"So," Wendy asked McGucket, gesturing to the pictures she'd laid on the table, "you're saying all this equipment is for scanning stuff underground?"

They had all agreed to a morning meeting at Susan's diner. Despite the early hour, the place was bustling with regulars: lonely old timers looking for a bit of company, harried parents trying to rein in children on a sugar high, and the rare loners looking only for a place to read their paper in peace.

None seemed to pay any mind to the so-called Pines Rescue Squad. McGucket was on his third cup of coffee, while Soos, Candy and Grenda had devoured an alarming number of pancakes. Wendy only poked at her plate, her expression unusually grim. Pacifica was feeding bits of waffles covered in syrup to the llamasaur. When Susan had caught sight of him, she had said, "What a cute lil' fella!" before returning with doggie treats. The llamasaur had sniffed them suspiciously and refused to eat them.

"Ah'm 'fraid so," McGucket answered. "Seems like military grade stuff."

"How long have we got 'til they find the lab?" Candy asked.

McGucket shrugged. "Ah dunno. One or two days, at the most."

"Dammit," Wendy said, slamming the table with her fist. "Everything we've done so far… it would all be for nothing!"

"Well, I'm always down for a little sabotage!" Grenda said, pounding her fist into her open palm.

"And make them even more suspicious than they are?" Pacifica said. "You want more of these jerks to investigate the town, is that it?"

Susan came by their booth, filling McGucket's mug for the fourth time. "Are you dears doing okay?" she asked with a smile. "You all have such long faces!"

"Everything's fine, Ma'am!" Soos replied, tipping his cap. "We're just a bit stumped, is all."

"It's them government fellas giving you trouble, isn't it?" Susan seemed lost in thought for a moment. "I could help, if you'd like! I know there's not much I can do, but I hate seeing you kids look so down!"

"The offer's appreciated," McGucket said. "So's the coffee!"

"Alright!" said Susan. "If you need anything, just gimme a call then!" With a wave of the hand, she left to continue making her round.

Pacifica turned to Soos, pinching her mouth. "'Everything's fine?' Do you even hear what you say sometimes?"

"You have anything better to contribute, Northwest?" Wendy said dryly. "If you want to be a pain in someone's ass so bad, why don't you march up to the Shack to see if the feds need company?"

Pacifica puffed out her cheeks, seemingly on the verge of a tantrum. By her feet, the llamasaur let out a low growl.

"Don't fight, guys!" Soos said. "I'm sure we'll come up with something! Melody's still making calls, I'm sure it will— "

"As if that would change anything!" Pacifica rolled her eyes. "Ugh! If only I could get my parents to sue those rotten jerks…"

They heard a snort coming from the neighbouring booth. A figure in a trench coat and a hat was glancing at them from over his shoulder. The man sported a beard and a rather ruddy nose.

"Wait!" said Candy. "You're one of the gnomes!"

"Oh god, no, don't tell me," Pacifica said, paling. "There's more than one. And they're all stacked up and wearing a trench coat. And Susan never noticed?!"

Jeff the gnome scoffed. "We've been doing this trick since before you were born, kiddo." The other gnomes—still hidden under the trench coat—were making squeaks of assent. "Besides, I don't think she minds, as long as we pay."

"But where d'you get the money?" Soos said, sounding bemused and delighted at the same time.

"That's not the point!" Pacifica said. "We told you guys to lay low! Do you really want to get caught by those government agents?!"

"Weren't you supposed to get rid of those guys? That's what you said you'd do, in exchange for us staying out of town." Jeff quirked a brow. "You're not doing a good job of it, by the way."

"Why, you little—"

"Pacifica!" Both Grenda and Candy grabbed her, keeping her from climbing on her seat to take a swing at Jeff's face.

"Shut up!" Wendy said, jabbing a finger at the gnome. "You don't know what we're up against! You think it's easy, just the six of us against the freakin' government?"

Jeff seemed unimpressed by the intensity of her glare. "Six of you? Huh. No wonder you guys are having so much trouble."

"Wait, what?" Wendy said. "What's that s'posed to mean?"

Jeff jumped off the shoulders of his gnome companion, before exiting his booth. "Well, nice speaking with you idiots, but me and my buds have to work on clearing your messes. Tootaloo!"

And he and the other two gnomes took off, saluting a rather nonplussed Susan on their way out. She still gave them a bright smile and said, "Thank you! Be sure to come back soon, dears!"

