Stuart's eyes lit up instantly. "Wait, we're getting to the fun parts?" 


If she had lips, Clovis would have smiled; that was it. "Yes, but for 
my own sake of mind, let me make sure you know the common 
components. Could you please recite them?" 


He practically blurted out the answers. "Mercury, sulfur, gold, silver, 
iron, copper, salt, organics, and tin." 


"And what are organics?" 


"Mostly sugar, wood, blood, bone, and skin, but it's really anything 
from plant matter to meat. If it is or was alive, it counts. It is different 
from the other components in that it isn't so much a single 
component, but a category. Each component's properties in this 
category are reliant on the source, and are commonly used to alter 


living things over generations, conduits, and summoning... Things. It 
varies. It's most effective in botany and animal breeding. In my case, 
I'm mostly going to be using it so | can use my hands as an outlet." 


"And what are you not going to do with this component?" 


He rolled his eyes, and placed his hands in his pockets. "Summon 
any otherworldly beings, friendly or not, without your permission." 


"Good." Clovis gave a sigh of relief. "I'm proud of you Stuart; really, | 
am. You absorbed this information rather well. One thing though: 
while it can be very convenient to use your hands to carry out a 
action, | would not rely on it entirely. The outcome can be crude, and 
sometimes you'll need something with a greater range or more 
force, like an instrument or maybe a slingshot or wooden sword. You 
should keep it simple for now." 


Stuart gave her a blank stare. 


"Okay, I'm sorry, I'm done rambling. | just wanted to make sure 
you're approaching this safely. Let's go out to the garden and see 
how you fare in pract-" 


And with that, Stuart grabbed Clovis's arm and led her out back, 
who was repeatedly telling Stuart to slow down all the while. The two 
made their way to a clearing and sat on the lush, green grass. 


"So, let's begin with something called 'marking'. To put it into 
perspective, marking is to the arcane as a quill is to writing. May | 
see your hands?" 


As he presented his hands to her, she turned them over to show his 
palms. For a brief moment, they felt like pins and needles before 
turning to a soothing warm. 


"Do you know why no one around nowadays is going around 
throwing spells?" 


"No." 


"It's because no one truly knows how, not even me. Learning how to 
perform an arcane act is like learning a habit. The best way | can 


describe it is that each person has their own, wildly different 
approach to it, and whenever someone tries to teach it to someone 
else, the teacher's methods almost never agree with the student's. It 
can get pretty confusing. There are some beings who are just born 
knowing, or things that are easy to teach with a little push. This is 
because they were meant to. But then there're people who need to 
actively learn, because they don't really need to to survive. What I've 
just done for you is give you the arcane equivalent of training 
wheels... You aren't keeping it by the way, this is just here for the 
next half-hour." 


Clovis looked over to the side. "Actually, speaking of, | have a 
present for you. Look behind the tree!" she said playfully, pointing 
towards the large willow tree a short distance away. "Well go on!" 
she said encouragingly. 


Curious, Stuart stood up to retrieve it. He peered around the tree, 
and found a tall, thin gift box, roughly the size of his arm propped up 
against it. 


"Don't open it from there! | want to see you open it!" Clovis said from 
afar. He grabbed the box and hurried over, genuinely happy for once 
in a long while. 


She continued as he began to open the box: "Remember when | 
said that using a sort of... Phylactery? Well... | got one for you!" 


As the lid slowly slid off and released its vacuum, he looked inside to 
see an ornate wood sword lying on top of a leather sheath. There 
was a Satisfying weight to the toy as he picked it up by the hilt and 
turned it over, inspecting it. 


"| picked it out for you, | really hope you like it! | was thinking | could 
teach you how to mark it, then how to use it, and then when we're 
done, I'll render it inert. That way, you can get a feel for it, and just 
come to me and ask whenever you want to practice." 


"|- I'm at a loss for words," he said, clearly overwhelmed. 


"Think nothing of it, sweetie," she said cheerfully. 


worn. 


TEST: D-3118 (armed with 30 cm (12 in) knife) and 
D-3119 (armed with pistol) ordered to attack D-3126. 
D-3119 ordered to drop weapon before contact. 
RESULT: SCP-912 moved towards D-class subjects as 
soon as weapons exposed. D-3119 initial focus of 
attention until weapon dropped, at which point SCP-912 
attacked D-3118, who is disarmed violently. D-3118 right 
hand and forearm suspected fractured. Right index finger 
amputated in struggle. D-3119 initially resists "arrest" by 
SCP-912 and has both shoulders dislocated during 
restraint procedure. Test halted and D-class personnel 
removed for medical treatment. 

COMMENT: SCP-912 places greater emphasis upon 
guns than melee weapons. Finer insight into the threat 
hierarchy is achievable but would involve needless waste 
of D-class personnel. 


