Chapter Text
“—And then I came back. I don’t remember what happened in the forest, except that I felt like I had a wonderful dream. Dipper-doodle, you have to check it out! You left me behind and played around in town for two or three days by yourself, so of course *I* ended up running into the latest town legend!”
Dipper plucked a twig from Mabel’s hair and tossed it aside. “Don’t call me that. And I wasn’t ‘playing’ in town! I still think it might’ve been the memory erasing gun. Did you run into some group like the Blind Eye Society? Or maybe Bill did something to you in the forest? I’m going to find him right now.”
“There wasn’t a single person in the forest, I swear! Waddles was with me too, right?” She pulled the little pig from behind her back, and Waddles gave Dipper a couple of snorts. “Besides, I’ve gotta say this: little bro, you’re way too controlling. Bill just disappeared for two days to deal with his own stuff. Don’t you two still talk in your head anyway? There’s no way it was him.”
The boy let out a sigh. “I still can’t fully trust him. Even though we call him William in front of Grunkle Stan and made up a whole identity for him, I can tell Grunkle knows something’s off. He definitely understands more about Bill than he’s letting on. Bill’s got more secrets than we realize.”
“If you can’t figure something out, don’t overthink it,” Mabel said with a pat on his head, which Dipper quickly flinched away from. “Maybe you’re just being overly paranoid. It’s probably just the legend. Why not take a nice nap and see for yourself?”
The brief scuffle loosened Dipper up a bit. He brushed some grass off himself as he stood and gave Mabel a hand up. “Even though I’ve decided to go, I’m still skeptical about the whole ‘lose a chunk of memory, wake up feeling like you had a great dream, and be in a good mood’ thing. I’ve never met a supernatural creature that polite.”
“Well, come see for yourself! I’m betting on the Gentleman Vampire Wizard theory!” Mabel cheered and pulled Dipper along toward the part of the forest she’d visited that morning.
In Dipper’s experience, this patch of forest was safe—apart from the occasional zombie gnomes and other bizarre neighbors hiding underground. Regardless, it was less than a mile from the Mystery Shack, so there shouldn’t be any unknown dangers lurking here. At least, none had ever caused deaths or disappearances before. He had his grappling hook gun on him—not particularly useful for dealing damage but perfect for making quick escapes. Then again, situations like last time were rare. This was probably just an ordinary urban legend. Maybe some hallucinogenic plants were involved, or perhaps Bill was simply bored and playing pranks again. Either way, it wouldn’t be a problem.
The forest hadn’t changed much—shade cast by the canopy, undergrowth and shrubbery, buzzing mosquitoes, and the occasional squirrel darting by. It was cooler than standing in the sunlight, surprisingly pleasant. As usual, Mabel led the way, bubbling with excitement, while Dipper gradually began to relax. He had always liked this forest. Its serenity and mystery appealed to him. Sometimes in the mornings, light fog would settle between the trees. The air would feel crisp and cool, the temperature just right. He enjoyed sitting alone on a tree stump with a book that, in Mabel’s words, was a waste of his youthful energy. Sometimes, he even talked to empty spaces about thoughts he didn’t dare share with anyone else. The forest now looked just as it did during those mornings—a faint mist lingering in the air.
But the sun hanging above reminded him that it was now the afternoon, the hottest time of day.
An internal alarm rang in Dipper’s mind. He scanned his surroundings again. The moisture in the air was real, but there was something else—gossamer threads stretched across the bushes and shrubs, faintly visible in the haze. These weren’t typical spider webs. If anything, they resembled massive silk threads spun by a completely metamorphosed insect. Though, so far, he hadn’t seen any cocoons.
“Wow, bro, I honestly can’t remember if these were here when I came through this morning,” Mabel exclaimed. Her first-hand experience hadn’t left her with any reliable memories—just the contents of the legend.
“What exactly do you remember?”
“This morning, you said you were watching the Shack, so I went out. I walked into the forest, wandered for a few minutes, and then came back out.” Mabel crossed her arms as she tried to recall. “I felt so refreshed, like I’d had an amazing dream. Last night, Candy and Grenda told me about some puppeteer who arrived in town. They showed me a picture of him—he’s *totally* my type. I spent the whole night agonizing over how to introduce myself.”
“How come I didn’t hear about this?” Dipper muttered, ignoring Mabel’s exaggerated accusations that he didn’t care enough about current events. “So… does that mean we could lose consciousness at any moment?”
“Nope! According to the legend, he’ll ask for permission first. That’s why I believe he’s a gentleman wizard,” Mabel said, suddenly stepping into Dipper’s path and blocking his way. “Seriously, though, we haven’t gone on a sibling adventure in ages. You’ve been so out of it these past two days that I’m getting worried about you.”
Dipper blinked, startled out of his thoughts. “I’m fine… Is this about Bill?”
Mabel nodded.
“Okay, well, you don’t need to worry. I already made a deal with him. He’s got a body now, so he doesn’t need to trick me anymore,” Dipper said, scratching his chin. “I’ve just been wondering where he’s gone lately. What if he has some ulterior motives? Why are you concerned about him? I thought you two got along pretty well.”
