experienced in fighting, and at the ripe age of 39, Sir Ando had 
never actually encountered a demon like those described in the 
Scripture. He had once witnessed the Ceremony of the Clockworks, 
but that was his closest to a truly supernatural circumstance. How 
would he fare when he stood face-to-face with the Children of the 
River and the monstrous things that had been known to fight 
alongside them - men, animals, monsters, great creatures of steel 
that supposedly rose fully-formed from cauldrons of blood like an 
unholy homunculus? Reaching under his tunic, he caressed the St. 
Dmitri's medallion he wore. St. Dmitri, prince among soldiers, he 
prayed to himself, grant me courage to face the trials ahead. Grant 
that my hand be quick and steady, that my sword strike true, and 
that my shield be as steady and resilient as my heart. Guide me to 
victory as you guided your knights against the Chechan hordes in 
ancient times - and if it is my appointed time to fall, then grant me a 
quick, honorable, and noble death, and in death, grant me 
satisfaction and rest. Amen. 


Sir Ando grabbed the reins tighter, pulling his head down as dust 
flew up around him as he rode towards Reaforten. 


"You believe they wish to prevent the Great Breach through the use 
of the Yellow Book, Lord?" 


"That's one way of putting it." 


The First Cardinal shifted uncomfortably in his seat, sweat soaking 
his undershirt. Even the patron, founder, and Overseer of all the 
Holy Foundation, Lord Bright Himself, expressed fear at the notion 
of the Yellow Book re-emerging. 


"I'm afraid the Holy Foundation does not... currently... have the 
means to search for the Yellow Book, and the Scripture is 
incomplete on containment, Lord," he said hesitantly. "However, the 
Children of the River are not to be trifled with. Their leaders are 
masters of summoning hellish beings, and the rest of the Council 
has yet to recognize them as a serious heathenish threat worthy of a 
Holy Crusade." 


"The people who made the Yellow Book are worse than that. Even 


when everything they touched had been destroyed, One-Forty made 
more. If you let them get a hold of it, holy water and kissing a crucifix 
won't do shit." 


"We believe it is lost to the ages, Lord, or else hidden beyond our 
reach. There have been rumors that the Children of the River have 
been conducting activities in County Reaforten—perhaps they have 
knowleage of its whereabouts that we do not. We have dispatched 
the Order of Kondraki to search the county, and to take action if they 
hear any news of it. However, we unfortunately do find this scenario 
quite unlikely.” 


"Well, when you find it, let me know." 
"| would be honored to." 


A guard entered cautiously from the side of the room. Approaching 
the chained man, he bowed, keeping his head down as he 
outstretched his hand with an ornate goblet. 


"Here is your drink, my Lord," the guard said. "/ fear that the keeper 
of the cellars was unfamiliar with the 'vodka' you requested, but he 
assures me that this is the finest of this season's ale." 


"It'll have to do." 


There were more of them now; twenty-seven in all, all Knights of the 
Order of Kondraki, the best of County Reaforten. It had only been 
hours since they rode in formation through the gates of the city away 
from the sun as it rose behind them, the western foothills, their 
destination, looming ominously in the distance. From what Sir Ando 
had learned, a freeholder of the county had seen strange men 
coming and going from an old mine near his farmland and crept into 
the cave after dark to investigate. He stumbled upon a demonic altar 
within, slipped on a rock, and cut himself. He claimed to witness the 
final page turn without being touched as the blood drained from his 
hand and flew to the book. He ran screaming from the tunnel, hastily 
informing the nearest pastor. In accordance with the Scripture, he 
was sanctified with Class-A holy water by Father Ires and released. 
Disappointingly, none of the Reaforteners he had encountered were 


able (or willing, perhaps) to impart his location to Sir Ando, so an 
interview was out of the question. 


It was past noon when they arrived at the entrance to the mine. A 
crude palisade had been erected around the entrance. Men wearing 
green and white, the colors of Duke Augons of Reaforten, watched 
from above the barricade, training their bows as the horsemen drew 
near. The knights trotted their horses in a circle surrounding Sir 
Ando, and he called to the men. 


"Open these gates, in the name of the Duke!" 


Sir Ando quickly showed Dom Maski's decree to the guard, who 
obligingly opened the barricade. The knights dismounted and tied 
their horses up as he informed them that none had come or gone 
from the mine since they began watching the entrance a fortnight 
ago, but that strange sounds had been heard emanating from below 
and none of his men were brave enough to enter. 


"This is what we train for, men," Sir Ando said. "The Yellow Book 
might be in there—and who knows what else. Stay on your guard, 
keep your weapons sheathed unless absolutely necessary, and if 
you so much as stub your toe or scratch your knuckles, fall back and 
don't touch anything. Let's get in and out as fast as we can. For 
Kondraki!" 


The gruff men raised their swords high in the air. "For Kondraki!" Sir 
Ando kissed his crucifix, muttered a prayer, and walked 
determinedly towards the opening. Taking in hand the torches the 
guardsmen had prepared, they descended into the mine. 


