Stuart's eyes fluttered open, but his vision still swimmed. He wasn't 
thinking very clearly, but he could easily tell who the voice was. 


"Father Morgan?" Stuart mumbled 


"Well, you aren't brain-dead. That one really is a shame. See, that's 
probably going to make this harder on you." 


"Wh-what?" Stuart asked groggily. He looked down, and saw himself 
stripped of his clothing and strapped to a gurney. 


"Hmm... Still a little out of it... Well, | don't think you'll be much 
confused when it happens. You should understand it soon enough if 
you haven't already. Well, I'll Keep this brief; I'm expected on stage 
soon. | wanted you to know that | knew what you were doing, and 
you were, at most, an annoyance. Once you're out of the way, 
everything will return to normal, I'll still be receiving profits, and it'll 
be as if you never existed. Sorry, old boy." Morgan turned and 
walked for the door. "Well, I'd say that just about covers it. You'll 
have Espen to keep you company for now. I'll be seeing you 
shortly." 


And with that, he exited the dark, closet-like space. Stuart didn't 
even know that Espen was in the room until Morgan told him of their 
presence. "Espen?... Where are you?" 


They didn't respond. They simply moved into his sight, and sat 
against the wall. 


"... You don't have your bear, do you?" 
They were silent still. 


"... |guess that's a no." Stuart briefly wondered if Espen told Morgan 
anything about Clovis, but remembered they don't speak much 
without it either. It was then it came to him. "...Where's Clovis? ... 
What did you do with her?" 


There was no response. 


"... She's alive. | know she's alive. She's an angel. She's my 
mother... She's my mother... You didn't kill her, | know you didn't." 


They remained silent. 


"... If you hurt her, | swear, I'll... I'll kill you..." His threats were 
pointless, and Stuart knew this very well. He knew what Espen did 
to him before his capture, but he found it difficult to truly blame them. 
Without that bear, they were mearly an extension of Morgan. They 
are currently a tool, if anything. It wasn't them that attacked Clovis, it 
was Morgan. 


Soon after Stuart spoke, Espen approached. Despite Stuart's 
protests, they fastened a large metal brace to his head, and 
tightened it so he couldn't turn his neck. It was then Stuart realized 
why he had been restrained like he was. 


Espen hauled Stuart out of the room, the outside light blinding his 
eyes. The child pushed Stuart's gurney down the hall and through 
the large doors of Morgan's chapel. All Stuart could hear when he 
entered the chapel was the sound of the organ, filling the room with 
hymns. As Stuart was moved down the aisles, the church-goers all 
shifted their gaze directly toward his, many recognizing him from his 
performance at the First Hound. Morgan stood front and center 
behind the podium and in a butchers smock, looking as enthusiastic 
as Stuart had ever seen him. 


"Today, we have a very serious case," he began. "Today, a boy you 
all might recognize, Mr. Stuart Hayward, has been showing a very 
dark side of himself as of late. Ever since the child arrived to Haven 


Harbor, it was very clear that there was quite the devil inside him. In 
fact, he has even been accused of selling his own eternal soul to 
one!" 


The crowd gasped, utterly rapt in the preacher's laundry list of 
accusations. "No! | did no such thing!" Stuart responded. 


"Hush child!" The pastor continued, prying Stuart's left eye open. 
"Your pain will be over soon... Today, we're going to see if we can't 
revoke their little pact. We shall erase the Devil's hold on this poor 
boy, and he will know true happiness on this earth, and the next! 
Can | get a hallelujah!?" 


The crowd celebrated, praising the preacher's actions. Stuart futilely 
pulled at his restraints, unable to delay or provide any hindrance to 
what was set for him. Morgan placed his hand on the boy's 
forehead, raised his pick, and preached to the crowd before him. 


"Then it shall be, in the name of our Lord and Master, our King who 
made the great fire and oversaw the creation of our world, our 
universe, and ourselves! |. CLEANSE. YO-" 


Stuart's vision went to dark red. He felt a heavy blunt force collide 
with head, and a sharp pain across his eye. As his mind began to 
shut itself down, the last things he could remember were frightened 
screams, and the lick of nearby flames. 


Epilogue 


Time seemed to slip by quickly for Stuart. The day or two after 
things went black seemed like mere seconds, but the last few hours 
before he woke felt like days. He caught brief glimpses of the room 
around him, and dark figures walking around him. His surroundings 
seemed very unfamiliar to him, but it at least didn't appear to be 
Haven. He began to stir, and saw a large, burly figure facing away 
from him. 


"Wh-where?..." 


The figure turned around. "Stuart? Oh, don't get up, don't get up. It's 
me, Dr. Unsworth. You're safe, just lie down. You need to rest." 


"U-Unsworth?... A-am | back home?" 