“I’m not worried about him. I’m worried about *you*, bro.” Mabel placed her hands on Dipper’s shoulders, forcing him to look at her. “You said it yourself—he doesn’t need to deceive you right now. So why are you constantly obsessing over where he is? Shouldn’t you just be glad he’s not following you everywhere?”
“I just… You don’t understand. He managed to fool the Author of the journals. I have to stay alert,” Dipper replied, stumbling over his words. Deep down, he knew that if Bill really wanted to pull something, there wasn’t much he could do to stop him. But he couldn’t help it—his mind kept spinning. Where was Bill? What was he doing? Was he sneaking a peek at Dipper’s thoughts? Even though they had agreed not to use their mental link except in emergencies—and Bill had consented—what would stop him from breaking that promise?
“But right now, this is *our* time, just the two of us! Bill isn’t going to cause some major disaster in the next few hours. Come on, bro-bro sibling hug!” Mabel spread her arms wide with a radiant smile. Dipper froze, then relaxed. Forget Bill’s schemes for now; all that mattered was enjoying this adventure with his sister.
He closed his eyes and hugged her tightly. “Fine… bro-bro sibling hug.”
“Mabel, you’re hugging too tight!!”
“Hehehe—it’s punishment for ignoring me these past two days!”
The two of them laughed and teased each other for a while before finally letting go. Dipper still had a faint smile on his face when he looked up—only to notice something strange behind Mabel. Faintly visible through the leaves, it was white, massive, and hidden within the forest. Layered behind a curtain of foliage, it appeared to be a cocoon, an insect’s cocoon, towering at least two or three meters high.
Mabel saw it too. The glowing white cocoon emitted a soft luminescence that made it look almost dreamlike amidst the trees. The siblings couldn’t help but move closer, weaving their way through the branches. As they approached, more glowing cocoons came into view—some large, some small, varying in height—all suspended between trees and shrubs by fine silk threads.
Humans are naturally drawn to beauty, even if it comes with greater risks. It was like Alice being lured deeper into Wonderland by the caterpillar’s smoky rings. A fog seemed to settle over Dipper’s mind, dulling his senses and suppressing any sense of danger. All that remained was a speechless awe at the surreal scene before him.
Until he realized that almost every single glowing cocoon had human-shaped shadows inside.
The realization yanked him violently out of his daze. He grabbed Mabel's hand just as she was about to touch one of the cocoons. Around them, there was nothing but dense silk threads and those eerie structures—no wind, no sound of movement. Where were the creators of these cocoons? Maybe they were watching from behind the trees, or perhaps underground, somewhere unseen. And what about the people inside? Were they alive? Or had they already died, trapped in their dreams? Was it possible that, like some urban legends, those who emerged were merely imposters, their real selves forever trapped in the cocoons, slowly consumed as nourishment for whatever creature had spun this nightmare?
Dipper glanced at Mabel. His sister remained blissfully unaware, happily tugging him forward. No—it couldn’t be. At least *Mabel* hadn’t been replaced. He would recognize his own family’s soul anywhere.
“Mabel, wait—just wait a second. Something’s not right,” Dipper said, trying to slow her down. “Are the people inside those cocoons… alive?”
“They’re just dreaming! Just like I was this morning,” Mabel replied, sticking out her tongue at him. “Stop overthinking it. It doesn’t show you anything you don’t want to see. It gives you the world you *want* to see. You might not remember the details, but you’ll definitely feel refreshed!”
As if to confirm Mabel’s words, a strange voice rang out from all around them. It wasn’t a sound that could be produced by human vocal cords—it vibrated at a frequency unnatural to any living thing. It sounded like a creature imitating humanity, generating vibrations by rubbing against leaves and soil.
“What… do you desire… from reality?”
The nearly infernal frequency sent chills racing down Dipper’s spine. Even Mabel tightened her grip on his hand, instinctively aware that this wasn’t the voice of her imagined “gentleman vampire wizard.”
“What is… the reality you wish for?”
Receiving no answer, the voice repeated its question, this time clearer, as though it were adjusting itself in an attempt to mimic human speech.
“What is the reality you long for?”
This time, each word was distinct, but it seemed clear the voice wouldn’t stop until it got an answer. Its source was impossible to pinpoint—it wasn’t coming from ahead, behind, above, or below. Nor did it seem to echo directly inside their heads.
“I don’t need dreams,” Dipper said cautiously, choosing his words with care.
“Don’t be like that!” Mabel tugged at his sleeve with a grin. “Come on, give it a shot! It’s harmless.”
“Everyone has their ‘what ifs,’” the voice continued after a slight pause. “Everyone has things they’d prefer not to see, things that make them unhappy.”
“And everyone has a reality they wish for—what is yours?”
“I don’t need one!” Dipper raised his voice. The voice wasn’t wrong; everyone dreamed of living a different life. Everyone filtered the world to see only what they wanted. But reality was rarely perfect, and dreams, no matter how sweet, were still lies. He had to learn to accept imperfections—it was something everyone had to do. Even if part of him sometimes wondered what life might’ve been like without being bound to Bill.
“You will dream a beautiful dream. Rest well, in your paradise.”
Wait. What had he just thought?
The voice wasn’t coming from ahead. Nor behind, above, or even seemingly from within the forest itself.
It was coming from underground.
In the last fleeting moment before darkness swallowed him whole, that thought crossed Dipper’s mind.