not to play along for now.

"Your name is Yana Mikhaila Drozdova. You were born in Irkutsk Oblast. Your father is Mikhail Drosdov. Your mother was Helga Koslova. You studied History at the Far Eastern Federal University in Vladivostok." Valkov recited this from memory, staring intently at Yana the entire time.

The intense scrutiny made her uncomfortable, but everything he'd just said about her was true, so she nodded. "I assume you looked that up somewhere?"

Valkov ignored her question. "You were apprehended by… let's just say, by the organization I work for, at a site of archaeological interest. You came to the site alone, bringing your own equipment with you, and proceeded to excavate several artifacts. Given your immediate success, you seemed to know exactly what you were looking for."

Yana wasn't sure how to respond to that.

Valkov smiled. "Miss Drozdova, your cooperation would be appreciated." He paused, then said, "The organization I represent is always recruiting talented young people. Now, I make no promises, but if you know something we don't, we'd be very interested in the sharing of information."

Yana remained suspicious, but this wasn't the first time she'd needed to explain her research. It was clearly too late to remain unnoticed by whatever agency or corporation this man worked for, but there may still be a way out for her.

Slowly, hesitantly, she began to tell the story she'd thought up, the one that lied only through omission. "As you know, I've studied history. The focus of my research has always been on Siberia. Specifically, its history prior to its incorporation into the Russian Empire. Although most historical accounts dismiss the region entirely, at least until the founding of the Mongol Empire, there is evidence that the area was previously the homeland of a far more ancient and advanced civilization."

Valkov sighed loudly. "Is this the Tartarian Empire hypothesis?"

Yana hesitated. She disliked that phrasing, but it was probably safest to go along with it. Now was not the time to worry about being regarded as a crank. "Are you familiar with the work of Mikhael Drugov?"

Valkov nodded. "I am… aware of his work." He did not seem impressed.

Yana was well aware of Drugov's shortcomings - taking the author of Empire of Dirt at his word was only one step up from believing in Ancient Aliens, and he made the mistake of assuming that the rulers of the forgotten ancient empire were Slavic. But for the first time in her life, Yana knew the pragmatic thing to do was to convince everyone that she was a fan. "I realise he makes a lot of speculative claims based on limited evidence, but I thought it was worth investigating further."

Valkov raised a finger to object. "You came all the way out to the middle of Siberia… based on a book that has been discredited by every reputable historian who's dared touch it? I would have expected a student of history to be a little more skeptical!"

Yana shrugged. "Look, I thought if I looked into it further, I could prove him right. And I did!" She nervously put on the wide grin of a true believer.

Valkov looked unconvinced. "You dug up some rubble. A few shards of pottery. It proves nothing."

Yana was defensive, despite her better judgment. "If there's nothing to find, then why am I here?"

Valkov answered with a question. "What exactly did you come here to look for, Miss Drozdova?"

Yana hesitated again. She'd have to be careful not to say too much. "Physical evidence of an… ancient Tartarian civilization. To corroborate the contemporary references to it in Mongolian, Persian and Chinese texts."

Valkov nodded. "I am aware of the documents you describe. I'm not sure if you know that all of the documents Drugov references in Empire of Dirt were later discovered to either be hoaxes, forgeries, or creative mistranslations of original texts."

Yana looked around at the windowless cell she was sitting in. "Did you have something to do with that?" She was pushing her luck, but it would have seemed suspicious to give up too quickly, given that she'd traveled all the way out here…

Valkov calmly said, "That's not what we're here to discuss." He continued, "The texts you refer to are known to us. The real question is how you found the site at which you were digging."

Yana paused again - that was harder to explain. "I made an educated guess at plausible locations for the cities described in those texts."

"Siberia is a very large place. And you found something at the first place you started digging?"

"Well, I did look elsewhere -"

"Do not lie to us. We had you under surveillance."

Yana shrugged. "I guess I just got lucky."

Valkov nodded, but then removed a picture from his pocket, depicting a notebook. It was open, revealing pages filled with Old Daevite script. Yana recognised it immediately. It was hers.

"Miss Drozdova, that was in your backpack. It looks like it was written recently."

"Err… It's just…" She'd forgotten they'd seized that. "Doodling? To relax?"

"Miss Drozdova, I don't think that's true. I recognize this script. Where did you get this from?"

She should have known that he knew more than he was letting on, but a reasonable explanation suddenly occurred to her. "I saw them on… something I dug up. I copied the symbols down. Do you think it's some sort of language?"