Pacifica's mouth hung open in an unflattering way, while Wendy muttered curses under her breath. Soos, for his part, only blinked guilelessly.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "They forgot to leave a tip for Susan!"

The inside of the temple was dark as a tomb, and the children remained close to Ford as he led them through dusty corridors. They advanced slowly, careful not to stumble on the rubble and broken pieces of furniture littering the way.

According to Zuri's recollections, the temple boasted an impressive library. The deeper they went in, the grimmer she grew. Scorch marks blackened the walls in some places. Here and there, they found personal effects, clearly left in a hurry—clothes, bits of parchments, even toys.

Eventually, they reached what they were seeking.

Ford's mouth hung open at the sight of the place. The library was several floors high, built in the same pyramidal shape as the outside of the temple. Starlight peered out of a glass ceiling, dappling the room in patches of silver. The middle portion was open, with decayed tapestries hanging from the railings on every floor. Other than the rows and rows of books and parchments, Ford found several lounging chairs, some still covered with cushions. The pitiful state of the library tugged at his heartstrings; he tried to imagine how his younger self would have reacted to such a place, back when it was at its full splendour.

"So," Zuri finally asked after they were all done gawking, "what it is we're looking for, exactly?"

"Information on any spell or ritual that could stop someone from being possessed." Ford rubbed his chin. "We have such things in our dimension, it stands that yours would too."

"Someone being possessed…" Zuri repeated, sounding unusually contemplative. "You said that this Bill Cipher guy can control someone's body if they made a deal with him?"

"Yes. It's not a pleasant experience, that much I can tell you."

It was hard to tell in this lighting, but Zuri's cheeks seemed to pale. "Huh. You know, it reminds me… The one leading those loons, Lady Malakh, well… you saw how she is. She acts like she's already got one foot in the grave. But there was… well, there was that one time…"

"What time?" Ford prompted. Next to him, Dipper and Mabel exchanged a worried glance.

"Well, that one time, I remember her being just… unhinged. Like someone had just flicked a switch and her whole personality had changed."

Ford felt a chill down his spine. "Oh."

Zuri pointedly did not meet his eyes. "It was just a little over a year ago. I was hanging around that room with the portal, trying to understand what was going on…" She shook her head. "I remember her grabbing me by the arm so hard—like, her nails were digging into my skin. And her voice… it sounded so wrong. She said I'd have a bad time if I kept snooping around. I couldn't see her face 'cause of the mask, but I knew she was grinning. I managed to get away, but…"

"You don't need to go on, if you'd rather not," Ford told her.

Zuri stopped, shaking with a full-body shudder. Kyan patted her arm, looking concerned.

"That two-eyed freak," she muttered. "I always knew she was bad news, even when I was a kid."

Ford frowned. "You met her as a child?"

"Well, she lived at the temple too, you know." Zuri glanced at her brother. "Didn't the Oracle choose her as her successor or something?"

Kyan held up his hands. "Don't ask me! I was just four, I don't remember anything about her!"

"Yeah…" Zuri continued. "No one liked her, even after the Oracle chose her. Especially after the Oracle chose her. Everyone was so mad, it was all the adults talked about…"

"Why?" Ford said. "What had she done to make everyone dislike her so?"

Zuri seemed embarrassed for a moment. "I dunno. She was just this weirdo creeping around and never speaking to anyone. It's not like I went out my way to spend time with her."

"It's because of her eyes, isn't it?" Dipper said, voice sharp with judgment. "You called her a two-eyed freak. She was different, and people didn't like that."

Zuri scowled at him. "Get off my back, kid. She is a freak. Or d'you just want to conveniently forget that she just kidnapped your uncle?"

"I know, but…" Dipper's voice died down to a mutter, and he could say no more.

She was different. A freak. Ford mulled over his nephew's words, an unpleasant feeling churning in the pit of his stomach. His hands—his mutant, freakish six-fingered hands—tightened into fists.

"Regardless," Ford said, "all of our attention should be focused on saving Stanley. We need to split up. That way, we'll cover more ground."

"Alright!" said Mabel. "Me, Dipper and Kyan, we'll make one team, and Zuri and Grunkle Ford, you two can search together!"

Ford nodded. "Good idea, my dear. That way, Kyan and Zuri will be our translators. I'll climb to the highest floor, then make my way down. You kids start from the first floor, before joining up with us in the middle."

