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The Mystery Shack’s living room was a mess—burned edges on the carpet, a pile of splintered wood where the coffee table used to be, and a lingering smell of ozone in the air. The flicking porch lights outside cast long, jagged shadows across the walls, adding to the tension already thick in the room.
“You could’ve been seriously hurt, Mabel!” Dipper’s voice wavered somewhere between anger and worry as he crossed his arms. “Or worse! What were you thinking?”
Mabel, still catching her breath, rubbed the soot off her sweater with a scowl. “I was thinking maybe, just maybe, I could handle something by myself for once! You act like I’m completely incapable—”
“Because sometimes you are! ” Dipper shot back, his hands flailing. “You ran into a haunted tunnel with nothing but a flashlight and pure stubbornness! ”
“I had a plan!” Mabel argued, throwing her hands up.
“Oh really? Was the plan ‘poke the ancient death-trap and hope it doesn’t explode?’ Because congrats! You nailed it! ”
Mabel clenched her fists. “I figured out the trap! I was seconds away from disarming it before you—”
“Before I what? Before I saved your butt from being crushed by a falling ceiling? You’re welcome, by the way!”
“You didn’t have to!” Mabel snapped. “I was handling it!”
Dipper let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, tell that to the broken table and Stan’s rug that’s now in flames. ”
Mabel’s face turned red. “Okay, yeah, fine, things went slightly off course—”
“Slightly?! You almost ended up as a pancake, Mabel! Like, a Mabel-cake! ” Dipper threw her hands up. “And for what? Just so you could prove you don’t need me?”
For a split second, neither of them said anything.
Mabel looked away, jaw tightening. That wasn’t what she meant. Not exactly.
Dipper’s expression shifted from frustration to something smaller, sadder. “Mabel…” He took a step forward, voice softer. “I’m not trying to hold you back, okay?” I just—”
But the knot in Mabel’s chest only tightened.
“No. Forget it.” Her voice came out sharper than she intended. “You’ll never get it.”
Dipper’s eyebrows furrowed. “Get what?”
“That I don’t always need your help!” Se gestured wildly. “I’m not some helpless person who’s just here for comic relief, Dipper! Maybe I want to handle things on my own for once! Maybe I—” She hesitated for half a second, then pushed forward. “Maybe I don’t need you looking over my shoulder every second of the day!”
Dipper took a step back like she’d just slapped him.
The hurt in his eyes was instant, and Mabel regretted it the second the words left her mouth. But instead of softening, his expression hardened.
“Fine,” he said, crossing his arms. “If that’s how you feel, then go. Walk out that door.”
Mabel scoffed. “Yeah, right.”
But Dipper just stared at her. Dead serious. “Go ahead. If you really think I’m holding you back, then go. Walk out that door and we’re through.”
The words hung in the air like a loaded gun.
Mabel opened her mouth. Closed it. Looked at him again, really looked, but he didn’t budge.
Anger, frustration, and something raw twisted inside her. Before she could stop herself, before she could think, her feet were moving.
She yanked open the front door and slammed it behind her without another word.
The night air was cold against her skin, but she barely felt it. She stomped down the porch steps, shoving into her hands into her makeshift pockets, trying to ignore the heavy weight in her chest.
He’d calm down. He always did.
But as the glow of the Shack faded behind him, a nagging voice in her head whispered: What if this time is different?
The Oregon night wrapped around Mabel like a thick, suffocating blanket. The sky above was a sprawl of stars, but their usual wonder was lost on him. Each step down the dirt path was fueled by frustration, the crunch of gravel under her shoes the only sound breaking the quiet.
The argument still rang in her ears. You’ll never get it. Maybe I don’t need you looking over my shoulder every second of the day.
Her stomach twisted. She hadn’t meant it like that. But the way Dipper looked at her—like she’d just thrown him away —she hated that.
She kicked a loose rock and watched it skid off the path.
He’ll get over it, he told himself. They fought sometimes. Siblings did that. It wasn’t a big deal.
The night was unusually quiet. No distant sound of an owl, no rustling of leaves in the wind. Just stillness.
Her feet carried her forward anyway. She wasn’t sure where she was going—just away. Away from the Shack, away from the way Dipper’s voice cracked, away from the mess she made.
It wasn't just about the fight.
Dipper still saw her as the same naive kid from when they first got to Gravity Falls. The one who tripped over her own feet, who geeked out over boy bands. The sidekick.
But she wasn’t that kid anymore.
She’d fought real monsters. Faced down nightmares. She wasn’t some joke character in Dipper’s sitcom of a life. She could handle herself.
…Couldn’t he?
The trees thickened as she walked, the shadows stretching longer. A cold breeze swept through the woods, rustling the branches.
Somewhere in the distance, a twig snapped.
Mabel stopped.
She turned slowly, scanning the trees. Nothing but darkness and the faint glow of fireflies deeper in the forest. Her mind buzzed, cataloging possibilities. Animal? The wind? Something else?
She shook her head. It was nothing. Just her brain reaching for a mystery when there wasn’t one.
But the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
She took another step forward—then hesitated.
The woods have always been this eerie, but tonight, something felt… off.
And then, barely audible over the wind, she heard it.
A whisper.
Not the wind. Not the trees creaking. A voice.
Just ahead.
Low. Faint.
Calling her name.
Mabel’s blood ran cold.
The whisper sent a jolt down Mabel’s spine.
She whipped around, flashlight already in hand, sweeping the beam over the thick underbrush. Nothing. Just trees, branches swaying gently in the wind. The logical part of her brain screamed probably just the wind. But the other part—the part that had spent a whole summer learning that nothing in Gravity Falls was ever just the wind—wasn’t so sure.
Her heart pounded. She should go back. Dipper was probably still fuming, but at least the Shack was safe.
But then she saw it.
Barely visible through the trees, half-hidden under layers of ivy and moss, stood a jagged stone pillar. It was old—older than anything she’d ever seen in the woods before. Its surface was cracked, worn down by time, but faint engravings snaked around it in patterns too precise to be natural.
Mabel’s breath caught in her throat.
She pulled out her phone, scrolling through photos of the journal pages at lightning speed. Nothing. No notes, no sketches, no references to anything like this.
Stanford had documented everything in Gravity Falls. Every anomaly, every weird artifact, every piece of strange history tucked away in these woods.
So why wasn’t this in the journal?
Her fingers twitched with excitement. Something undiscovered. Something even Ford missed.
She stepped closer, brushing away some of the ivy. More carvings—symbols she didn’t recognize. They almost looked like a language, but the shapes felt wrong, like they were shifting just slightly when she wasn’t looking. She opened the camera app on her phone, already taking pictures.
