Gravity Falls and its characters were created by Alex Hirsch and owned by Disney. Belle Sterling is an original character owned by MaryPSue. All credit goes to their respective creators.
Down, down, down into the dreaded abyss. Orrie wasn't sure how long they were on the slide—too long in his books—but his feet eventually found solid floor, and he stumbled to keep his balance while blind. The sound of movement a little ways ahead signaled Belle was nearby. And the second Orrie wondered how they were going to navigate a ball of fire ignited in Dipper's palm. Now illuminated, the chamber didn't seem quite as terrifying.
The small circular chamber had five entrances, not including the slide they came down. Four of the doors were metallic just like the various doors they'd passed by when they were first in the basement. But straight ahead was a giant door of the deepest black Orrie had ever seen. Ancient runes and signs were etched into its obsidian surface; and while most were strange, the boy could recognize more than a few symbols pertaining to the Alcor mythos.
Dipper held a finger to his lips and wordlessly pointed toward the door. The other two nodded, with Belle gripping her bat even tighter. Her brother took the lead forward. He paused briefly to make certain they were safely behind him before thrusting the door open with a mighty push. Though it held firm with as much resistance as wet paper Orrie still noticed the sparks and smoke that sprung forth the moment Dipper touched the door; that door was not meant to be opened by demons. Seemingly unbothered, though, his friend stepped through.
Water sloshed out from all sides and drenched Dipper, and the teen actually fell to one knee, surprised and burned by the sudden assault of holy water. "Dipper!" Belle rushed forward, panic ringing in her voice. Robed men and women were already surrounding her twin and trying to tie him up with what appeared to be chains when she came at them. She landed a solid swing on one of the cultists, knocking a tooth out. Two saw her attack in time, however, and skirted out of the way as she swung. One grabbed her wrist while the other rammed his elbow into her stomach. She fell to her knees, utterly breathless, and the two cultists restrained her. Orrie fared no better at all as a single cultist was able to snatch him be the arms and wrangle them behind his back. They were forced inside—a chained Dipper being half-dragged in—and Orrie could only gape at what he saw.
This innermost chamber was gigantic, easily half as large as the entire first floor of the manor. The square room had numerous pedestals and candles sitting on poles. On top of the pedestals were large bowls filled with water and, to Orrie's confusion…lilies? No, lotuses– in fact the same ones he'd seen in the pool and greenhouse.
"Hurry, hurry!" he heard one of the cultists whisper tersely, and around the room he saw even more of them light the bowls of lotuses with matches. A soft, almost grassy fragrance wafted through the room as they started to chant. Belle gasped, and though initially confused, Orrie quickly spotted why. Etched painstakingly into the stone floor was an enormous summoning circle of intricate design, and within it were four smaller but equally complex circles: one was in the center while the other three were spaced evenly apart near the edges. And as the murmured words grew in volume a sort of heavy chill settled over him. He glanced over to Dipper, hoping he was alright. His friend so far seemed unaffected by whatever they doing.
"That went much better than hoped for." Orrie, Dipper, and Belle glared as the imposter stepped forward from the group. He no longer wore his make-up and costume, but he still held that same smugness as that night they'd first met him. Maybe more so now. "I was expecting more of a fight from you three. Especially from you." He directed those words toward Dipper. "But I won't complain. Pretty soon nearly a decade's wait will end with a glorious payoff." Those not chanting cheered loudly, excitedly. Orrie actually trembled in fear.
"As if we'd let that happen," Belle retorted even as she struggled against her captors. The imposter snorted.
"I'd love to see how you're going to stop me. You two are mere children who were stupid enough to come here, and your 'brother' there is bound with consecrated chains."
"Stupid!?" While her anger was understandable, Orrie admittedly thought that shouldn't have been the focus.
"Decade's wait? H-how long has this been going on? I thought we were the first victims."
The fake Alcor shook his head. "Sorry, kid, but you aren't the first. He was." And he pointed to a person lying in one of the smaller outer circles. The three turned their gazes, and Orrie spotted the form of an old man he'd overlooked earlier. He was unconscious, a bit bloodied and bruised, but the man was alive. "Mr. Goodman has been so kind in letting us stay on his property these last eight years. Gave us full access to his house and everything. But maybe he should have done a better job hiding the manor's secret. See, when I first came here, I had no idea how much power this dwelling contained. So when I did I dug a little deeper and found the original journal entries written by the first cultists. And I was intrigued."
He paused when groaning sounded through the air. Mr. Goodman was stirring, and when he looked around and saw the imposter he let out almost a breathless gasp. "What is…Terry? Terry, please, you must stop this!" But Terry didn't say anything. Instead, he walked over toward the centermost circle where there was a massive basin full of weird herbs. He took out a match and dropped it, and the plants instantly caught.