Testing of SCP-912 in a SWAT style tactical environment is 
currently ongoing. Agents and have prior SWAT team 
experience and are preparing appropriate scenarios on behalf of Dr 


« SCP-911 | SCP-912 | SCP-913 » 


"No, this i- this is the first toy anyone's ever given me. It's the only..." 
There was a brief pause, then suddenly, Clovis felt a tight squeeze 
around her midsection. She didn't even process that Stuart was 
hugging her until she looked down towards him. 


It was a long time before either of them let go. 


"Ahem... Thank you. | love it; | absolutely love it," Stuart said as he 
composed himself. 


"l- I'm glad." 
"You, um... wanted to teach me how to mark it?" 


"Oh, right. Um. All you have to do is apply pressure to the spot your 
want to mark, then focus on the symbol you want to place on that 
spot. That mark | put on your hands should take care of the rest." 


"Using a mark to place a mark?" 


"That's the gist of it, though you won't be using that forever. Now, | 
already placed a spell on this so you can practice with it, so, if we 
place a trigger on it..." 


"It'll go off?" 


"When you press it to, yes. So, be careful where you point it. 
Actually, let me stand behind you so | can show you how to aim," 
she said, positioning herself. 


"Alright. Like this?" 
"Yes. Do you need help with setting up the trigger?" 
"No, | think | got it... there. What now?" 


"Hold it with both hands, and keep the blade pointed towards the 
sky. When you're ready, grip the handle tightly, and focus on where 
you want to shoot. When you're ready, s-" 


Then, a loud boom, followed by streams of multicolored lights 
erupted from the sword like ribbons, filling the night sky with an array 


of colors from blue to green to purple. 


"It's called the ‘aurora borealis’," she began. "Or at least my 
recreation of it. | figured this would be a huge improvement over 
some fireworks or whatnot." 


"I've only read about this... It's more amazing in person." 


"Yes... | thought that too when | first saw it. | thought that this would 
be a nice experience to share... You know what sweetie? | think we 
can end the lesson for tonight. This is really is a huge 
accomplishment." 


"Really? It was rather easy." 


"Precisely. It takes people years to even learn how to do that. You'll 
fly through these lessons in no time at this rate. We just need to 
teach you how to use it responsibly." 


"Oh." 


"Well, on that note, the Haven Harbor representative should be 
coming soon now. We should see about getting your bags ready... 
Don't worry, I'll do it for you. They're already packed so it shouldn't 
take long." 


"Alright. Thank you mother." 


"Think nothing of it," she said cheerfully. "It'll be done as soon as 
possible. Let's get you inside then." 


As the two prepared to head back inside, unmarking everything 
involved, bringing down the replication of the northern lights, and not 
forgetting the wooden sword, Stuart had realized what he had said. 
He had hoped that he had perhaps misheard himself, or that, if he 
did call her what he thought he had, she hadn't heard it. 


Clovis would have been wondering if Stuart was aware of it as well, 
but the blush on his embarrassed expression made that answer very 
clear. 


Chapter 6 


He had been told that the representative would be there an hour ago 
from now. With most of his belongings packed, Stuart had very few 
things to do now but lie on the sofa and read. However, he found 
that reading for pleasure was far more enjoyable than reading for 
the sake of killing time. Dr. Unsworth had arrived hours ago to 
oversee Stuart's transfer while Clovis occasionally stuck her head 
out from upstairs to see what was going on and question why the 
representative was so late. 


Stuart had begun to wonder if he had been forgotten about just 
before the man actually appeared on his doorstep. The guest 
pounded on the door. Hard. Worried that the man would break down 
the door if left to himself for long enough, Dr. Unsworth hurriedly 
opened the door for him. 


The tall man loomed over Unsworth, towering over the already large 
doctor. "Is this where | might find the Hayward boy?" he asked the 
doctor in a steep, rough voice. 


The man looked over Unsworth's head to find the child getting up to 
address the man, but it wasn't until the man motioned the doctor out 
of the way of the door before he could get a good look at him. His 
attire seemed more appropriate of a funeral; a black and dark grey 
pinstripe three piece suit, black tie, and a black hat, all of which 
emphasized his pale face and clammy, wrinkled hands. 


As the man stepped toward he began to introduce himself. "Am | to 
presume that you are Stuart Hayward?" 


"Oh, yes sir." 


"Then my name is Father Harold Morgan. You are to accompany me 
to Haven Harbor, and remain silent throughout the trip unless 
spoken to. Is that clear?" 