"You ever wondered why we're here?" 

The Cardinal sat silent. 

"| don't either. By all means, we should be dead. Gone. Kaput. Not a 
single soul left. And yet, we're not. Somehow, some way, humanity 
is still chugging along, against the odds." 


"Ye-yes, Lord Bright, it appears so—" 


"It clicked with me the day | heard that Site Four's nuke had gone 
off, minutes after Fifty-Eight got out. It was the middle of the day, 
and not a single person was evacuated. Too little time. There wasn't 
enough time." 


"In my moment of clarity, | realized whyyyyy there was never 
enough time. We had used it up! It's not an easy feeling to deal with, 
knowing that you're living on borrrrrrowed time, because it means 
that the Universe has every right to rip your life from you and you 
should be grateful, damnit. Your sisterrrr's dead, and the next day 
she's not? No! She's good as dead, because we've aaaall made a 
cruel deal with God to give her extra time, and there's no knowing 
when, or why, she'll die. All you get is connnndolence that it 
happened later than it ‘should’ have. It's adamn miracle we're even 
here, but we're scared to death of nnnnnot being." 


"You know most of what happened durrrring the Breach; the 
universe was truly falling apart. Debris was crushing us, destroying 
us and itself in the most... pure... moment of chaos. And yet, we 
didn't die. Crazy! | know." 


"Lord Bright, if | may, we had God on our side, aiding us during the 
Great Breach." 


"| sure think so. But we're on borrowed time! One-Fortttty, the Yellow 
Book, if someone blew their brains out right on top of the thing, and 
the world was pllllunged into darkness, I'd think 'Damn! At least it 
didn't happen earlier!’ Haha, wow! Is that really what the worrrrld's 
given to us? We spent centuries safeguarding, protecting, studying 
the screwups that God left to hang out in our yard, and they nearly 
destroyed us! Centuries. Just, to say 'We ever-so-slightly avoided 
dying, guysssss. Good... fucking... job!" 


With the final effort of the last sentence, the D-Caste slumped over, 
descending into a drunken unconsciousness. The guard entered a 
second time, removing the amulet and carefully placing it in its 
container. 


They had explored the whole mine, and there was no altar. Nothing 
unusual at all. Not a single sign of the Yellow Book, or the Children 


on the River. 
"Maybe they already got to it?" asked one of the knights. 


"If they did, we'd know," Sir Ando replied despondently. "It's likely 
that our witness was drunk, or delusional, or both." Worn out, he 
trudged back up towards the light. The other knights followed suit. 


It was not until six weeks later that Augons, eighth Count of 
Reaforten, was lead from his manor in shackles by Sir Ando and his 
men. From an anonymous tip, knights rushed into Lady Emile 
Lament's mansion, discovering files of payments from known Chaos 
Insurgency leaders, as well as the names of over two hundred spies 
on the payroll within the city. The captain of the guard, when put to 
the question, gave the names of dozens who had been ordered to 
carry strange objects into the mine under cover of darkness, and let 
themselves be seen taking them out the next day. Even Father lres 
was executed. 


Of the Yellow Book, and the Children of the River themselves, no 
sign could be found. 


Vos tantum currere in circulis donec te trinus. 


Places Where the Birds Don't Cry 


eh 
| woke up late again today... | really should start setting 
an alarm or something. Doc Rhodes was pretty pissed 
off, said I'm the worst secretary he's ever seen. That old 
man's told me that every day for three years now. 
When's he gonna lighten up? At least the work is easy. 


He's been studying a bunch of papers and stuff from one 
of his patients' home. A guy called Raul Sounder, went 
crazy and killed a bunch of people. Said he was on some 
kind of ‘quest for meaning’, whatever that is. He had this 
weird obsession with the number eighteen. Rhodes 
called it the worst case of something called 'Pareidolia' 
he'd ever seen. Helluvva word, pareidolia. Anyway, | 
should go to sleep. That damn crow kept me awake all 
night... | really wish | could live in places where the birds 
don't cry all night and keep me up. 


ey 


I've never understood why people start off entries like 
this with ‘dear diary’. It seems so stupid to pretend I'm 
doing anything other than writing in a notebook. 


Anyway, it was a fairly good day today, light workload, 
just a few patients. Doctor Rhodes had me file a whole 
bunch of the Sounders stuff away, though, so it wasn't 
exactly a break. It's the oddest thing, those papers had 
this... stuffon them, not like dust exactly, but some kinda 
powder, like they'd been stored in a room full of the stuff. 
It gives the pages an odd texture, makes them feel 
strange. | got a pretty nasty papercut on one, too. It's 
swollen, looks infected. 


At any rate, time for sleep. That fucking crow had better 
not wake me up again. | wish | could live in places where 
the birds don't cry at all hours of the night... Huh, | said 
that last night, too. 'places where the birds don't cry’. 
Kinda poetic. | like it. 


fey 
So, today was boring. 


