It's 2013 and a gaggle of girls are having a sleepover. Last year this is the part of the night where they would have called for Bloody Mary.

It's not the bravest one, but the one with the most to prove, who holds up the hand mirror and recites the incantation in one big rush: "AlcortheDreambenderAlcortheDreambenderAlcorthe Dreambender!"

In later years they'll argue over what exactly he looked like in that moment when he seemed to ooze up from the living room rug.

"A middle schooler, just like us, only with terrible eyes!"

"A wild animal in human shape!"

"Whatever he was he was covered in triangles."

"Aaah!" goes Alcor.

"Aaah!" go the girls.

Someone throws the mirror at him but he's already gone in a puff of theatrical smoke that sets off every alarm in the house- leaving the girls to rush out into the dark. The girl who managed to speak his name is uninvited from the next party.

This doesn't discourage anyone.

(It perhaps discouraged Dipper but no one talks about that.)

It's 2033 and Rebecca stands in front of her bathroom mirror. "Alcor the Dreambender Alcor the Dreambender Alcor the Dreambender."

A note from nowhere hits her with the force of a softball.

STOP SUMMONING DEMONS. :((((

At school the next day she will bring the note in but no one will be impressed. (Some girls will do anything for attention, dontchaknow.)

During her free period she'll touch the blue-black bruise against her cheek and imagine what it must be like to write with long demonic claws digging into the sides of the pen. She writes a story about it in her math notebook.

(Dipper tilts himself to read it over her shoulder. It's the sort of thing Mabel would like.)

Two cultists crush mirror shards beneath their boots. "I told you it was just a story."

The taller of the two shrugs a beefy shoulder. "Was worth a shot. Cheeper than candles and the blood of a virgin."

"And less safe. Or were we hopping The Dreambender would just shout 'boo?'"

"I put up a summoning circle."

"To hell with your summoning circle."

"Maybe someday if I keep practicing."

"If you stop being such a doofus when our guest arrives." The smaller of the two pulls the hood over his head to hide the bead of sweat dripping down his neck.

The children in the other room shriek again.

The taller cultist grins. "He'll be about soon, yeah."

"Yes. Only amateurs use mirrors."

It's 2083 and a boy named Jim stares into a mud puddle. "Alcor the Dreambender Alcor the Dreambender Alcor the-"

Nothing happens. A government Mage, trained to note instances of unauthorized demonology, briefly puts him on a watch list but removes him again once she confirms the boy is sufficiently harmless.

Jim yawns.

(Alcor has no time, no patience, to bother with people without the courtesy to be useful, interesting, or familiar.)

"AlcortheDorkbender. AlcortheDorkLord. Alcor the-"

"Mizar, quit it!"

The daughter of a historian whispers into her math book. "Billcipherbillcipherbillcipher."

Toby sneezes.

The years elude him now- time rushes through his fingers at such a lazy pace a creature that was once a demon, was once a human, will not bother himself to keep track.

Still he can hear it: Alcor Alcor Alcor.

The deity reflects, but he can't connect to the call.

DipperDipperDipper.

There's another image he's waiting to see.