Okay. Unknown artifact. Possibly ancient. Undocumented by Ford. Carvings resemble—
The whisper came again.
Closer.
Mabel froze, the hairs on her arms standing up. Her flashlight flickered.
Nope. Nope, nope, nope.
She took a step back. Her gut screamed at her to leave it alone, to turn around and walk back to the Shack before she did something stupid.
Then she noticed a small indentation near the base of the pillar.
A hole. Roughly the size of a human hand.
Mabel’s breath caught.
A thousand warnings flooded her brain. Do not touch the ancient artifact. Do not stick your hand in the mysterious hole in the cursed-looking stone. Do not make the same dumb mistakes as literally every horror movie protagonist ever.
But what if this was important? What if this was the missing piece to something Ford had never solved?
She reached out. Hesitated.
And then, before she could stop herself, pressed her hand into the indentation.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then the ground rumbled.
Mabel stumbled back as the engravings flared to life, glowing a deep, sickly gold. The trees around him groaned, the air turning heavy, thick, like the whole forest was holding its breath.
And then, from deep below—somewhere beneath her feet—a sound.
A low, resonant click.
Followed by something much, much worse.
The sound of stone shifting. Something unlocking. Something waking up.
Mabel’s pulse skyrocketed. She scrambled backward, heart hammering against her ribs.
“Okay,” she breathed. “Okay, bad idea, bad idea—”
The flashlight flickered again—then died completely.
The whisper came one last time, directly behind her.
“Mabel.”
And the ground gave way beneath her feet.
Mabel’s stomach lurched as the ground vanished beneath her.
For a split second, she was weightless. Then gravity yanked her down, and she tumbled through the darkness. Her arms flailed, desperately grasping for anything to stop her fall, but the walls were slick and crumbling under her fingers.
Her flashlight slipped from her grip, spinning end over end, its dead bulb reflecting what little light remained from the glowing carvings above. She barely had time to process the jagged tunnel rushing past her before—
THUD!
She crashed onto a steep, slanted surface. It wasn’t solid ground—it was stone, smooth and unnatural, like some kind of massive ramp. Her body skidded down the incline, momentum pulling her faster and faster.
“Nonononono—!”
Mabel flipped onto her stomach, fingers scraping against the surface, but there was nothing to grab onto. The stone was too polished, too precise, like it had been made for something to slide down.
The ramp twisted suddenly, and Mabel was launched off the edge.
Air whooshed around her as she plummeted, bracing for another impact, for the pain that was sure to come—
Instead, she hit something softer than stone. Not soft enough, but enough to break the worst of her fall. The impact knocked the wind out of her, and for a few seconds, all she could do was lay there, gasping, her heart slamming against her ribs.
Her brain caught up a moment later.
She was alive.
Everything hurt, but nothing felt broken. That was… something.
Mabel groaned and rolled onto her side, her cheek pressing against something damp and uneven. Her hand twitched, fingers curling around whatever she had landed on, and a sick realization settled in her gut.
It was dirt. Damp, loose, freshly disturbed.
Like something had been buried here.
A shiver crawled up her spine, but she forced herself upright, squinting into the darkness. The faintest glow from above barely reached this far down, leaving most of the cavern swallowed in shadow.
She could barely make out the walls— not natural. Not like a cave. They were smooth, almost structured.
And just ahead of her, barely visible in the dim light…
A shape.
Still. Waiting.
Mabel’s breath hitched. Her fingers dug into the dirt as she fought the urge to move, to run, to do anything but sit there frozen in place.
Then, slowly, the shape shifted.
And the whisper came again—closer than ever.
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
Mabel’s pulse pounded in her ears as the whisper echoed through the cavern.
She scrambled backward, dirt and loose stones shifting beneath her. Her flashlight was gone, probably shattered somewhere along the way, leaving her in near-total darkness. Her only source of light was the eerie golden glow still trickling down from the hole she’d fallen through—far, far above her.
Mabel swallowed hard, forcing herself to think. Okay. You just fell into an ancient underground chamber that Ford and Dipper apparently never documented. That means you’re the first person to be here in—what?—centuries? Millenia? She shook her head. Not the point. The point is: you need to figure out what’s down here and how to get out.
Her hands fumbled for her phone, but her fingers brushed against nothing but dirt.
“Crap,” she muttered under her breath. She must’ve lost it in the fall.
A soft rustling sound came from the darkness ahead. Not footsteps—at least, not the kind he was used to. More like shifting fabric. A subtle, deliberate movement.
“Hello?” Her voice cracked slightly, but she forced herself to sound steady. “I-I know someone’s there.”
Silence.
And then—
“You don’t belong here.”
The voice was strange—low, distorted, like it was layered over itself, one echoing just behind the other.
Mabel clenched her fists to keep her hands from shaking. “Yeah, no offense, I really didn’t plan on being here.” She licked her lips. “So, uh… who exactly am I talking to?”
A pause. Then:
“You shouldn’t have come.”
She exhaled sharply, trying to steady her nerves. “Okay, noted. But since I am here, I kinda need to know what this place is.” She gestured vaguely, then realized whoever—or whatever —she was talking to probably couldn’t see that. “This chamber. This… whatever it is.”
Another paused. Then the voice whispered, “Unfinished.”
Mabel frowned. “Unfinished?”
No answer.
Her fingers twitched. She didn’t like this. Her brain itched to solve this puzzle, but every instinct screamed that this wasn't just some forgotten ruin.
This was a mistake.
A cold draft snaked through the cavern, raising goosebumps on her arms. The air felt thick, charged, like the seconds before a lightning strike. The same way it had felt when Bill Cipher was still around.
Mabel forced herself to keep her voice level. “Look, I don’t want trouble. I just need to find a way back up and—”
“You woke it up.”
The whisper curled around her like breath against her ear. Mabel jolted, her stomach twisting.
She turned sharply, but there was no one there. Just shadows stretching in unnatural ways.
“I didn’t wake anything up,” Mabel said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “I barely touched the—” She stopped. Her stomach dropped.
The pillar.
The engravings. The handprint indentation.
The low, resonant click.
Her blood ran cold.
“Okay,” she whispered to herself, heart hammering. “Okay, bad. Really bad.”
The whisper came again, softer now. Almost pitying.
“You’re stuck.”
Mabel clenched her jaw. “No. I’ll find a way out.”
Silence.
Then, just as she was about to take a step forward—
A low rumble shook the cavern.
Dust trickled from the unseen ceiling. The stone beneath her felt wrong—not solid ground, but something unstable.
The voice whispered one last time.
“The door is open.”
A gust of icy wind blasted through the chamber, and suddenly— Mabel wasn’t alone anymore.
—
The Shack was quiet. Unusually quiet.