The twins responded with a crisp military-style salute, earning themselves baffled stares from Kyan and Zuri.

"Aye-aye, cap'n!" Dipper and Mabel both said in near synchronicity.

Ford managed a smile. What would he do without those two?

"Alright," he said. "Good luck, everyone."

Faced with the prospect of searching rows and rows of bookcases in near darkness, Dipper did the only sensible thing.

He groaned and rubbed his face with both hands.

"You guys don't have an equivalent for the Dewey Decimal system, do you?" he asked Kyan, voice as dry as sandpaper.

"The doo-what now?"

"A classification system? What about an index?"

"I don't know..." Kyan scratched the back of his head. "This is the first time I've ever been in a library…"

Mabel threw her arm around Dipper's shoulders. "C'mon, you guys! Less whining, more searching!"

She showed uncharacteristic focus as they poured through pages and pages of obscure texts written in otherworldly symbols. That was odd. Dipper figured she would have eventually gotten bored and make a nuisance out of herself while he and Kyan did most of the work. The fact that Grunkle Stan's life hung in the balance probably served as proper motivation. The reminder weighed heavily in the pit of Dipper's stomach. Grunkle Stan had to be alright. He had to be.

Kyan worked as best he could to translate the texts they found. Dipper couldn't help but feel a little jealous every time he saw the other boy conjuring a light to read by. Kyan did it so easily, like he didn't even have to think about it. Dipper knew it was childish, but it was annoying to have worked so hard without anything to show for it. The only moment he seemed to feel the spark of magic that Kyan had described to him was when the other boy cast a spell.

Dipper eventually found what seemed to be a pile of drapes tucked away in a corner of the library. With further examination, he realized those were actually tapestries.

"What's that?" Dipper said, showing one tapestry to Kyan. "That's not your Lord of Twilight, isn't it? It's some kind of snake, I think?"

"Ooh, he's got feathers on his head!" said Mabel. "What a cute widdle guy!"

"Look, he's on another one," Dipper continued. "This time, he's with that axolotl guy."

Kyan examined the tapestry, mouthing the words written around the creatures. "It's some kind of poem, just give me a sec. It goes a bit like this, I'd say."

Heavenly fire, wind passing through the grass,
Morning and evening, the lords come and leave,
Following the same star, never to meet.

"Sorry about the bad translation," Kyan completed. "The original was supposed to rhyme."

"Aw," said Mabel. "That's kind of sad. Why can't those two lord guys meet again?"

"I don't know," Kyan said. "It's strange. I've never heard of this Feathered Serpent."

"Maybe he was a friend of your Lord of Twilight dude!"

"Maybe?" Kyan admitted, looking unconvinced. "Those tapestries look ancient, we should be careful with them…"

"You dorks found anything interesting yet?" Zuri's voice came from the other end of the bookshelf. She quirked an eyebrow at the sight of them surrounded by the pile of tapestries. "Huh. Apparently not."

"What's that?" Ford said, approaching Dipper and the others. "A feathered serpent? Fascinating! In Mesoamerican civilizations—"

Zuri rolled all three of her eyes. "Who cares? Does it have anything to do with what we're doing?"

"No, it doesn't," Ford said, sounding actually a bit miffed. He then cleared his throat. "Zuri and I were unlucky in our search. You children found anything on your end?"

Dipper glanced at the notes he'd taken in his journal. "Let's see… we found a spell to make yourself heavier or lighter, a spell to counter other spells, a spell to make sparkles—"

"You mean the Best Spell Ever!" Mabel interrupted him.

"—a spell to project your soul out of your body," Dipper continued, completely ignoring his sister. "And, uh…" Dipper snapped his book shut. "And that's it. We didn't find anything about keeping someone from being possessed."

"Hmm," Ford said, crouching to inspect what they had found. "Say, that tapestry… it's the same design as the one you have back at the base, isn't it? I recognize the symbols. Do they mean anything?"

Zuri looked at her brother. "It's in the old language, right? I can't read it, but Kyan can."

"Yes, well, it's the same language we use for ritual spells," Kyan replied.

It was stupidly obvious, Dipper realized. He looked up his uncle, seeing the same expression dawning on the older man's face.

"It's a spell!" Dipper and Ford said, simultaneously. "A ritual spell!"