Valkov smiled. "We must have missed that object when we catalogued everything you uncovered. How careless of us. You don't happen to know where you left it?"

That lie had obviously been a mistake.

Valkov continued. "While you're thinking about that, perhaps you can explain where you copied these down from?"

He placed more pictures on the table, images that were clearly taken in her apartment in Vladivostok. Her belongings had been searched, and her journals had been opened and photographed. Every page was covered with the same angular writing.

"You've gotten quite a collection of these back at home. We'd really like to know where you got it all down from. Did someone give it to you?"

Yana remained silent. While she sat in this cell, strangers had been rummaging through her private diaries. Her only comfort was that there was no way for them to read the thoughts she'd written down.

"Can you understand us?"

Yana looked back at him in shock. His pronunciation was awful, but Valkov had definitely spoken in the Daevite language. It was the first time in her life that Yana had heard it out loud, and she understood every word.

"Who are you?" she asked, speaking in the same language, but from the look on his face it was clear that he didn't understand what she was saying.

He continued asking her questions, in fluent Russian and in mangled Daevite, but Yana just sat there in silence. He spoke the words as if he had memorized the sounds but couldn't grasp their meaning, and he quickly ran out of phrases to say. Jana felt no obligation to answer, but suddenly felt exposed. If he could speak her language, no matter how crudely, then the people he worked for could probably read it - and that meant that they already knew far too much about her.

"I see you're not in the mood to talk." Valkov began walking out of the room. "I'll have you escorted to a holding cell. I promise they're more comfortable than they sound."

"When will I be getting out of here?" asked Yana, as the door began to close behind him, but there was no reply from her interrogator. She stood up to follow him, but a guard stepped into the doorway behind him, barring her exit from the room until long after Valkov was gone.

It was a long three days before Yana found herself back in the interview room. They'd tried to talk with her again, this time over the intercom system rather than face to face, but it was clear from the long pauses and constant mispronunciations that they had never really spoken Daevite before, and were merely guessing at the correct sounds. They'd tried writing the questions down instead, but it was still clearly the work of amateurs, and Yana had resisted the urge to correct them.

She'd asked for her notes, even offered to explain them, but the guards that brought her food and toiletries refused to discuss why she was there, or when she'd be getting out. Yana expected they wouldn't know anything.

Her last visitor had been a doctor with a needle, wanting to take a blood sample. Yana would have refused, but the two burly guards accompanying him made it clear that she didn't have any choice.

Valkov entered the Interview Room again, and placed the notebook down on the table, open at the center. Every page was covered with the Daevite script she'd written. "A fascinating read."

Yana hesitated. She'd assumed the language was dead to everyone but her, but if they had worked out what it meant… "You can read this?"

"We've done our research."

She could try to pretend it was some sort of cipher of her own creation, but that didn't seem like it would fool them. She tried a more blatant lie. "I don't know what it means. I saw it in some old documents, I was copying it out to try to decode it."

Valkov looked at her with curiosity. "Miss Drozdova, if that's true we would love to see the original."

"I don't have it anymore."

Valkov smiled. "That's a real shame. You see, this seems to be a very personal account of someone's life. Perhaps multiple people. Some of it matches descriptions of the… ancient Siberian Empire we previously discussed. But some of it… well, some of it seems to take place after that empire's fall."

Yana tried to look intrigued, as if this were news to her. "Really? That sounds very interesting."

"Exactly. So we really must know where you got this from. Some passages seem to tie together, but it doesn't seem to be complete. If we could find more… well, that would be of great interest to our historians."

Yana wasn't sure what to say. Should she try and make something up? The beginnings of a plan began to form… "I might be able to lead you to the original inscriptions, but it was a long time ago though. I can't remember exactly where they are, and someone may have moved them -"

"Miss Drozdova, honesty would be appreciated. You wrote all of this down in a dead language, and you must have gotten it from somewhere."

Yana didn't know what to say to that. She couldn't think of any ideas other than the truth.

"You remember that you gave us a blood sample?"

Yana remained in sullen silence as Valkov explained.

"We did some tests. Genome sequencing. Apparently it isn't even expensive these days. Do you know what we found?"

Yana had no idea.

"A surprising similarity to ancient DNA we've recovered from Siberia. There's a lot of very unusual gene variants."

This was news to Yana. Of course, they could just be making this up. She didn't know enough about science to be able to tell whether it would even be possible to know something like that.