Dipper sat on the couch, staring at the front door. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there—long enough for Waddles to curl up at his feet and doze off, long enough for the weight of his own words to settle deep in his stomach.
“Walk out that door and we’re through.”
He hadn’t meant it. Not in the way it sounded.
Sure, Mabel had been acting like a stubborn butt-munch, and yeah, he’d been furious at her for pulling a reckless stunt again, but… did he really want to draw a line like that? A line where “through” actually meant something?
No. He didn’t.
And yet, here he was, staring at the door, waiting for her to come back.
Any minute now.
The front door creaked open—not Mabel, but Pacifica, stepping inside without knocking. She had her arms crossed, one perfectly manicured brow raised. “Alright, what’s with the emergency text?”
Dipper blinked. “What emergency text?”
Pacifica pulled out her phone, reading aloud: “‘I may have just ruined everything forever. HELP.’” She smirked. “Kinda dramatic, even for you.”
Dipper groaned and flopped onto his back. “I panicked, okay? I was mad, and then I was sad, and now I’m mad and sad, and ugh! ” He threw an arm over his face. “Mabel stormed off, and now she’s out there sulking, and—what if she doesn’t come back?”
Pacifica sighed, stepping further inside. “Dipper, your sister throws a tantrum like, what? Twice a month?”
“Not like this,” Dipper muttered.
Something in his tone must’ve hit Pacifica the wrong way because her teasing expression faltered. “Okay,” she said, leaning against the armrest. “What actually happened?”
Dipper inhaled. “She pulled a total Mabel move—went full Lone Wolf Mode on a mystery, almost got smushed, and then got mad at me for helping! We argued, and then I said—” He hesitated, voice going smaller. “I said if she walked out that door, we were through.”
Pacifica winced. “Yikes.”
“Big yikes.”
Silence stretched between them. The Shack creaked, and Waddles snorted in his sleep.
Dipper sat up, hugging her knees. “She should be back by now.”
Pacifica gave him a look. “You don’t actually think she’d ditch you for real, do you?”
“No! I mean… no,” Dipper said quickly, then bit his lip. “But… I don’t know. Maybe this time was different?”
Pacifica frowned, glancing toward the door. “Okay, fine, say it was different. Where would she go?”
Dipper didn’t even have to think. “The woods. She always goes to the woods when she’s brooding.”
Pacifica rolled her eyes. “Of course she does.” She stood up, brushing imaginary dust off her cardigan. “So? Let’s go get him.”
Dipper hesitated. “What if she’s still mad?”
Pacifica scoffed. “Please. That dork can’t hold a grudge against you. ” She tilted her head. “Besides, if you don’t go get him, you’re just gonna sit here overthinking until your brain melts.”
Dipper exhaled sharply, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”
He hopped to his feet, determination flickering in his eyes.
Mabel might be mad. She might be sulking. She might even be avoiding him.
But she was still his sister. And no stupid fight was going to change that.
“Alright,” Dipper said, grabbing a flashlight. “Let’s bring her home.”
They stepped out into the night—completely unaware that, deep in the woods, Mabel was already gone.
—
Pacifica hated the woods.
Like, really hated them. They were damp, they smelled weird, and the ground was not designed for expensive boots. But here she was, stomping through the trees anyway, a flashlight beam bouncing ahead of her as she muttered under her breath.
“This is so stupid. This is— ugh! ” She swatted at a low-hanging branch. “She’s probably fine! Probably sitting on a rock, brooding about the meaning of life, or whatever dorky girls do when they sulk—”
She took another step, and the ground vanished.
“ Pacifica! ”
Dipper lunged forward, but it was too late. The ground had swallowed her whole.
A puff of dust and loose pebbles skittered into the whole where Pacifica had just been, and then—silence.
Dipper’s pulse hammered in his ears. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no! ” He scrambled to the edge, gripping the dirt with both hands, heart jackhammering.
“Pacifica?!” His voice echoed down. No answer.
He fumbled for his flashlight, nearly dropping it as he shone the beam into the gaping hole. His stomach lurched.
It was deep. Way deeper than he wanted it to be. The walls were jagged, uneven—too risky to climb without gear.
Dipper exhaled sharply. “Okay, okay, think—” he muttered, tapping the flashlight against his chin. “Pacifica just ate it into a creepy underground death hole. Which means she’s either A, unconscious and maybe dead—”
Dipper groaned, shaking his head. “Nope, nope, bad option, next—”
“Or B, totally fine but super freaked out and waiting for help. Which means—” He squared his shoulders. “I gotta get down there.”
He leaned forward again. “Pacifica! Are you alive?! Say something, insult me, complain about your hair—anything! ”
Silence.
Then, after an agonizing second—a groggy, irritated groan.
“Ohhh, you have got to me kidding me.”
Dipper gasped, clasping both hands over his heart. “You lived! ”
Pacifica’s voice echoed faintly from below. “Barely! What the hell just happened?!”
“You fell into a very ominous hole!” Dipper called. “Are you hurt?”
There was some rustling, followed by Pacifica muttering, “Ugh. My everything hurts, but I think I’m good.” A pause. “Wait. Where’s my flashlight?”
Dipper winced. “Uh… bad news.”
“What now?”
“You… might be stuck in a pitch-black ancient cavern with no light?”
A beat of silence. Then—Pacifica screamed.
“I AM IN THE DARK! I HATE THE DARK! THERE COULD BE SPIDERS! THERE COULD BE GHOSTS! THERE COULD BE SPIDER GHOSTS! ”
“Wait.” Dipper stopped, brain catching up. “Wait, wait, wait! I can help! Hold on! I’m tossing you a light! Please don’t let it break because I only brought one and I really, really don’t wanna jump down there blind.”
“JUST DO IT!”
Dipper aimed carefully, took a deep breath, and tossed.
The flashlight disappeared into the hole.
A few agonizing seconds later— thump.
A pause. Then, Pacifica exhaled. “Okay. Got it.”
Dipper fist-pumped. “Yes!”
The light flickered on below, illuminating jagged stone walls and—Dipper squinted— was that movement?
His stomach flipped.
“...Uh, Pacifica?”
“What?”
Dipper hesitated. “You might not be alone down there.”
Silence.
Then, flatly, “I hate you.”
Somewhere ahead, “Pacifica?!”
Her head snapped up.
A little ways in front of her, sitting in the dirt with a wild, completely frazzled, was Mabel Pines.
Pacifica’s stomach dropped. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
Mabel looked just as horrified to see her. “What—what are you doing here?!”
Pacifica groaned, dusting herself off. “Oh, I don’t know, I just love taking midnight strolls and falling into actual death pits. What does it look like?!”