"Took me half a year to convince the other staff members to join me in this plan," he spoke almost conversationally as he watched the flames grow. "Five to update the spell and circle in accordance to Alcor's growth in power. Two to gather and grow all the necessary items. And another half to test it on some weaker demons. Now, finally, we're ready."
Dipper suddenly dropped, and Belle and Orrie turned as best they could to see what happened. "Bro!" With the force of an enraged grizzly Belle elbowed both her captors in the gut, grabbed her bat one of them had been holding, and slammed it hard into Dipper's captor's backside. He shrieked in pain as his hold on the chain loosened, enough for Dipper to slip an arm out and yank the rest away. With a shout he shot flames toward Orrie's captors. They fled in fright, unintentionally freeing the youngest boy in their attempt to dodge. Orrie gratefully returned the favor by charging into the legs of some men about to shower Dipper with more holy water from their buckets, knocking them over. And he in turn was shielded by Belle and her bat before he could be grabbed once more. She stood protectively between the cultists and her brother and friend, her sharp, darting gaze daring anyone to mess with them.
"Dipper, what happened?" whispered Orrie. Dipper was still kneeling, and that greatly worried him.
"I-I—" Dipper grunted and coughed, trying to speak again. "Hard…to…think," he finally got out. His eyes—which Orrie could now see weren't able to focus on one thing for very long—landed on the burning lotuses around the room. "Lotus…flowers?"
"Indeed," Terry chuckled, "The very same, in fact, mentioned in the ancient epics. Its ability to subdue mortal men after a mere taste is so powerful it's banned in all but three countries worldwide, even for medicinal use. It's nearly impossible to obtain one from the black market, let alone finding one in the wild. But we did our research, and all we needed was a single seed. After all, we had a magical greenhouse readily available for our purposes to make more." He looked down at the bowl of burning herbs he was standing by. "The fumes from burning Lotus flowers and Yggdrasil don't have much effect on humans, but on you…"
"Well, joke's on you. Demons don't need to breathe," Belle shouted out, pointing her bat threateningly at him. "And you're going to need a lot more Yggdrasil than that to make him loopy. Trust me."
But Terry seemed unbothered by her words. "Not at all. That's what the Lotus flowers are for—to enhance the potency of the Yggdrasil. I'm fully aware demons don't need to breathe nor eat nor sleep. But an unprepared demon might inhale a whiff of it, and that's all it takes for the smoke to take effect. It gradually wears down a demon's ability to function. And then, for a few precious seconds, puts them in a trance-like state– the closest to true sleep they will ever achieve; and they won't have a single care in the world. This window is small—as I said, only a few seconds—before the demon is able to shake off the effects. But it's long enough for our purposes."
The man stepped away from the bowl, staring down Belle and Orrie with a facsimile of a pleasant smile. "Now– eeny, meeny, miney…" He pointed at Orrie. "You."
"M-me?" the boy repeated dumbly while just as unintelligently pointing to himself.
"You're the last piece I need to complete the ritual– the one with a strong mind. We watched you solve the hints and clues and were we able to narrow down who we needed. Of those who actively sought them, you solved the most." And he snapped his fingers. Instantly the three of them were surrounded by a ring of maybe twenty identical copies of Terry. Orrie was caught so off guard he immediately lost track of the real one as they all marched in closer.
"I…llusions," Dipper told them through gritted teeth. "Can't…hurt you."
"Are you sure?" all the copies jeered. One of them ran forward and tried to grab Orrie, but Belle was faster and swung her bat. The illusion vanished like smoke. Then two more charged forward, and Belle aimed for the one on her right.
"No! Left!" But her brother's words came too late as Belle swung again. The fake one disappeared. Orrie felt a burning sting run across the exposed part of his arm and turned to see the second Terry, the real one, race back to hide in the crowd of copies, the metallic end of a small knife glinting as it was concealed in his robe. He gripped his other hand over the wound to mitigate the bleeding.
Dipper wobbled as he forced himself to stand, and Belle hurried to his side, angling just so that her shoulder could provide him support while she continued to keep watch around them. Orrie was internally amazed how easily and readily they had each other's back. "Thanks," Dipper whispered, panting.