"The lab says you must be a direct descendant of… well, I think we both know who."

Yana did, but there was no reason to confirm it.

"We can wait as long as it takes for you to tell the truth."

Yana ignored all further questions. Eventually, Valkov left.

Yana remained in silence for several days after that, complying with the orders she was given without saying a word. Eventually, she found herself transported to a new room, and was told she would be remaining there until further notice. It was more spacious than her initial holding cell. While it had the same bed, desk, chair, sink and toilet, the furniture looked newer and the sheets felt more comfortable. She was told she'd be allowed to request personal items, and even decorate the walls. While this seemed much more accommodating, Yana resented the implication that she would be here for a long time, and should make herself comfortable.

The only thing she asked for - no, demanded - was that they return her journals to her.

She assumed they wouldn't, and pondered how they would respond if she protested her imprisonment by refusing to eat. She decided against it for now, because she doubted they'd hesitate to force-feed her. They clearly wanted her alive, and if were concerned she might harm herself, she could lose what little freedom she had.

While in many ways the experience was exactly how she imagined prison, in other ways it was more like being in hospital. People were constantly coming by to measure and examine her, and ask how she was feeling, and see if there was anything she wanted. Yana ignored them. If they wanted her to talk, they'd have to give her back her notes. It had been her life's work, and she wasn't letting them take it away from her.

After a week, Valkov surprised her again. He knocked at the door, and asked for permission to come in. She ignored him, until he mentioned that her request had been granted, and that he had brought the journals she'd requested with him. Yana said, "Come in."

Valkov brought a large stack of paper into her room, and placed it on her desk.

"I'm afraid they insisted on keeping the originals. But we have it all scanned, and so we were able to give you a copy of everything."

Yana quickly flicked through years of her own writings. While she'd written it all from memory, without a physical copy she knew that she'd begin to lose track of details over time. She was surprised, and a little unsettled to discover that they didn't just have the notes she'd left in her apartment in Vladivostok - they also had the notes she'd left with her father, in her family home near Krasnoyarsk. She recognised her younger self's childish scrawl, and felt embarrassed at the thought of men like Valkov reading through it, looking for clues about her.

Valkov turned to leave. "Miss Drozdova, we'd be very interested in what you have to say about the contents of these journals. If you feel like talking."

Yana pointedly ignored him, and instead began reading.

"Those writings clearly mean a lot to you. We find them interesting as well, so your silence is frustrating. While the past may have a lot to say, you cannot have a conversation with it. When you're ready to discuss this further, let us know."

He stood up, and left.

"You called?"

Valkov was back, this time at her request. It had been a week since her last meeting with him.

Yana knew she was being manipulated. He was very good at seeming like the kind and sympathetic face of whatever organisation had imprisoned her. But she hadn't had a real conversation in a very long time.

"Can we talk?" Yana hated how pathetic her voice sounded, and tried again. "What I mean is, I'm willing to discuss my records. You have questions about them, and… I may as well answer them. While I'm here."

Valkov smiled. "That's great to hear. They were beginning to become concerned about you. Containment can be difficult to adjust to."

Yana didn't like the implication that she was beginning to get used to her imprisonment, but followed him to another room, bringing the copies of her more recent notes with here. She'd left the older ones behind with her father for a reason - the important parts had been copied over to her newer journals, and her awkward handwriting made her first drafts almost unreadable.

The room was clearly designed for interviews, with a table and two chairs, but was much more comfortable than wherever she'd been previously. Valkov waited until she was seated on the cushioned chair, then sat down opposite her once again. "This is Interview Number Three, with CPOI-140-26." He turned to her, as an aside. "That's short for Contained Person of Interest.

Yana nodded. "Yana Drozdova. Prisoner, held here against my will."

Valkov frowned, but seemed amused. "That's generally assumed."

Yana smiled. "I think it's worth noting."

Valkov took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. "So, how would you describe the contents of the journals you've been keeping?"

Yana figured that at this point, the truth was the only hand she had to play. It felt like a betrayal, even though there was nobody left alive to betray. "They're my memories."

Valkov raised an eyebrow at that, smiling. "If that's true, you've lead a much more eventful life than our research would suggest!"

Yana shook her head. "They're my memories now. But they once belonged to others."

Valkov nodded. "So… how did you become aware of other people's memories?"

Yana shrugged. "Sometimes I dream them. Sometimes I see something that reminds me. Sometimes it's a little of both, and writing it down helps me remember more."