Mabel opened her mouth, then closed it, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “No, no, no—Pacifica, you shouldn’t be here! ”
She crossed her arms. “Well, neither should you! ”
Mabel inhaled sharply through her nose, clearly barely holding it together. “I mean it! This isn’t—this isn’t normal Gravity Falls weirdness. Something bad is happening down here, and I—” She hesitated, her expression shifting. “Wait. How did you even find this place?”
Pacifica rolled her eyes. “Dipper and I went looking for you, duh. She gestured vaguely at the hole above them. “I figured you were off heaving an emo crisis in the woods, and next thing I know, I’m falling through the ground.”
Mabel’s face paled. “Dipper’s looking for me?”
Pacifica groaned. “ Yes, and he’s freaking out, by the way.” She turned to call back up the hole. “Dipper! She’s down here!” She turned to face her again. “So if you’re done playing Indiana Jones, maybe we can leave? ”
Mabel’s jaw tightened. “It’s not that simple.”
Pacifica threw her hands in the air. “Oh, of course it’s not.”
Before Mabel could respond, a familiar shift in the air made her freeze.
That eerie, static-charged feeling.
The low, distant rumble.
Pacifica felt it too. She frowned, rubbing her arms. “Okay. Why does it feel like someone just cranked the AC in here?”
Mabel didn’t answer. She was already scanning the darkness, muscles tensed, every sense on high alert.
And then— The whisper came again.
Faint. Breathless.
But this time, it said her name.
“Pacifica.”
She flinched. “What the—?! Okay, nope! ” She spun toward Mabel, pointing an accusatory finger. “I don’t know what kind of ancient crypt-ghost-witch thing you woke up, but fix it! ”
Mabel barely heard her. Her mind was racing, connecting pieces, possibilities, warnings.
Her eyes darted back to Pacifica.
She wasn’t supposed to be here.
And now, she was stuck too.
Pacifica took a step back, arms crossed tight over her chest. “Seriously, Mabel, tell me you heard that too.”
“Oh, I heard it.” Mabel swallowed hard. “And we need to get out of here. Now. ”
Pacifica scoffed. “Yeah, no kidding, How do we—” She turned back toward the slope she’d tumbled down from, only to feel her stomach drop.
It was gone.
The entrance—the slanted path, the only way back up—was no longer there. Instead, the stone wall stretched upward, smooth and unbroken, as if it had never been open.
Pacifica’s mouth went dry.
She took a slow step forward, hesitated, then pressed both hands against the cold stone. “What—” She shook her head, voice rising. “What the hell?! ”
Mabel squeezed her eyes shut, inhaled, and let it out slowly. “Okay.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay. It’s fine.”
“ Fine?! ” Pacifica whirled on him. “ Fine?! Mabel, the freaking wall just disappeared! How is that fine?! ”
Mabel held up her hands. “Look, panicking isn’t gonna help—”
“Oh, I totally disagree, I think panicking is actually very appropriate right now—"
Another whisper.
Pacifica cut herself off with a sharp inhale.
This time, the voice was even closer.
Mabel’s grip tightened into fists. “We can’t stay here!”
“Great, so let’s go! ” Pacifica gestured wildly. “Where’s the exit?”
Mabel hesitated.
Pacifica’s face fell. “You don’t know?! ”
Mabel winced. “No.”
Pacifica dragged a hand down her face. “Unbelievable. Just— unbelievable. ”
The cavern rumbled again, deep and distant, like a great stone heartbeat.
Mabel took a shaky breath. “Look, I don’t know where the exit is. But I do know one thing.” She turned, flashlight beam sweeping into the depths of the cavern. “There’s only one way forward.”
Pacifica followed her gaze. The chamber stretched out ahead of them, wide and vast, its edges swallowed in darkness. No way up. No way back.
No way out —except deeper in.
She exhaled sharply, shivering despite herself. “I hate this plan.”
Mabel nodded grimly. “Me too.”
But they had no choice.
With a final glance at the sealed stone wall behind them, they stepped forward—into the unknown.
—
Dipper ran.
His lungs burned, twigs snapped under his sneakers. He didn’t care. He had one mission now: Get supplies. Find Ford. Fix this.
Pacifica was trapped underground. Mabel was down there too, and he had no idea what was happening to either of them. The only thing he did know?
The ground had moved.
It wasn’t an earthquake. It wasn’t a landslide. It was something weird. The kind of weird that made Gravity Falls, well… Gravity Falls.
The Shack came into view. Dipper sprinted up the steps, threw open the door, and—
WHAM.
He ran straight into a very solid, very irritated looking Stanford Pines.
Dipper bounced off him with an “Oof!” and stumbled backward.
Ford blinked down at him, rubbing his temple. He was still in his sweater, but his sleeves were rolled up like he’d been working on something. “Dipper?” His brow furrowed. “What on earth are you—”
“No time— Mabel’s missing, Pacifica fell into a hole, the ground is doing freaky earthquake-y things, and I NEED A RESCUE PLAN!”
Ford stared. “...What?”
Dipper grabbed his arm. “Come on, we gotta move! ”
Ford held up both hands. “Slow down. Start from the beginning.”
“No time for beginnings! We are MID-CRISIS!”
Ford’s eyes narrowed. “Dipper.” His voice was firm. “Breathe.”
He inhaled sharply, puffing up his cheeks—then exhaled in a dramatic whoosh.
“Okay. Short version: Mabel stormed off into the woods. Pacifica followed. I also followed, but she fell into a super creepy underground cavern, and now they’re BOTH gone!”
Ford frowned deeply, gears turning in his head. “An underground cavern… where?”
Dipper waved his arms. “I dunno, in the woods?! ”
Ford exhaled, rubbing his chin. “And you’re certain the tremors started after they disappeared?”
Dipper nodded quickly. “Like, right after! The second Pacifica hit the ground, the dirt practically ate her! And then—BOOM! Rumbles! Earth shaking! Like a horror movie but worse because it’s REAL!”
Ford’s expression darkened. “That’s not good.”
“DUH!” Dipper threw his hands in the air. “So unless you have a magical ‘Save My Sister’ button, I need to grab some ropes, flashlights, and probably Mabel’s grappling hook—”
Ford placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. “Wait.”
Dipper huffed. “Ugh, what now?! ”
Ford’s grip tightened just slightly. “You said the ground moved. You need to be very clear, Dipper. Did it collapse —or did it shift? ”
Dipper hesitated, Ford’s sudden seriousness cutting through his panic. He replayed the moment in his head—Pacifica slipping, the hole swallowing her whole—
And then.
“...Shift,” Dipper said slowly. “It didn’t just cave in. It closed. ”
Ford’s expression turned grave.