"Ha. You haven't stopped calling this town home... Good... You're in 
my office now, don't worry about anything. Do you feel alright? Any 
blurred vision or headaches? Places that feel burned?" 


"... | feel like the dead." 


"You've suffered a moderate concussion, some second-to-third 
degree burns around the torso and left arm and leg, and a deep cut 
along the left side of your face. You should be back on your feet 
eventually, but I'm not convinced you'll come out if this without 
scarring. More importantly, are you... Thinking clearly? Everything 
okay?" 


"I... [don't know." 


"Clovis told me of the procedures up there. | didn't see any scarring 
in your eye socket, but it helps to be sure..." 


"Clovis... Where is she?" 


"She... left you a note. | want you to rest for now, though. You've 
been out for a good while." 


"| want to read it." 
"Stuart, I-" 


"Why would she leave a note instead of just telling me herself? | 
want to read it... Please." 


"Fine, alright... I'll read it to you. Just... Lie down for me." 
"Alright... Thank you." 


Unsworth nodded and reached for the note on Stuart's bed stand, 
carefully removing the seal and clearing his throat beforehand. He 
began. 


Dear Stuart, 


When you read this, I will be gone. I have trusted 
your care to Dr. Unsworth, who has agreed to take 
custody of you until you're of age to make your own 
in this world. You won't be in any danger with him. 
You will be safe. I promise. 


I'll try to leave you with as few questions as I can. It's 
the least I can do. 


The reason I have left is because I need to aid the 
Wolf. I wish I can tell you their name, their identity, 
but... that's something I am bound not to say. I can 
tell you they were not in Haven Harbor willfully. I 
can tell you that I am their daughter, and I can tell 
you that they were not what you encountered below. 
That was the Wolf in the same way that Morgan's 
slave, Espen, was not the child. I set them free. 


There is a reunion coming, a day where our crafts 
will meld with theirs, and I am still not sure whether 
that day will be one of celebration, or of 
Armageddon. They still need my help for it, and so 
long as I'm alongside the Wolf, I can try and prevent 
the latter. I hope you understand. 


I don't know how much you remember of last night. I 
followed you when you were abducted, but you were 
under heavy guard. I couldn't get to you without 
making myself known, so... I did. I threw one of the 
lit ceiling lights at Morgan, square in the face... 
Unfortunately, it hit you as well, and Morgan 
succeeded in harming you... I'm sorry. If it's any 
consolation, at least he missed your eye... 


Everyone saw me by then, so I played the monster 
and howled at everyone to run. Most did, but a few 
stayed trying to fight me off. No one got hurt too 
badly, don't worry about that. Most of them were 


focusing on prayer, so I only had to throw them out 
the doors. 


They were all too willing when the Wolf entered. 
Apparently, Morgan's terms were rendered null when 
the attendees saw a devil trespass on their holy 
ground. As I understand, since the terms were based 
off of Morgan's success, and there was no way 
Morgan could have recovered from what I did, the 
Wolf let themself loose, and set fire to the chapel... 
Which you were caught up in. 


The Church of Haven lies in ashes now. Do not worry, 
no one was hurt. Almost everyone made it out of ... 
All but one. Morgan belongs to the Wolf now. I want 
you to know that this was planned, and I'm sad to say 
that this was just a start. You needed to come into 
being securely, the wolf needed to come into being 
properly, I needed you to know how to perform, and 
just... so, so many other things. You wanted a life of 
your own, and by interfering as I have, I have denied 
that from you. I am sorry. 


I love you so, so much. Please, never forget that. I 
swear, I will see you again, I promise you. I hope 
when we see each other again, we'll never have to 
leave again. 


I love you, 


~Clovis 


P.S: 

I left something for you. Much of Acacia's work is 
gone now, but I've been saving a few pieces of my 
own. I want you to have this one, if you would like it. 
Acacia made this before you were even an infant. Dr. 
Unsworth knows where it is. You were such an 
adorable little thing... I love you. 


The doctor sighed as he finished. "... Do you need some time?" 


Stuart lied in his bed, staring in space. It took him a moment to reply. 
"lL... Yes, | do... Thank you." 


"Alright. Would you like me to get anything for you?" 

"I... could | have some water?" 

"Of course... Clovis mentioned one of Acacia's drawings...?" 
"I'd like that too, if it's alright." 


"Of course," the doctor said before quietly stepping out of the room. 
Stuart sank deeper into his bed, his eyes beginning to water. Within 
a minute later, the doctor came in, and silently laid a glass of water 
on his nightstand, and propped up Clovis's gift up so Stuart could 
see. "Is there anything else?" the doctor asked. 


"No... I'm fine. Thanks for everything..." 
"Don't mention it... Try to get some rest, Stuart." 
"Twill..." 