"You remember." He gestured at her stack of notes. "So, you believe this all happened?"

"I recall being there. More clearly than my own childhood."

"Memory can be deceptive, Miss Drozdova."

"That's why I write as much down as possible. To refer back to."

"That's not what I meant. Some of the things here strain credibility."

Yana shrugged, hoping they wouldn't believe her. "So I'm delusional?"

Valkov shook his head. "I don't think you're delusional. Too much has been corroborated by our own records of the Daevite Empire." This was the first time he'd used the word "Daevite" in her presence, but it was no surprise he knew it. He gestured at the paper again, pages and pages of the Daevite script. "Why do you even want to record all of this? There are things in here that most people would rather forget."

"Like what?"

"War. Human sacrifice. Cannibalism. Abuse."

Yana shrugged. "We can't forget it. Mother tried. Grandmother too. It didn't work."

"We… your family? And you took a different approach?"

Valkov, or the people he worked for, would have done their research into her background. She didn't have to tell them that her mother had drank heavily, and eventually hanged herself. They probably also knew her grandmother spent most of her life in a Soviet mental institution.

Yana nodded. "The worst memories are the hardest to forget. Writing them down… actually helps. I remember other things as well. Studying history… that brought back more memories, but it also put them into context. I finally understood how they all fit together."

"And that lead you to amateur archaeology?"

"I thought that having something I could hold in my hand would be evocative. Bring back even more." Yana paused. "I wouldn't have done it if I'd known you'd be there."

Valkov smiled. "We keep our own investigations very well concealed. For reasons that I am not yet permitted to disclose. But the Foundation I work for does hold many Daevite artifacts. Perhaps the only such collection in the world. We may be able to come to some arrangement - assuming you can be trusted, of course."

That was how they would be playing this. An exchange of information. She would have to be careful not to say too much. Digging up rubble and shards of pottery hadn't brought back any new memories, but the fact that she'd known exactly where to dig was all the proof she needed to know that they really did all happen. But if they were able to show her something more evocative… well, the exciting thing was that she had no idea what memories it might bring back.

Valkov paused, as if expecting a reply from her. When Yana remained silent, he moved on. "So, in your own words, what is your connection to the Daevite Empire? How can you remember things that happened before you were born?"

Yana tried to find a way to put it into words they would understand. "I inherited the memories of my mother. She inherited memories from her own mother, so I get those as well. And her mother, and her mother, and so on. It's not like I can recall everything, that would be too much, but the significant events are easy to remember."

Valkov thought for a moment. "To clarify - you claim to be a direct descendant of a Daevite?"

Yana smiled. "I remember being the daughter of a…" She struggled for a moment, searching for the closest equivalent of the title in Russian. A queen? A priestess? "A Daevite Matriarch. Actually, I remember being many daughters, of many mothers, for hundreds of years. Maybe thousands? It's hard to keep track of time when memories go back so far. But even after the empire fell for the final time, our daughters - my mothers - we still remembered."

"Always daughters?" asked Valkov.

Yana realized, for the first time, how unusual that was. "Yes. Always daughters."

Valkov moved on. "How exactly did you gain the ability to recall these memories?"

Yana struggled to think of a way to explain this - she'd known from an early age that it was best not to mention it. "It's not any more difficult than remembering something that happened in my own lifetime. I just need a reminder."

Valkov paused. "How much did your mother recall? More than you, or about the same?"

With some pride, Yana said "Less. She never studied history. She didn't keep notes as detailed as mine. And she never dug anything up." More quietly, Yana added, "She tried to forget. To avoid ending up like her own mother. Not that it helped, in the end."

Valkov nodded slowly. "So, you can recall events that happened prior to your birth? Can you tell me more?"

"Don't you already have my notes? I wrote down all the important memories already."

Valkov paused before replying. "They are quite obviously… your notes. Clearly, they were written as a reminder to you rather than as an explanation for others. They are also written in a dead language that we've pieced together from very limited sources. There are many words and phrases we do not recognize, and many more we don't understand. If you could translate and expand on those passages… well, I make no promises, but we could show you some of the objects we have. More texts from the ancient Daevites, and several fascinating artifacts that survived surprisingly intact. We can see if those remind you of anything."

Yana nodded, and rummaged through the copies of her journals until she found the one she was looking for. She opened it at page one. This was not the oldest memory she could recall, but it was one of the most vivid. She dreamed it often, so often that the terror it originally evoked had faded, leaving only a deep sense of loss. "Would you be interested in hearing about the Fall of Daevon?"