Dipper had been in plenty of dangerous situations before. He’d fought gnomes, wrestled clones of himself, and literally almost punched a demon in the face. But this? This was worse.
Because this time, he wasn’t in the thick of it.
This time, he was waiting.
And waiting sucked.
Ford had practically thrown himself into action the moment he’d said the cavern sealed itself. He’d rummaged through old maps, muttered to himself about seismic anomalies and ancient containment fields, and now—
Now, Dipper sat cross-legged on the floor of the Shack’s living room, stuffing the biggest, most over-packed adventure backpack he’d ever assembled.
He tightened the straps, inspecting his work. “Okay. We’ve got flashlights, extra batteries, rope, walkie-talkies, granola bars— ew, but necessary—plus a first aid kid.” He snapped it shut. “Boom. Rescue-ready.”
Ford glanced up from where he was sitting, where he was flipping through a battered old notebook. “We’re not going in blind, Dipper.”
“Yeah? ‘Cause from where I’m sitting, our entire plan is: ‘Find Hole, Jump In, Hope for the Best.’” He jabbed a finger toward him. “Which, for the record, is a bad plan.”
Ford sighed. “That’s why I’m checking this. ” He tapped the notebook. “I’ve documented plenty of underground anomalies in Gravity Falls, but if the entrance sealed itself—” He frowned. “That suggests something was activated. ”
Dipper paused, the weight of his words settling over him. “You think Mabel set something off?”
Ford’s expression was unreadable. “I think this town has a long history of keeping things buried.” He flipped another page. “And whatever’s down there? Someone clearly didn’t want it getting out.”
“Well, great, because knowing Mabel, she probably tripped over the ‘DO NOT TOUCH’ button five seconds after finding it.”
Ford didn’t argue.
Instead, he pulled out a dusty map and spread it across the desk. Dipper scooted closer. The paper was old—like, really old—with faded lines sketching out tunnels beneath Gravity Falls. Some branched off into dead ends, others connected to places Dipper vaguely recognized. The Mystery Shack. The woods. The old, creepy cemetery.
And at the very center—a massive, jagged space, labeled in Ford’s tiny, sharp handwriting: “UNKNOWN.”
Dipper’s stomach flipped. “Uh. That’s not ominous at all.”
Ford traced a finger along the map. “If the ground sealed behind Pacifica, then this isn’t just a cave-in. It’s a containment system. There must be another way in.”
Dipper bit his lip. “And what if there isn’t? ”
Ford met his eyes. “Then we make one.”
Dipper’s stomach did not love the sound of that, but he squared his shoulders. “Alright. Where do we start?”
Ford pulled out a red marker and circled a spot on the map. “There’s an old entrance near the abandoned mining site. If my calculations are correct, it should connect to the same underground network.”
Dipper perked up. “And if your calculations aren’t correct?”
Ford adjusted his glasses. “Then we improvise.”
Dipper grinned. “Finally, a plan with my name on it.” He slung his overstuffed backpack onto his shoulders. “Let’s go spelunking.”
Ford gave him a sharp nod, rolling up the map. “Stay close, Dipper. We don’t know what we’re walking into.”
Dipper took one last glance around the Shack—then followed Ford into the night.
—
“This is officially the worst night of my life,” Pacifica muttered.
Mabel shot her a look as they crept through the cavern. “ Really? Worse than the ghost of your great-grandpa trying to kill you? Worse than your parents forcing you into that creepy high-society cult thing?”
Pacifica huffed, hugging her arms. “Okay, fine. Second worst. ”
Mabel grunted, shifting the flashlight toward the path ahead. The cavern stretched out into darkness, winding and uneven. It was impossible to tell how deep they’d gone, and the air was like the atmosphere before a storm.
And the whispers hadn’t stopped.
Neither of them mentioned it, but every so often, they’d hear something just at the edge of their hearing. Not words. Not quite. Just voices.
Watching. Waiting.
Mabel tightened her grip on her phone, which was slowly but surely losing battery, flipping through her photos of the journal’s brittle pages. The ink was faded, but the sketches were eerily familiar. Markings like the ones she found outside. Seals. Warnings.
Warnings that Mabel had ignored.
Pacifica peered over her shoulder. “Please tell me those journals had a chapter on ‘How to Not Die Underground.’”
“Working on it.” Mabel’s eyes scanned the picture.
Pacifica groaned. “Oh, come on. ”
A gust of wind rushed past them—except there was no wind down here.
Both of them froze.
Then, click.
A stone beneath Mabel’s foot sank into the ground.
Her stomach dropped. “Oh, no.”
The cavern rumbled.
Pacifica backed up fast. “Oh, no no no, what did you do?!”
The walls trembled, dust and pebbles raining down. Deep within the shadows, something shifted. The air pulsed with an unseen force, and suddenly—
Symbols lit up along the cavern walls. A deep, golden glow flickered to life, forming a massive, circular pattern around them. Strange runes pulsed, shifting and rearranging like a lock turning its gears.
Pacifica grabbed Mabel’s sleeve. “Fix it. Fix it right now. ”
“I—I don’t know how!” Mabel scanned the pictures in a panic. Her pulse pounded in her ears. The journal’s notes were frantic, scribbled, unfinished.
She swallowed hard. This is a test.
Pacifica was still shaking her arm. “Mabel. Talk to me. ”
Mabel’s hands clenched into fists. “It’s a puzzle. A security measure. We triggered the trap, so now we have to solve something to get out.”
Pacifica exhaled sharply. “Oh, great, I love pop quizzes where the wrong answer means death. ”
The glow brightened. The shifting symbols slowed, forming a perfect ring around them. And in the center—
A single symbol burned into the stone.
It looked like an eye.
A low hum vibrated through the air, and the whispering grew louder.
A voice—clear this time.
“Speak the truth.”
Mabel and Pacifica exchanged looks.
Pacifica lifted a brow. “Okay. Is that, like, a riddle? Or is it literally just telling us to say something true?”
Mabel swallowed. “I… don’t know.”
The cavern shuddered again, and the glowing eye narrowed.
“Speak.”
Mabel took a shaky breath. “Uh—okay, um. My name is Mabel Pines. I—” She hesitated. “I, uh, like making sweaters?”
Silence.
Then— BOOM.
The cavern shook violently.
Pacifica threw her hands up. “ MABEL. ”
“ Okay, okay! ” Mabel scrambled back, thinking fast. It had rejected her answer. Why? What was she missing?
Pacifica was pacing now. “This is so dumb. If this thing wants truth, fine. I’ll go.” She crossed her arms. “I’m Pacifica Northwest. My parents are the worst. ”
The golden glow flickered.
Mabel’s breath caught. “Wait.”
Pacifica blinked. “...That worked?”
Mabel’s mind raced. “Not just any truth. It wants something personal.”