"Just hang tight," she mumbled to him encouragingly. "We've got you covered." Orrie nodded, currently helpless but just as keen to assist them somehow. Wait– he could help! He still had the grappling hook in his backpack. He started to slide the bag off when footsteps alerted him to fast-approaching danger. Several cultists were coming at them from behind, swarming upon them just as their leader and all his illusions charged. Dipper could easily tell the real from the fakes, but from Orrie and Belle's perspective there was nothing but countless bodies all around them. There were shouts and cries as Orrie was pushed and grabbed at. Terrified, he reached out for his friends, desperate not to get separated from them.
A hand snatched his. "Got you!" Orrie yelled, startled by the cultist who'd grabbed him. Before another sound could be uttered the tall man hoisted Orrie straight up and carried him to the second of the smaller circles, the boy hitting him and struggling futilely the whole way. He dropped Orrie unceremoniously inside it. From his new location he could see his friends struggling to keep the cultists at bay, completely unaware that he'd already been taken.
The man who'd kidnapped him started chanting. "Guys!" Orrie stood and rushed out of the circle—only to smack right into an invisible wall. "Huh!?" He pounded his fists against solid air. It was a barrier of some sort, but…binding circles couldn't affect living beings. He looked down, seeing the complex runes and weaving lines starting to glow milky white.
"…their blood is yours to relish…" he heard the man near him mutter. He tried to escape again, but merely bounced off the barrier he could not see. He was truly trapped.
"Belle! Dipper! Help!"
Only now the twins turned, realizing Orrie no longer with them. While distracted, though, Belle was lifted and thrown through the air by no doubt magic. Dipper in turn lunged at Terry, his human disguise fully discarded, now a creature of void darkness and brickwork lines of gold. The leader used his magic to levitate himself out of reach at the last second, but the tips of sharp black nails were still able to tear cleanly across his ankle. Terry yelled in pain and nearly tumbled, grabbing his foot. "Hurry and finish! Finish it now!" he shouted.
The chanting grew even faster, ever louder. Dipper—Alcor—shrieked and fell again to his knees, covering his ears. Belle, still halfway across the chamber, screamed her brother's name as the words grew almost deafening to Orrie.
"From the one with a strong mind, their blood is yours to relish. From the one with a sound soul, their blood is yours to savor. From the ones with resilient bodies, their blood is yours to devour. With this offering, yield to our needs."
Terry began uttering the words to Alcor the Dreambender's summons, his voice overlapping and hauntingly overshadowing the words of his followers. The circle in the center started to glow. Alcor's form wavered and flickered, shifting from whole to misshapen, physical to ghostly. He howled louder, fighting his own summons. The walls threatened to rain down on them as debris and stones collapsed from above.
They chanted the words one final time, and this time Alcor was robbed from the realm of corporeality. For all of two seconds Orrie could only stare at the space his friend used to occupy. But the brief time elapsed, and Alcor soon reappeared in the centermost circle. His form was blurry now, like smoke barely able to hold together in a humanoid shape. Golden eyes, despite lacking pupils or irises, somehow looked utterly empty and were half-lidded.
"Aha hahaha ahaHAHAHA!" To Orrie, Terry's laughter drowned out the cheering cultists. "WE DID IT! We did what no one ever could: capture Alcor the Dreambender!"
"Dipper…" Belle whimpered. Then, shouting, "DIPPER! WAKE UP! WAKE UP, DIPPER!"
"Save your breath," Terry said, manic grin plastered on his face. "He can't hear you anymore. He is asleep thanks to the Lotus flowers, essentially has no consciousness due to the Yggdrasil, and he is bound by our spell. In short, he is a puppet. Our slave." He laughed again; he sounded demented. "If only those cultists hadn't died that night; they'd be rulers of this world right now! Shame such brilliant minds ended up being so foolish. Now—" He turned toward his fellow cultists. "Bring an offering."
Four people hustled to the far end of the room, completely hidden from view. When they approached Orrie inhaled sharply. The four were carrying Siegfried's mangled body, heavy dead weight being dragged to the final smaller circle along the edge. Once it was inside Terry looked directly at Alcor. "Enhance my magical abilities. I want to be the most powerful human on Earth." There was no handshake, no verbal exchange of words, but the body that had been placed in the circle instantly ignited in a sea of blue fire—Alcor's fire.
"But how?" Though Belle was on her feet again, what she was seeing petrified her in place. "Dipper can't accept that. A deal like that requires a lot more than one dead sacrifice. Even a living sacrifice shouldn't be enough."
"That's true," nodded Terry, "But this circle we're in is absolutely ingenious: as long as the demon inside it has no objections, and the living sacrifices continue to offer their blood, any deal can be made with just the offering of one body."
"But if either Orrie or Mr. Goodman just leave—"
"They can't. The runes that form the outer border of their circles repel blood, preventing them from escaping. And the runes that form the inner border attract it so it can be used in the ritual. Both were activated the moment fresh blood entered the circle."