Kyan's eyes widened as well. "Wait, wait, wait! I think that might be the spell that the Oracle used to go into her trances! Her and all the Oracles that came before!"

"Go into her what?" Mabel asked him.

"That's how she made her prophecies," Grunkle Ford said. "It has to be!"

Kyan held the tapestry closer. "The incantation is kinda like the one you use to project your soul out of your body, but it's got an added part. The spell caster guides the other person's soul toward…" He squinted his eyes, mumbling a little. "A world without end? A world outside of time? I don't get it..."

Grunkle Ford got to his feet, looking very serious all of a sudden. "Do it on me."

"W-What?" Dipper said. "You can't be serious, Great Uncle Ford! You heard what Kyan said, you'd be ejecting your soul from your body!"

"What if something goes wrong?" Mabel added. "What if your soul gets stuck out of your body for too long?"

Kyan grimaced. "That'd be no good. Your body would die. They're right, Mr. Ford, it's too dangerous!"

"And so is letting Stanley in the hands of that insane cult," Ford replied gruffly. "I'll be fine. If Jheselbraum and the previous Oracles can do it, then so can I."

Dipper opened his mouth, a dozen arguments ready to pour out. With a frown, he snapped it shut. Grunkle Ford wouldn't listen to him, anyway. Dipper would act the same if he was in his shoes—if it was Mabel's life on the line.

"Okay," he managed. "What can we do to help, then?"

"Keep an eye on my body while I'll be, well, gone," Grunkle Ford replied. "That would be helpful enough."

"Right," Dipper croaked. He swallowed nervously before adding, "Be careful, please?"

"Pretty please?" Mabel said.

Grunkle Ford squeezed both of their hands. "Of course. You don't have to worry about me. I'm always careful."

Dipper frowned, opting not to call out the obvious lie. Instead, he only grabbed Mabel's offered hand, taking comfort in the familiar touch.

Grunkle Ford turned to Kyan. "There's no time to lose. Let's start."

Kyan only gave a grim nod in response.

A man was falling.

Where was he? A void surrounded him, as oppressing as the abyss hidden in the depths of the seas. Desperately, the man tried to recall what he had been doing. He could only remember the voices of two children wishing for his safe return. Who were they?

There was a name burning on his tongue—the name of the one he needed to save. Why was it so hard to remember? His head hurt whenever he tried to focus. Wait. What were those noises, coming from the distance?

Voices? Familiar voices. The sounds were muffled, as if coming from far away.

He frowned, straining to hear. Somewhere, someone was calling for help.

His gaze snapped downward.

A man was ascending.

Where was he? The eye-searing colours of the wound in the sky had disappeared, leaving him in pure darkness. Desperately, the man tried to recall where he had ended up. He could only remember his right eye flaring with pain. What had happened to him?

There was a name burning on his tongue—the false name his parents had given him. Why was it so hard to remember? His eye was still painful, making it hard to stay focused. Wait. What were those flickering lights, in the distance?

Stars? No, not bright enough. The lights were muted, as if passing through a mist.

He blinked, straining to see. Opening his mouth, he called for help.

His gaze snapped upward.

There was someone else. A figure, going in the opposite direction.

For the briefest of moments, they locked gazes. It was like looking into a mirror, only to find an imperfect reflection. Shorter, paler hair, a face lined by hardships. One brown eye, widening in shock behind black-rimmed glasses.

Sixer! the imperfect reflection cried out, reaching with a five-fingered hand.

One second later, and the other man was gone.

There was someone else. A figure, going in the opposite direction.

For the briefest of moments, they locked gazes. It was like looking into a mirror, only to find an imperfect reflection. Thicker, darker hair, a face lined by fatigue. Brown eyes, widening in shock behind horn-rimmed glasses.

Lee! the imperfect reflection cried out, reaching with a six-fingered hand.

One second later, and the other man was gone.

The deeper he fell, the more distinctively he could hear the voices coming from the darkness.

Why would I want to do anything with the person who sabotaged my entire future?! a teenage boy was screaming.

Thank you? You think I want to thank you after what you did, thirty years ago?! came the reprimands of an older man.

You ruined your own life! the same voice shouted, sounding somewhat younger.

Slowly, memories trickled to the forefront of the falling man's mind. Yes… those were moments of his life.

Stanford Pines' life.