Pacifica scoffed. “Seriously? What kind of ancient horror entity is out here fishing for deep confessions? ”
The air pulsed again. The voice was patient, but firm.
“Truth.”
Mabel inhaled sharply. “Alright.” Her hands tightened into fists. “Fine.” She stepped forward. “I—” Her stomach twisted. “I acted like I could have things under control. But I didn’t. I made a mistake back then. And I think I made a really big one tonight.”
The cavern hummed.
The eye symbol pulsed once, then rotated. A section of the glowing ring vanished.
Mabel’s heart jumped. That’s it. That’s how we win.
She turned to Pacifica. “Your turn.”
Pacifica scowled. “This is stupid.”
Mabel shot her a look. “Would you rather die in a truth-or-die puzzle?”
Pacifica groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Fine. Whatever. ” She exhaled sharply. “I pretend I don’t care about this town. Or you. Or any of this.” Her voice wavered slightly. “But I do.”
Another hum. Another section of the glowing ring disappeared.
They were doing it.
Mabel turned back to the eye. “Almost there. One more.”
A final pulse. The whispering grew louder.
“The deepest truth.”
The last piece. The hardest one.
And suddenly, Mabel knew.
Her throat tightened.
“I—I wanted to be right.” Her voice was quiet, raw. “I was mad at Dipper. I wanted to prove I didn’t need him. That I could solve something alone.” She clenched her fists. “And now he’s not here, and I hate it.”
Silence.
Then—the final section of the ring vanished.
The glowing eye blinked once—then disappeared.
The cavern went still.
Pacifica let out a shaky breath. “Did we—”
CRACK.
The stone beneath them split.
Mabel’s stomach plummeted. “Oh, come on! ”
Gravity vanished as the floor collapsed beneath them—sending them tumbling into the darkness below.
—
Dipper clutched his flashlight like a lifeline as he and Ford made their way through the abandoned mine. The tunnels stretched in all directions, some half-collapsed, others sloping downward into unsettling darkness. The smell of damp earth filled the air, and every so often, a gust of something cold drifted past them—something that didn’t feel natural.
Ford walked with purpose, map in one hand, a small device in the other that let out soft beeps at irregular intervals. His expression was unreadable, but Dipper knew the look. It was the same one he got when he was onto something big—focused, determined, a little bit terrified.
Dipper, however, was too wired to be quiet.
“Okay, so just to recap,” he said, stepping over a rusted rail track, “we’re crawling into an old mine, following a maybe-sort-of map from your inventory, trying to reach a secret cavern that definitely has bad vibes written all over it—”
Ford sighed. “Yes, Dipper, I was there when we decided this plan.”
“Just making sure we’re on the same page,” he said, adjusting his backpack. “The ‘bad choices but full speed ahead’ page.”
Ford glanced at him. “If you wanted to stay behind—”
“ Nope. ” Dipper cut him off. “Not happening. No way. This is a Pines family disaster.”
Ford didn’t argue.
Instead, he adjusted his glasses and focused on the beeping device in his hand. “The energy readings are getting stronger. We’re close.”
Dipper swallowed hard. He didn’t need a fancy sci-fi scanner to tell him that. Every inch of him felt it—like static in the air, pressing against his skin.
And then—the tunnel sloped downward sharply. The wooden beams holding up the walls groaned, ancient and brittle, but the path ahead was unmistakable. At the very end of the passage, a jagged opening led into an entirely different kind of space.
A cavern.
Not just any cavern, either. Dipper’s breath hitched as he took it in.
The walls glowed faintly with strange, twisting symbols. The floor wasn’t rough like natural caves—it was carved, old but precise, like some kind of ancient structure hidden beneath the town.
And in the center—a massive, gaping hole.
Dipper tightened his grip on his flashlight. “So, uh… you first? ”
Ford exhaled, stepping carefully forward. His boots crunched against loose gravel, echoing eerily in the vast space. “If we’re right, this should connect to wherever Mabel and Pacifica ended up.”
Dipper peered down into the hole. It stretched deep into darkness, a pit of nope.
“...You do have a plan for how we’re getting down there, right?”
Ford smirked slightly. “Would I have come all this way without a plan?”
Dipper shot him a look. “Yes.”
Ford sighed. “Fair point. But in this case—” He reached into his coat and pulled out Mabel’s grappling hook. “Hold on tight. We’re going in.”
Dipper grabbed onto him just as the grappling hook fired—and with a sharp jolt, they dropped into the unknown.
—
Mabel groaned, struggling to push herself up from the rubble. Everything hurt. Her head was spinning, her hands were scraped raw, and the air was thick with dust. Somewhere nearby, Pacifica was coughing, muttering something about how much she hated caves.
She barely had time to process the fact that they were still alive before—
“MABEL?!”
Her heart nearly stopped.
Somewhere above them, a familiar voice echoed through the cavern.
“MABEL?!”
Mabel’s head snapped up so fast her neck cracked. “No way.”
Pacifica squinted through the dust. “Is that—”
Another voice cut through. This one was sharper, older—gruff in a way that made Mabel’s stomach twist.
“Mabel! Hold on, we’re coming down!”
Mabel’s throat went dry. Ford.
Dipper and Ford were here.
For a split second, relief crashed over her like a wave. Then, just as quickly, it was drowned out by something else.
Guilt.
Because they shouldn’t be here. Because she’d been reckless, because she hadn’t thought things through, because this had turned into a mess bigger than anything she could handle alone.
And now her brother was throwing herself straight into the danger she created.
Before she could yell something—anything—two figures dropped down from above. The grappling hook retracted with a mechanical whirr, and in a blur of blue and coral, Dipper Pines hit the ground running.
“MABEL!”
She barely had time to blink before he slammed into her.
“Oof—”
The impact knocked her straight back onto her butt. Dipper wrapped his arms around him way too tight, squeezing the air straight out of her lungs.
For half a second, Mabel just sat there, stunned.
Then, finally, her brain caught up.
He was here. He was safe.
Mabel’s arms moved before she could stop them. She clung to him like a lifeline.
“You’re okay,” she choked out.
Dipper pulled back just enough to smack her shoulder. “ Am I okay?! You fell into a creepy doom cave! ”
Mabel winced. “Ow.”
“And you didn’t call me!” Another smack.
“Ow—Dipper—”
“And Pacifica is also here?!” He threw his hands in the air. “What even is tonight?!”
Behind them, Pacifica groaned. “Trust me, I’m asking the same thing.”
Ford stepped forward, his sharp gaze scanning the cavern. His mouth was set in a firm line, but there was something else in her expression—something bordering on worry.
“Mabel,” he said carefully, “what happened here?”