"No." At his words Orrie had looked down at his arm. The blood was not clotting, still pouring, dripping every so often onto the ground where it was then absorbed by the circle he was in. That's why he couldn't escape.
"Of course, this whole ritual will end the moment either of them dies from blood loss," Terry continued, sounding not at all bothered, "But we'll worry about that when the time comes." He snapped his fingers, and Belle was teleported near the center of the circle, not far from her twin and Terry. A wall of thorns erupted around them, too high for Belle to climb. Terry snapped again, and another corpse—Dug's this time; color-drained and bloated—floated to the offering circle. "You are the only obstacle left in our path. Get rid of you and nobody can stop us." The man hovered high into the air, staring down at the siblings with twisted glee. "And how ironic would it be, Mizar, to be killed by your beloved Alcor? Hah! I bet that's something not even the original cultists planned on doing." He glared at Alcor. "Destroy Mizar. And make sure it's so devastating her soul won't be able to reincarnate for at least a hundred years."
But Alcor did not move. And the body remained where it was. "Was I not clear?" Terry's tone dropped. "Kill her." But Alcor stayed perfectly still.
Murmur sprang up amongst the cultists. Belle, who'd not done anything to escape Alcor, continued to glare defiantly at Terry. "And you called us stupid," she mocked. When she spoke it was slowly, as if talking to a little child. "Dipdop's my bro. I've got his back, and he's got mine. And nothing's gonna' change that."
That's right! Orrie thought with a grin. Alcor and Mizar were connected– he'd never hurt her willingly; that was something well-established by numerous accounts. Whatever bond they shared was so deep not even being bound stopped them from wanting to protect each other.
"Hmph. I see. So be it. But even though your relationship may be close, enough to not want real harm upon the other, siblings do enjoy a little teasing from time to time. What do you say, Alcor? How about having a little fun with her instead? Just a scare." This time Dug's body burned. Alcor's expression didn't change at all, as if he really were asleep and his body nothing more than a doll, as he raised clawed hands holding a giant ball of his fire, huge enough to engulf a full-grown adult. Belle's eyes instantly lit.
"You know, that's a pretty good idea. Except for one small problem…" Alcor threw the ball, and his sister's hand clenched tightly. "I'm too angry right now to be scared." She twisted on her toes, bringing her bat up and slugging the fireball so hard it rebounded, zooming now for Terry. The man recoiled in shock, shielding himself from the oncoming fiery orb, losing concentration. The flames passed over him, hurting him as much as a gust would, and he gasped. But the damage was done, and having lost his focus the thorny wall surrounding Belle withered and collapsed.
Several of the cultists grew furious that Belle was still standing. A couple ran forward, shouting how they'd use her body next as Alcor's offering, but Terry blew them back with his magic. "No! I want to get rid of her myself now!" And with another snap of his fingers even more clones of him appeared. But this time there was something different– these copies had shadows. These were real.
They ganged up on Belle. The teen tried to fight back, but the close space gave little room for movement, and after a firm blow to the back she dropped her weapon. Once again Belle was caught; this time there was a Terry to hold each of her arms and legs as they moved her to face the original. The real Terry sneered as black magic crept over his body like an aura, giving form to too crooked wings on his lower back and jagged nails on his hands. "This time there shall be no interference." With fingers pointed squarely at her chest he pulled back his arm.
Orrie hardly thought. All he knew was that he was moving when Terry was, reaching around and behind him in a near muscle-memory reaction. He didn't even take aim with the grappling gun, simply pointed it forward and shot. The hook missed Terry considerably, not only from it straying too far to the side but also because the cord wasn't long enough. But it was long enough to strike against the ground with an earsplitting scrape, distracting Terry, and leaving behind a small indent in the stone. Immediately Orrie realized what he had to do.
But first he needed to save Belle. And Terry was no longer going to be distracted. With a click the rope automatically coiled back up, and Orrie took aim at the men and women near the offering circle, a painful ache growing in his chest. He steadied his breathing and fired. The people jumped away, one even stumbling inside the circle to avoid his foot getting skewered by the hook. Orrie nearly hesitated in what he was about to do as absolute guilt gripped his very heart. But the hesitation did not win out.
"Save Belle!"
For a brief millisecond, a tiny part of him hoped this would fail and just a little less blood would be spilled. But the larger part, the part that wanted to see his friends survive, wanted him to survive, was more than willing to carry out the horrific deed. The man inside the circle had no hope of reacting in time. His body and clothes ignited with starving flames, and he was devoured alive by Alcor's fire in seconds. Only an agonizing wail managed to escape before he was swallowed up entirely and nothing more remained of him. At the same time, Terry and his clones were flung back from Belle, the copies holding her exploding into sparks and the real one hunched over and clutching his now black and limp hand in pain.
