Chapter Text
Even when you think the battle is over, a war is still waiting. It might come in a week, a month, or even a year—but it will strike when you least expect it, waiting for your defenses to fall.
And so the story begins.
New beginnings, guards down, and three curious kids carrying the legacy of a family that once defeated a demon… a demon destined to return, though in a different form and for different reasons. It came. And now a curse rests on a child who never asked for this fate.
Yet she stands tall, and smiles through her burden.
She sprinted through the forest, sweat running down her forehead. This was definitely not how she planned to spend the first day of her summer holiday.
Running from monsters, clenching the strap of her bag, and her long brown hair catching in the wind, making a tangled knot at the end.
She didn’t even know what was chasing her, and she didn’t even want to know.
“Argh! Where’s the bloody curse magic when I need it?!” she thought. Finally, she could see the clearing where the Mystery Shack was located. She ran faster as the monster roared behind her. She only stopped running after entering the Shack, the door banging behind her as she slid down to the floor.
“Damn, kid, what in the world happened to you?” a voice asked.
She looked up. Stanley Pines, her great-great-uncle, even at his advanced age, stood tall and always haggled for a good deal.
The girl got up, tired legs shaking. “Oh, nothing, Gruncle Stan!” she smiled. “Oh! I got you some weird stuff to sell.” She showed him her bag, full of strange things she had found in the forest.
“Great, Iris. And I got you some metal from the junkyard for your rings.” He pointed at two bags full of metal. “Every tourist loves them, so chop chop—go make us more money.” He pushed her toward the bags.
“Only if you pay me.” She crossed her arms.
It was their deal. She made the jewelry he sold, and he paid her for each batch.
He sighed and pulled out his wallet, giving her the last hundred bucks he owed her. “You really don’t let anything slide, do ya?”
She took them with a smile.
“And you do remember what happened last time you didn’t pay me four times, don’t you?” she chuckled. She might have been ten and new to the business, but when he didn’t pay her for four batches that took her a lot of time and sweat to make—and were a great success—she gave him a box of rocks, making him think it was the fifth batch he didn’t have to pay for.
When he opened the box the next morning for the customers to choose from… let’s just say no one was happy with her revenge.
She still got the money, though. And Stan never dared not to pay her again.
“Of course I do. Worst day of my life—but extremely funny. I think everyone in the Shack got the memo to never mess with you,” he laughed.
Iris smiled, picking up the bags of metal and leaving her bag of weird sellable things with Stan.
“Is Dad home?” she asked.
It was natural for him not to be—or if he was, he’d be cooped up with Gruncle Ford in the lab, which she wasn’t allowed to enter. Weirdly, her dad let her, but Ford didn’t. Nobody knew—or maybe nobody told her—why.
“He’s in the lab, as usual,” Gruncle Stan said, going back to the gift shop counter. “And you know Ford’s rules.”
“Never go in the lab or anywhere near my things,” they both said, though Iris said it in a mocking tone.
“Yeah, yeah, I know! What is that guy’s obsession with me touching his shit?!” She dropped the bags and crossed her arms. “It’s honestly stupid that he lets six-year-olds into the dangerous lab, full of weird bugs, monsters frozen in capsules, brains and hearts in jars—but not a twelve-year-old girl.”
She rolled her eyes at Stanley’s low chuckle.
“Is it because I’m a girl and they’re boys? Or because I’m cursed and he doesn’t have the balls or the courage to be close to me?”
Her marks started flaring up. She needed to calm down—but she couldn’t bring herself to care.
“Iris, I don’t know why—” he started, getting cautiously closer. She was tired of that. Of people thinking she was dangerous.
“Lies! You know. You have to know. You wouldn’t be all defensive if you didn’t,” she stepped back. “I’m tired of everyone acting like I’m some stupid little kid!”
Her eyes changed from their usual bright blue to yellow with jagged pupils. That was a first.
“Just tell me the damn truth for once!” she screamed, tears threatening to spill, the shack felt as it was shaking ever so slightly.
Stanley raised his hands and stopped walking. “Kiddo, I really don’t know why he’s like that, I swear. If I did, I’d whack him until he let you in. Anyone would.”
There were loud footsteps from both the main stairs and the lab stairs—her dad and Ford from below, and her aunties and cousins from above, if she was correct.
She was, of course, correct.
Her dad was the first to reach her. “Iris—” he said softly, stepping closer, hands visible. When she turned her head toward him, he paused for a moment before continuing.
“It’s okay. I’m here.”
He hugged her, fearless as always. He knew she would never hurt him. He was her safe space, her lighthouse when she needed it most—her father.
She let him hug her and slumped against him. It wasn't the first time she had reacted like this to the subject.
“Dips?” Auntie Mabel called out. Her sons stood behind her—Eliot and Oliver—staring at Iris in fear. “Is everything alright?”
It was the first time the twins had seen the curse active. Iris was always careful not to show them. Of course this had to be what ruined it.
Iris hid her face against her father’s chest. Pacifica looked at her with pity, then noticed Ford taking notes in his journal and immediately shot him a warning look.
“This is not the time, Stanford,” she said.
Dipper guided Iris to her room. It was small, but she liked it—it was hers. Two bookshelves packed with books, more stacked beside them, a table with study materials and jewelry-making tools. Cozy.
She sat on the bed pulling a blanket that Mabel made around her shoulders.
“I-I’m sorry…” she whispered as her dad sat beside her after closing the door.
“It’s not your fault, baby girl,” he said, hugging her as she leaned into him. “You can’t control it. And this is frustrating—and unfair—to you.” He rubbed her arm gently.
“I just want to know why,” she sobbed. “Why does he hate me? Why does he think I’m not good enough for his stupid science? I don’t even care about the science. I just want to know why I’m not enough.”
Dipper sighed and kissed the top of her head. “I know, kiddo, I know. But it’s Ford being Ford. He’s been through a lot… and anything demon-related, he isn’t the friendliest toward.”
Iris nodded.
They stayed like that until dinnertime.
At dinner, Iris apologized to everyone and explained the curse to Eliot and Oliver. Surprisingly, they thought it was cool. Stanley laughed it off, and Auntie Mabel and Auntie Pacifica jokingly told her not to blow up the house. Everyone laughed—except, of course, Ford. But that was normal at this point.
It was late at night when Iris began hearing a strange voice calling her from the forest. It sounded desperate, begging for help, saying it was bleeding out. She could answer—but something told her to follow it instead. Even without knowing where to go, it felt like she did know. Physically.
So, without waking anyone up, she packed a bag, slipped on her shoes, and pulled a jacket over her pajamas. She quietly sneaked out, Stan passed out in front of the TV as always.
She walked toward the voice, her hair in a low ponytail, her dad’s pocket knife clenched in her hand.
Whatever is calling her… knows her.