This person shows up an hour late, and has the gall to barge in to 
give me orders? | can already tell this'll be fun. "Yes sir." There was 
no sense making a scene, it'll be better to have him think better of 
him than worse, especially if the two will be living together. He'd 
probably be sleeping most of the trip anyways. 


"It's bad enough that | had to come to fetch you from Halton; it's 
even worse that | had to ride one of those awful iron horses to get 
here; unnatural things... | see you have your bags packed. Is that all 
you're bringing?" 


He didn't have many belongings to begin with; just a few sets of 
clothes, his one toy, and books, mostly books. He managed to fit 
everything he owned in two bags. 


"Well, whatever you're bringing, you're carrying. Keep that in mind." 
"That's fine.” 


"Uh, Father Morgan? May | pull Stuart aside for a minute?” Dr. 
Unsworth interjected. "We have to discuss some things." 


The Preacher glared at him. "Fine. Get on with it then." 
Unsworth grabbed Stuart and led him into the kitchen. 
Stuart began. "Well, | suppose this is goodbye then." 


"| suppose so. Stuart, if you have any problems that Clovis or 
yourself can't handle, | want you to talk to my brother. He doesn't 
live very far from you, and Clovis knows where he lives, so he can 
help you with anything you might need. He'll get into contact with 
me, and the four of us will fix whatever it is. Alright?" 


"| will, don't worry. He's not exactly the most well-mannered, is he?" 


"The father? No, he's not. Do try to go easy on him though: he may 
just be having a bad day." 


"| was planning on it, even though | find him rather... disgusting. No 
sense in making enemies so early on, right?" 


The doctor began to smile. "Heh, no there isn't, and I'm glad you see 
it that way. Do remember though, you shouldn't let him walk all over 
you either, or let anyone else for that matter. Do what you think is 
right, and it'll all work out, alright?" 


"Thank you doctor, | will. I'm sorry that our last meeting went the 
way it did, and | appreciate your help through all of this; | really do. 
You didn't even have to get this involved." 


"Oh hush now. You've been a friend for as long as | care to 
remember... Do visit when you can though, it'll be very quiet without 
you around." 


Stuart brightened up slightly. "I will if | can, | promise." 


"Alright, now go on; Morgan's probably been kicking up a fit since 
we left." 


The doctor patted the boy's head and the two walked to meet the 
preacher. "I'm ready to go Mr. Morgan," Stuart said hesitantly, 
grabbing his bags. 


"That's Father Morgan. Manners boy, manners. You would do well 
to remember them, else | beat them into you." He snapped, glaring 
at Stuart. "... Well come on then, let's get a move on." 


Stuart was hardly able to look back to Unsworth waving goodbye as 
the preacher pushed the poor child out the door. The preacher 
practically shoved Stuart into his coach, and rode off, leaving 
Stuart's old life, his home, far behind. During the journey, Stuart 
could not help but think to himself that hopefully, Clovis will meet 
with him again at Haven soon. 


At least he would have one friend in all of this. 


The ride to the station was brief, but uncomfortable. Stuart sat next 
to the preacher as they rode in the backseat. Father Morgan folded 
his arms into his lap as Stuart tried to manage his bags within the 
confined space. Throughout the trip, he could not help but think that 
if the preacher took a bag, or gave up a quarter meter his extra 
space, he'd be able to sit as comfortably as Morgan. The phrase 


"holier than thou" came to Stuart's mind throughout the whole 
ordeal. 


Thankfully, the coach was only a means of getting to the Train 
Station. Stuart hopped off the coach and to the station, but the train 
wasn't quite there yet. He was just about to start searching for a 
bench when a loud wail echoed through the air, making him jump. 


The sound was high-pitched, but had a very deep presence, as if 
someone had blown a whistle the size of a person. Stuart flinched to 
search for the source of the noise to see a giant steel beast speed 
around the bend, approaching closer to the station, car after car 
following. It was at this moment that Stuart realized he had never 
even seen a train before, only read brief references to them. 


He had always heard of them referred to as ‘iron horses' or similar, 
so he had assumed they were a newer type of carriage, maybe 
traveling on iron rails, or equipped with a loud whistle. This changed 
things. While it may have served a similar purpose, it didn't look at 
all like a horse. It reminded him more of an iron snake with the way it 
twists around corners, keeping to its rails. With the cranks, 
eccentrics, and side rods circulating around its many wheels in a 
hypnotic dance, perhaps an 'iron centipede’ would have been a 
better descriptive. Regardless, Stuart was in awe as he entered the 
spacious cabin. 


Despite his circumstances, he found himself enjoying the ride. Stuart 
loved watching the scenery rush past him, the towns they passed, 
the preacher's misery; even listening to the train's whistle became a 
thrill to him. 


It was a very literal example of the journey being superior to the 
destination. 


Chapter 7