Mabel swallowed, suddenly feeling very small.
She looked at the wreckage around them—the broken stone, the glowing runes, the unnatural energy still crackling faintly in the air.
She looked at Dipper, his face still flushed with panic, his vest dusted with dirt from the fall.
She looked at Ford, the weight of his expectant stare pressing down on her.
And suddenly, she hated herself.
She had wanted to prove something. That she was capable. That she didn’t need help. That she could solve things on her own.
Instead, she’d nearly gotten herself and Pacifica killed.
Mabel took a shaky breath. “I—I messed up.” Her voice cracked. “I was mad. And reckless. And I didn’t think. ”
Dipper’s face softened.
Ford exhaled, rubbing his temple. “Mabel…”
“I just—I wanted to be right, ” Mabel continued, voice rising, “but I wasn’t, and now I don’t know how bad I screwed things up, and—”
She clenched her fists.
“And I needed you. ”
Silence.
Then—Dipper grabbed her by the cheeks.
“You always have me, dummy.”
Mabel’s breath hitched.
Dipper huffed, squeezing her face. “And you don’t have to do anything alone! You get that, right? Like, do I need to carve it into a rock for you?”
Mabel let out a watery laugh. “Dipper—”
“No, seriously. I will. I have a marker in my backpack.”
Pacifica groaned. “This is actually painful to witness.”
Dipper threw an arm around Mabel’s shoulder. “Shut up, we’re having a moment. ”
Ford cleared his throat. “As touching as this reunion is, we still don’t know exactly what Mabel may have unleashed.”
The air around them hummed.
Dipper pulled away, blinking. “Uh. That wasn’t one of you, right?”
Mabel’s stomach dropped.
Ford turned sharply toward the ruined wall. His eyes narrowed.
“No,” he muttered. “It wasn’t.”
Something moved in the shadows.
And just like that, the moment was over.
A chill rippled through the cavern.
Dipper tightened his grip on Mabel’s sleeve, eyes flicking between Ford and the shifting shadows beyond the broken seal. He had spent the last hours worrying about his sister, and he was not in the mood for whatever fresh nightmare was about to crawl out of the darkness.
Mabel swallowed hard. “Uh. That— that’s not good.”
Ford stepped forward cautiously, scanning the glowing runes along the walls. “I need to confirm something.” His voice was even, but Dipper didn’t miss the tightness in his jaw.
Mabel blinked. “Confirm what? ”
Pacifica threw up her hands. “Hey, how about we skip the dramatic buildup and go straight to the part where you explain what’s about to try and kill us?”
Ford adjusted his glasses. “That’s what I’m trying to determine.” He gestured to Mabel. “Where did you find this place?”
Mabel hesitated, then pointed toward the far side of the cavern, where broken stone and dust still littered the ground. “It was a pillar next to some rubble in the woods.”
Ford’s brows furrowed. He knelt beside one of the carved symbols, running his fingers along the grooves. The light pulsed faintly at his touch, but flickered—like a flame struggling against the wind.
Pacifica took a step back. “Yeah, okay, this place is officially cursed. ”
Ford didn’t respond. He flipped open a journal, skimming the brittle pages. His frown deepened.
Mabel’s stomach twisted.
“Grunkle Ford?”
Silence.
Dipper glanced between them, feeling the tension crackle like static. “Hey, um. I don’t wanna rush the whole ancient horror mystery thing, but if you could sum it up before we all die, that’d be great.”
Ford finally exhaled. He turned the journal toward them, tapping one of the sketches.
A symbol. One that looked eerily similar to the markings circling the cavern.
“This wasn’t just a seal,” he said gravely. “It was a prison. ”
Mabel’s breath caught.
Ford continued, flipping through more pages. “Whoever built this structure—whoever recorded this—warned that something was buried beneath Gravity Falls. Something old. Something that shouldn’t have been disturbed.” He looked up, eyes sharp. “And Mabel may have just let it out.”
A wave of cold settled over them.
Dipper shivered. “So. Just to clarify. We’re dealing with some ancient, mysterious, probably-evil entity that’s been locked up for who-knows-how-long?”
Ford nodded grimly.
Dipper nodded back. “Cool, cool, cool. Love that for us.”
Mabel paled. “There has to be a way to put it back.”
Ford adjusted his coat, eyes flicking toward the shifting shadows. “Possibly. But first, we need to understand what we’re up against.”
A low, distant rumble echoed through the cavern.
Pacifica backed up fast. “Okay, well, how about we understand it from outside the murder cave?”
A sudden gust of wind tore through the cavern. The torches flickered. The walls trembled.
And then, finally—a voice.
Soft. Amused.
And waiting.
“You should not have come.”
It wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be. The words curled around them, filling the air like a slow-moving fog. The torches dimmed further, barely clinging to their flickering light.
Dipper tightened his grip on Mabel’s arm. “Not a fan.”
Mabel swallowed hard, eyes darting to Ford. “Do we run?”
Ford didn’t answer right away. He was staring into the dark, face unreadable, fingers twitching at his side like he was trying to work through a problem in real time. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet.”
Pacifica crossed her arms. “Uh, I dunno, it sounds like we’re dealing with a full-fledged haunting. And I don’t have my usual anti-ghost protection, so let’s wrap this up fast. ”
The air shifted. The ground rumbled.
Then—something moved.
A shadow, not quite solid, peeled itself away from the far wall.
It was massive. Not in a physical way—more like it was stretching through the space, twisting and unraveling like something that didn’t fully belong in this dimension. Its form flickered, shifting between different shapes, never settling on one. A hollow echo followed each movement, like a voice speaking from just beyond the edges of reality.
Mabel’s breath hitched. “I think that’s our guy.”
The entity didn’t lunge, didn’t roar—it just existed, the weight of it pressing against them like a deep-sea current pulling everything down.
Then, with something almost like curiosity, it tilted its head.
“What do you hope to gain?”
Mabel clenched her fists. “We’re putting you back. ”
The entity laughed. Or maybe it didn’t. The sound wasn’t quite there, more like the suggestion of laughter, rippling through the space.
“You cannot.”
Dipper squared his shoulders. “Oh yeah? Watch us.”
Ford took a slow step forward, voice measured. “You were sealed away for a reason.”
The entity shifted again, flickering through shapes—tall, short, a thousand limbs, then none at all.
“By children who did not understand what they buried.
Ford’s jaw tightened. “And yet, here we are, stopping you again. ”
Pacifica grabbed Dipper’s sleeve. “Please tell me you have an actual plan, because bantering with the nightmare blob is not a strategy.”
Dipper’s mind raced. “There had to be something in the journal—something they missed, something they could use. His eyes flicked across the pages, desperation mounting.
And then—he saw it.
