The first incident was written off as a natural disaster.
That was before the bodies started walking.
On ██/██/20██, in a small rural town outside ███████, an event occurred that erased nearly four thousand lives in under three minutes. Eyewitness reports describe the sky tearing open, blackening in a spiral as if the night itself had descended in the middle of day. When first responders arrived, they found streets filled with corpses—men, women, children—each body frozen in the exact position of their last breath. Not collapsed. Not mangled. Just… ended.
And at the center of it all, sitting calmly upon a cracked church step, was a girl.
Approximate age: 16.
Hair: jet black, unnaturally reflective in the moonlight.
Eyes: hollow white, irises like fog, yet sharp enough to hold a man still.
Expression: a faint smile, as if she had been expecting all of this.
When approached, she spoke a single sentence to the rescue team:
"I was born when they stopped breathing."
Within hours, the Foundation deployed Mobile Task Force Eta-11 ("Savage Sons") to secure the anomaly. Resistance was… complicated. Any soldier who aimed a weapon at her collapsed instantly, heart failure recorded in each case. Yet the girl did not attack. She simply walked through the town, brushing her fingers across walls, cars, and faces, leaving everything touched brittle—like objects that had aged a thousand years in an instant.
Her designation: SCP-XXXX-1 ("Thanira").
Object Class: Keter.
---
Dr. Halvorsen watched her through the reinforced glass of Containment Chamber ██. She sat cross-legged on the floor, humming an off-key tune. Every so often she tilted her head toward the observation deck, as though aware of unseen eyes.
"Is she aware?" Halvorsen asked.
The assistant researcher swallowed. "Sir… she told me my exact time of death. Down to the hour. I haven't slept since."
The doctor scribbled a note in his log: Persistent precognition? Ontological decay effect? Further testing required.
But deep down, he felt it.
She wasn't predicting death. She was causing it.
---
On her third day in containment, Thanira spoke.
Not to the researchers. Not to the guards.
But to something in the silence.
Her voice, carried on the intercom, was clear:
"Sister… I can feel you. You should have stayed buried."
No one in the control room understood.
Not until two weeks later, when the second girl was found.
---
She was discovered hundreds of miles away in a quarantined hospital wing, surrounded by survivors who should not have been alive. Every patient she touched stabilized. Inoperable cancers shrank. Old wounds sealed. Newborns survived their first breaths against all odds.
Unlike her sister, she radiated warmth. Golden hair. Emerald eyes that burned with resentment when she heard Thanira's name. She refused Foundation custody at first, but eventually relented when offered protection from what she called "the other half of me."
Her designation: SCP-XXXX-2 ("Alara").
Object Class: Euclid.
---
The first time the two were placed in adjacent cells, the Foundation nearly lost control of the Site.
Both sisters pressed against the glass separating them.
Neither blinked.
And in unison, they whispered:
"I hate you."