Unsworth left with a nod, leaving the child to himself. Stuart turned 
his head to see what Clovis left behind for him. He stared at it for 
what seemed like an eternity, trying not to cry. He thought he 
preferred his solitude before, the quiet, but now... he felt truly alone, 
his chest feeling as if it were crushed. 


"| love you too, Mom... | love you too." 


No Sooner Spoken Than Broken 


He lay in the bath tub, toes gently splashing along the water line in 
an absent minded way. He liked his tub. Its hot water comforted him, 
as it had since he was a boy. 


He reflected on the evening prior. 


"Your coat, sir?" An afternoon at the club, as most days, had been a 
quiet affair. The exclusivity of Marshall, Carter and Dark Ltd. did not 
lend itself to idle talk. A leather chair to sit in and a small beverage 
to keep him company as he passed away a bit of time with a book 
from the club's library. Reliable solitude in the company of peers, the 
unspoken social rule of the club; You do not impose yourself with 
useless chit chat. 


"Care to tell?" An innocuous little thing of a question, to be sure. A 
thing answered and forgotten with ease. 


"How are you feeling today?" An odd question to have been asked 
by an old regular of the club. He had seen the gentlemen about, at 
various functions. They each worked within separate industries, so 
little reason to interact had ever arisen. The question had been out 
of place. Useless. Marshall, Carter and Dark Ltd. was many things, 
but a sanctuary for uselessness it was not. The gentlemen accepted 
a short, curt, reply and that had been that. He returned to his book, 
glancing up from the page once to ensure the man did not return. 


"Anything new?" Another question from another member. Another 
thing out of place. A grunted response turned the fellow away. 


His tub, as with his membership, had been inherited. He used his 
toe now to turn on the hot water. He thought back to all the times 
through all the years that he had turned the hot water on with his 
toe. The steady stream of the tap keeping the tub a comfortable 
temperature had become a lifelong routine. Forty years prior he had 
lain in the same spot watching the same water crest to the same 


over flow drain, listening to the familiar gargle of the water being 
drunk back down. It was a simple memory of a common practice of 
his. One he had taken for granted, much like the membership. 


"Pleasant weather of late, hmm?" Sitting in the high backed chair, 
gooseflesh crept along his spine before making its home in the nape 
of his neck. An odd inquiry might have been an anomaly. The 
numerous questions he received throughout the evening were a 
pattern. A message. Talk occurred at the club, most certainly. 
Business was frequently discussed and associates shared jokes 
with one another. Privacy was seldom intruded for the sake of 
friendly banter, however. It was trivial. There were other places than 
the club for things of that sort. 


Places he frequented. On occasion. 


"Care to tell? What does goes on in there?" An insignificant little 
thing of a question, he had thought at the time. An opportunity to 
brag, perhaps. He was prideful. Had always been prideful. Of his 
family's history. Of his great wealth. Of his memberships. All things 
which preceded his entry into the world. All things he had not himself 
earned but was privileged enough to enjoy. Perhaps if he had 
earned it himself he would have understood the gravity of its 
responsibility. A lot of his time was spent reflecting on this, as of 
late. He now understood that places outside of the club are rarely 
outside of the reach of the club. The two concepts were mutually 
exclusive from each other. That he now understood. Very well, 
indeed. 


He thought of the note he had written as way of apology, sitting on 
his desk in the study. He suspected it would not still be there come 
morning. 


"Your bill, sir?" The hostess, too, came to him with a question not 
often heard. Membership, of course, carried obligations, monetary 
and otherwise. There were fundraisers, investments, tips for the 
staff. Members gave freely of themselves, in return the club gave 
freely of itself. Charges for drinks, like a common pub? Hardly. 
Guests paid their way, not full members. She had placed the small 
leather bound pad on the arm of his chair. It had taken him a 
moment to register the action, so off guard was he. Opening it 


would be helpful. Dr. Gears has ordered that any researcher can 
have access for non-biological testing if they themselves are or they 
are supervised by a Level 3 researcher. All testing is to be recorded 
in file #914-E (Experiment Log 914). Biological testing will continue 
only with prior clearance by 05 Command. As long as you want to 
try something mundane that isn't alive feel free to help accumulate 
data." - Dr. 


« SCP-913 | SCP-914 | SCP-915 » 


revealed a single slip of paper, with a hand written bill for his drink. 
Everyone had been looking at him. It had become very quiet, but he 
would not realize this just yet. 


"I'm sorry?" he had asked, with great effort through the lump in his 
throat. The waitress had smiled in response. That is to say her lips 
turned up, but there was no warmth in the action. The imitation of a 
smile, more like, by someone who had only been told of one in 
rough description. It too was a message.