Valkov definitely seemed intrigued. "Of course, but can you be more specific? From our own research, it seems that the Daevite Empire rose and fell multiple times."

"This would be the final time."

Valkov listened with obvious interest as Yana began reading from her notes, translating it from Daevite to Russian. It still hurt to revisit, like opening up an old wound, but it felt satisfying at the same time. Like peeling off a scab.

"The conquering army came on horseback, the Mongol Horde led by the Great Khan. We, the proud Daeva, refused to submit to barbarians. Our armies outnumbered theirs, and our priestesses held more power than any of their shamans. But even with all the power of our prayer and prophesy, they outmaneuvered our armies on the field, as if their victory was ordained by fate."

"The mother of my mothers, a Matriarch's youngest daughter, was sequestered in Daevon and did not witness this in person, but the reports we heard from the front lines made it clear that our situation was dire. Our defeat was inevitable, no matter how hard we fought against it, and the mother of my mothers understood this far more clearly than her elders. In the wisdom that comes from fear, she fled Daevon before it was surrounded."

Radomir Valkov listened with interest. He'd read a rough translation of her notes already, but Yana's voice infused the words with emotion - sorrow, fear, and a world-weariness far beyond her years.

"The mother of my mothers took nothing of value with her, for that would weigh her down. She cast aside the robes of a highborn Daeva, and instead wore the clothes of a common slave. She convinced the guards at the gates that she had been sent out of the city by her mistress on an important task. She promised them that she would soon return to the safety supposedly offered by the walls of Daevon. She never did. As far as I know, none who remained in that city survived."

"She hoped to find others who had fled, or if that failed, to disappear into the wilderness and live in hunger like an animal. For a day and night, it seemed she might succeed. But when she heard the hooves behind her, she knew that she could not escape."

"She expected the warrior to kill her, and with no escape available, she resigned herself to her fate. But she was clad in rags and covered in sweat, and so he did not recognize who she was. Exhausted and afraid, she could not resist him, and she was taken as his slave." Yana paused, unable to forget but unwilling to speak it aloud. "He was not entirely without pity. When she became pregnant with his child, he took her as his wife."

There were some things that still hurt to remember, even centuries after they happened.

"Miss Drozdova, if you'd like to stop -"

Yana shook her head. "It was a long time ago. The wound has healed, even if the scar remains. I can tell you that the mother of my mothers then gave birth to a daughter, and never spoke a word to her about the things she had seen and suffered. She didn't have to. Her child recalled everything, up to the moment of her own birth."

Valkov remained silent for a long time. "So, that was how you remember the Fall of Daevon?"

"I'm sorry I can't provide any details of the battle. I remember going to great lengths to not be present as it happened."

Valkov nodded. "I'm surprised you chose to share this specifically. It sounds like a particularly painful memory."

Yana thought for a moment. She'd probably revealed more than she should have, but it had been the story she'd wanted to tell someone. "When I think back, the greatest despair was not felt on that day. Daevon had fallen before, to civil strife and to conquering armies, and each time it had risen again. The mother of my mothers remembered the past as well, and she had that hope to cling to, at first." Yana remembered sharing that hope as a child, before she knew better.

"But the Great Khan ordered his men to leave no survivors in the city of Daevon, to reduce it to rubble and ash, so that even the name might be forgotten. Until recently, I assumed he had succeeded. I thought there was nothing left but wild and inaccurate speculation, aside from my own memories. So far, it has been little comfort to discover that there are others who remember Daevon." She directed that last comment towards Valkov, and whoever it was that he worked for.

Valkov looked uncomfortable. He'd clearly hoped they were now on better terms. "Miss Drozdova, I understand we haven't made the best first impression on you. But I promise you, we do have great interest in what you have to tell us."

Yana smiled back at him. "If you want me to keep talking, I'm going to need more information about what you already know about my people. To make sure I explain our history in terms you can understand."

Valkov hesitated. "I'll need to discuss that with my superiors. Perhaps we should finish here for today. We'll need some time to cross-reference your account with our own records."

Yana leaned forward in her chair, speaking with a confidence she hadn't felt for a long time. "Check all you want. I know it's true. I should be the one assessing you for accuracy."

She'd lived her whole life fearing that something like this would happen, but perhaps this situation came with its own benefits. There was power in being the only living witness.

Hid From The Presence »

The Last Daughter of Daevon »»