A small, scribbled note, almost hidden in the margins:
It feeds on fear. It grows from doubt.
But a fool’s confidence is its greatest enemy.
Dipper blinked. His stomach flipped.
He looked up at Mabel.
Mabel, who faced down a multi-dimensional time traveler without flinching.
Mabel, who once threatened the entire apocalypse with nothing but glitter and attitude.
Mabel, whose greatest power was her sheer, unshakable belief that things would work out.
A stupid, reckless idea formed in his head.
Dipper turned to the girls, wide-eyed. “Girls.”
Mabel met his gaze. “Yeah?”
He grinned. “Girls,” he said again, “I need you to annoy this thing to death.”
Before anyone could stop them, they launched forward.
“HEY!” Pacifica shouted, hands on her hips. “WHAT EVEN ARE YOU? A SHADOW? A WEIRD SMOKE THING? PICK A SHAPE, MAN, YOU LOOK LIKE A GLITCHY VIDEO GAME!!”
The entity staggered.
Mabel kept going. “Seriously, who locked you up? A bunch of kids? That’s EMBARRASSING, dude. You got sealed away by, what, some ancient fifth graders? Even Gideon lasted longer against us!”
The air shuddered.
Dipper felt it instantly.
The thing was weakening.
It needed fear. It fed on doubt. But Mabel and Pacifica were throwing pure, unfiltered words at it, and it had no idea how to handle it.
Ford smirked slightly. “Brilliant.”
Dipper grabbed Ford’s wrist. “Come on, we have to push it back while it’s off balance!”
Ford barely had time to react before Dipper yanked him forward.
The two of them ran straight for the center of the cavern—toward the shifting, flickering entity—toward the half-broken symbols that had once held it prisoner.
Ford followed, moving fast, flipping through the journal. “We need to restore the seal! The runes should still hold—”
“GUYS!” Mabel yelled. “IT’S GETTING MAD!!”
The entity lurched, its form unraveling, shadows spiraling wildly as if it was losing control.
Pacifica gritted her teeth. “Then let’s make sure it stays mad.”
She kicked a loose rock straight at its center. It did absolutely nothing.
But it did make Mabel scream, “YEAH! GET ‘IM!”
Dipper reached the edge of the glowing runes. He pressed both palms to the stone. “Ford! What do I do?”
Ford flipped to the right page, scanning. “The runes must be activated —the old way!”
Dipper blinked. “The—what—”
Mabel gasped again. “I KNOW THIS ONE!”
Before anyone could stop her, she slammed her hands onto the stone and yelled, “ DOOM! DESTINY! DIPPIN’ DOTS! ”
Light exploded.
A shockwave blasted outward, slamming into the entity. It reeled, its form breaking apart, the shadows twisting violently as the runes blazed to life.
For the first time—it screamed.
A deep, echoing wail tore through the cavern as the energy surged, pulling the entity inward, sealing it away once more.
Dipper and Mabel threw themselves backward as a final flash of light filled the space—and then—silence.
Nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing.
Dipper slowly pushed himself up. “Did… did we just…”
Ford let out a slow breath. “It’s over.”
Mabel flopped onto her back. “That was awesome. ”
Pacifica groaned. “That was insane. ”
Dipper gave her a thumbs-up.
Mabel let out a short, breathless laugh. His hands were still shaking, but… they did it. They actually did it.
She turned to Dipper, something heavy in her chest.
“...Thanks,” she muttered.
Dipper beamed. “I always got your back.”
Mabel let out another laugh. Then, finally, she collapsed onto the cavern floor.
“I am so ready to go home.”
—
The afternoon sun bathed the Mystery Shack in warm gold, casting long shadows across the rickety porch. Everything looked deceptively normal—like they hadn’t just sealed away an ancient horror the night before.
Mabel sat on the steps, writing a letter to her parents. Her hand still ached from the cavern’s energy surge, but she ignored it, jotting down every detail before the memory could blur. She wanted it all recorded—how they found the entity, how they tricked it, how Dipper had ultimately saved the day by just being his over-the-top self.
The door behind her creaked open.
Pacifica stepped out, arms crossed, sunglasses perched on her nose. “Hey, dork. You still writing about your ‘big, important adventure’?”
Mabel shot her a look. “Yes, actually.”
Pacifica smirked. “Good. Make sure you include the part where I kicked a rock at an ancient nightmare.”
“I mean, it didn’t really do anything—”
“It was symbolic, ” she interrupted, sitting down next to her. “Which makes it important.
Mabel snorted but kept writing.
A loud crash from inside made them both wince.
Dipper’s voice rang out. “GRUNKLE STAN, NO—THAT’S WHERE I KEEP MY BABBA CDs—”
Another crash.
Then Stan’s voice: “WHO PUT THIS HERE? IT’S IN MY WAY.”
Pacifica sighed. “Yeah, I’m definitely leaving before I get dragged into that.” She stood up, stretching. “Welp. This has been weird, but I’m going home.”
Mabel glanced up. “You sure you don’t wanna stay? We’re probably gonna make celebration pancakes.”
Pacifica hesitated for half a second too long.
Then she scoffed. “I have actual food at my house. Not just sugar in different forms.”
Mabel smirked. “Your loss.”
Pacifica rolled her eyes and started down the steps.
But before she disappeared down the road, she called back over her shoulder: “...Hey. If you do almost destroy reality again, maybe invite me sooner next time?”
Mabel blinked. Then—she grinned. “Deal.”
Pacifica didn’t say anything, just waved lazily before heading off.
Mabel exhaled, tapping his pen against the letter.
A shadow fell over him as Ford stepped onto the porch, holding a mug of hot chocolate. He handed it to Mabel, settling beside her. “Still writing?”
Mabel nodded. “Gotta make sure Mom and Dad have all the details in case something else gets loose.”
Ford chuckled. “You’ve learned well.” He took a slow sip of his own coffee, watching the tree line. “You did good, Mabel. All of you. ”
Mabel felt warmth bloom in her chest.
Before she could say anything, the door slammed open again.
Dipper burst onto the porch, arms raised. “Okay, I have two announcements.”
Mabel and Ford both turned.
“One—pancakes are happening. You’re welcome.” He pointed dramatically at Mabel. “ Two. ”
Mabel raised an eyebrow. “Uh—”
Dipper lunged, grabbing her arm.
“WE’RE HAVING A SIBLING BONDING DAY.”
“Dipper—”
“Nope. You almost got trapped in spooky ghost prison, which means we’re hanging out today.”
“Alright, but I get first pick of pancakes!”
Dipper grinned. “Deal.”
Ford chuckled as the twins dragged themselves inside.
The door shut behind them, and just like that, another Gravity Falls adventure was over.
For now.