He gasped, closing his six-fingered so tightly the nails dug in his palms. Hundreds of voices whispered or shouted his name. But that was not the name Ford needed to remember.

He mustered all of his strength to shout, Help me! He'd come here looking for assistance. He'd come here because he was desperate. Ford felt sluggish, like a man struggling to keep his head out of the water. Yet, he fought on, pleading yet again for help.

No one answered.

The higher he soared, the more images he could see flashing out the corner of his eye.

A teenage boy, raising his hands in an attempt to stave off his father's rage as the man grabbed him by the collar.

An old man sitting alone in his bed and rubbing his bruised cheek, shoulders hunched like he was carrying the weight of the world.

A young man in shabby clothes, eyes wide with shock as a bespectacled man in a long ragged coat lunged at him.

Slowly, memories trickled to the forefront of the man's mind. Yes… those were moments of his life.

…whose life, exactly?

He choked, five-fingered hands going to his throat. Darkness overtook everything, and the scenes from his life vanished from view. He struggled uselessly as blackness filled his sight.

The man with the false name tried to speak, but no word came out. Why was he here? Who had sent him here? The man felt exhaustion too deep to put into words, as if he had spent years without ever sleeping. Maybe if he just shut his eye, he could finally rest.

No one came to rouse him.

Help me! Help me! Please!

Ford Pines shouted at the top of his lungs. The more he remembered, the more he heard voices, coming from the depths of his memories. And the clearer his mind grew, the more the void receded. Lights peppered his view, piercing the darkness enough that it gradually turned into the same shade as an evening sky.

Wow, a six-fingered handshake! a child's voice called out. It's a full finger friendlier than normal!

I-I can't believe it! another child's voice came through. You're the author of the journals!

It was as if a bolt of electricity had coursed through his body. Suddenly, he remembered it all—the temple, the children, the ritual.

The reason why he was here.

He was here to find a way to save Stanley.

Ford's fall stopped abruptly. The sky lightened again, now turning a softer blue. Pink, misty clouds filled the air as the voices from his past lowered to distant murmurs.

Another shock rippled through Ford, raising goosebumps on his skin. There was something behind him, something big.

He whirled around, reaching for the gun in his holster. His hand only grabbed empty air as he found himself staring into gigantic, formless black eyes.

In front of him was an enormous pink salamander with frilly, red gills. The creature's gaze was curious, amused even.

You found me! a voice sounded in Ford's head. It was childlike, but not exactly childish.

For a moment, Ford soundlessly worked his mouth, unable to say a word. An eternity seemed to pass before he managed to ask, "Who… who are you?"

You know who I am!

"I… I do?"

Oh? My bad! The creature moved a little, making the pink mist swirl around its body. I don't perceive time the way you do.

The creature's tongue stuck out in an approximation of a smile.

I am the Axolotl. Nice to meet you, Stanford Pines!

There was only silence. Silence and darkness and an icy cold that seeped down the marrow of his bones.

The man grunted. He wasn't asleep yet? Dammit. This was starting to get old fast. The more irritated he grew, the clearer his mind got. Still, the darkness did not recede. Instead, it got thicker, almost as he was flailing around in a black gunk. Again, he struggled to draw a breath.

Despite this, he managed to force out a shout. "Hey! Is anyone here? Help!"

He came to a sudden stop, and his stomach lurched painfully in response. The man wheezed, managing a curse. The pressure let up, and finally he could breathe. He never was so please to feel the air through his lungs.

A chill went down his spine as the man felt a presence behind him. He whirled around, readying his fists.

There was no one.

I found you! a voice sounded in the man's head.

The man blinked sluggishly. "What… who the hell…?"

You know who I am! the voice said, singsong.

"Yeah, right," the man said gruffly. "Whaddya want?"

Oh? But I thought you called for me! There was a hint of movement in front of the man. He squinted his eye; yes, there was someone there, but they seemed to blend in with the shadows, making it impossible to see any of their features.

"Ugh…" The man rubbed the bridge of his nose. Whoever the hell it was, they sure sounded too damn chipper for his tastes. "Lower the volume, will ya? My head's killing me for some reason. Again, who the hell are ya?"

The faint outline of a person was starting to show. Their body seemed to glitch, like it was filled with static from a TV screen. Two round, black eyes formed, and the approximation of a mouth gave a goopy smile.

I am here to guide you. Nice to see you again, Stanley Pines!