Rhodes was acting kinda strange, though. He kept 
babbling about the red light at the intersection around the 
corner from the building changing faster than the others. 
He would walk over and stick his head out the window to 
try and catch it changing. Ah, well, old guys like him are 
bound to develop a few eccentricities eventually, right? 
Go figure. 


Oh! Also, | told one of the patients, an english teacher, 
about how I'd come up with that fun phrase 'Places 
where the birds don't cry'. She said she thought it would 
make a good title for a book or short story or something. 
| was kinda hoping for a better reaction. It is really poetic. 
places where the birds don't cry. Ha, a novel by Susan 
James. 


Anyway, | need to go to bed soon. | kinda hope the crow 
outside is loud tonight, so | can complain about not 
sleeping in places where the birds don't cry. 


fea 
Doctor Rhodes is dead. 


That traffic light he was freaking out over? He went out 
sometime late last night and hung himself from it. The 
police have been questioning me all day, 'what did he act 
like?’ 'Did he seem all right?'. | told them he'd been 
talking about that light being off and it really bothered 


him, and they hmmd a bit and wrote it down, and that 
damn crow kept making noise the whole time. | told one 
of the cops about how unlucky he was to have to sleep in 
places where the birds don't cry, and he looked at me 
like I'd said something really strange. Some people, huh? 


Anyway, I'm proud of my new pet phrase. places where 
the birds don't cry. places where the birds don't cry. 
places where the birds don't cry. Hey, if you say it like 
that, it sounds kinda important, doesn't it? 


Anyway, time for bed. I'm so glad | don't have to live in 
places where the birds don't cry. 


ae 


| really need to get a job, but | don't want to leave the 
apartment. The crow outside is so comforting... I'm 
almost scared to go to places where the birds don't cry... 
Dunno what I'll do come winter. Fly south, | suppose. 


ia. 
Places where the birds don't cry. 


bok 
The crow never made a noise last night. I'm worried. All 
night, | tossed and turned, waiting for that screeching 
caw to lull me to sleep, and it never came. | don't want to 
be trapped in places where the birds don't cry. 


fog 
Places where the birds don't cry. Places where the birds 
don't cry. Places where the birds don't cry. Places where 
the birds don't cry. places where the birds don't cry. 
places where the birds don't cry. places where the birds 
don't cry places where the birds don't cry places where 
the birds don't cry places where the birds don't cry 


sentient. 


Name: Dr. Joe 

Date: 03/13/18 

Total Items: Three (3) White Paper origami swans 
weighing 29g each. 


Input: One (1) Paper swan 

Setting: Rough 

Output: One (1) Crumpled piece of white paper 
weighing 29g 


Input: One(1) Paper Swan 

Setting: 1:1 

Output: One (1) Paper "fortune teller" popular with 
young schoolchildren with no writing on it weighing 29g. 


Input: One (1) Paper Swan 

Setting: Fine 

Output: One (1) paper model of Cygnus buccinator 
(trumpeter swan) the size and mass of the original 
Origami swan. However this model is entirely 
anatomically correct to Cygnus buccinator in every way, 
with some organ systems being made of seemingly 
impossibly thin layers of paper. The model displays no 
anomalous properties. 


Note: Interesting. 914 created a model of my personal 
favorite species of swan from the original paper one. 
Sentience or coincidence? | need to do more tests, but 
first make sure that model is saved in Fragile Non- 
Anomalous Item Storage, it could be useful at a later 
Cate. -Dr. Joe 


Name: Dr. O’Bryan 

Date: 03/25/18 

Total Items: Three (3) different pieces of communication 
on paper medium. 


places where the birds don't cry places where the birds 

don't cry places where the birds don't cry places where 

the birds don't cry 
placeswherethebirdsdon'tcryplaceswherethebirdsdon'tcryplaceswhere 
don'tcry 
placeswherethebirdsdon'tcryplaceswherethebirdsdon'tcryplaceswhere 
don'tcryplaceswherethebirds don'tcryplaceswherethe 
birdsdon'tcryplaceswhere thebirds 
don'tcryplaceswherethebirdsdon'tcryplaceswherethebirds 
don'tcryplaceswherethebirds don'tcry 
don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon- 

( Continues for several pages. -Dr. __) 


Researcher's note: 


The Foundation acquired the diary of Susan James a short time 
after her apparent suicide. A neighbor noticed that she had not left 
her home for several days and phoned local police, who arrived to 
find that she had [DATA EXPUNGED] repeated several times. The 
particulars of the case, and its potential association with the Rhodes 
incident brought it to Foundation attention, and all files pertaining to 
Miss James were closed. Item number SCP-E-  -2, the 'Sounder 
Papers' were taken in for analysis. 


Addendum: All researchers handling item SCP-E- -2 must wear 
full hazardous materials protective gear. We can't afford another 
[REDACTED] 


Two birds with one stone. 


Planetfall