All the other cultists needed several long seconds to comprehend what just happened and why. Several eyes kept darting between Orrie, Terry, the pile of remaining corpses, and each other. "Why are you all just standing—!?" Terry started to shout, but he was cut off by the mad rush to the back of the room. Dozens of cultists were trying to steal bodies, stop others from taking them, or push even more toward the offering circle. It was clear anyone could have a taste of Alcor's power so long as there was something to sacrifice.
Orrie used this time to recoil the cable and take aim again, his target this time much closer.
"Idiots!" Terry snapped a finger on his uninjured hand to levitate one of his own bickering cultists into the circle. "Stop helping Mizar, Alcor; you have no part in this." The young man in the circle screamed as the fires consumed again, and Belle let out a startled gasp as whatever was protecting her vanished.
During all this Orrie fired and rewound, fired and rewound. The piercing scrape every time it struck the ground made him want to stop, but he kept at it. Almost there…
A cultist managed to shove someone into the circle and was preparing to make her demand. "Alcor, make me—" But Orrie fired one more time, striking the stone and finally disfiguring a symbol each in the outer and inner rings of runes around him. It was enough for him to leap out of his circle. "—as powerful as Terry!" But no deal could be made with the ritual incomplete. Orrie grinned weakly at his work.
Belle was grinning too. "Way to go, Orrie!" Upon hearing that, Terry, in disbelief, spun around, glaring at the boy. He scowled when he pieced together what happened.
"It doesn't matter. There's still enough power to keep Alcor asleep thanks to the supplement circle in—" He froze, his eyes slowing widening as he remembered. "NO!" Orrie and Belle were suddenly blasted by a powerful, invisible force. Belle was knocked straight to the ground, but Orrie was blown high into the air. Gravity took hold of his body not long after, and he fell. Out of reflex he held out his arms to stop his fall.
"AAAH!" The impact broke his left arm. He collapsed fully, curling in and hugging the broken limb close. Through tear-filling eyes he saw the bleary image of Belle rushing over to him. Several cultists tried to stop her, but they weren't getting anywhere near her and her bat.
Terry flew between the two. "This ends here!" he shouted, and he rushed at Belle.
Belle dove and tumbled under him, barely dodging his deadly aura. She made it to Orrie and pulled down her sleeve. Sewn on its inside was a strange yet somewhat recognizable symbol. Grabbing the tip of the dented grappling hook Belle pricked her thumb and smeared the blood onto the symbol.
"Snap out of it, Dipper!"
There was a roar, angry and inhuman, and all at once panic ensued. Orrie curled in tighter, unaware of Belle over him, as cultists ran, screaming, seeking the only exit. None could make it in time, struck down by fire or claws or whatever force Alcor decided to unleash upon them. Orrie peeked an eye open, watching as, pretty soon, the only one left was Terry, his copies no longer with him.
"Wel̨l,͝ ͘w̡ell,̧ w̧e҉ll͘–̡ no̕wh̷e̕re to͡ ́r҉un to?" The demon hovered closer to the man, who in turn retreated as far as possible to the wall, completely blocked. Terry's eyes grew wider with panic by the second, his hands and fingers shaking so badly he could hardly snap. "N͠o̢wh͠e͞r̸e̸ ̨to ̧t̸e͠l͟ép̵o̶rt́ t͟o͟?̛" Alcor was maybe five feet in front of him. "S̛u͜ch̛ ̢a ̸w͡a͞s̵te͝ o̵f un͢l͘im͘i̡ted pow҉er.͝"
"I-I-I don't understand!" shouted Terry, him pressed flat against the wall as if in desperation to phase through it. "Wh-why can't I leave!? How are you—!?"
Alcor smiled, and Orrie froze. That 'smile' was nothing but merciless and cold, hungry and sadistic without an ounce of empathy. "You ̨m̡ay͝ ̀b̶e̶ th͡e m̸ost po̸weŕf̛u̡l͜ ͝hum͘an͞ o̡n Ear̷t̨h̶.̨ B̡u͞t̢ you̧ ͠a̢re ̀no͝҉t̕h̀͟͡i̵̕n̸̛g̴ ͢co̵mp͞ár͡ed to̴ t̴h͡e mo͟s̴t po͜wer̛f͘ul de̕m̴o̶n.̵" Wisps of smoke tried to coalesce between the two, but just a flick of Alcor's hand made them instantly disperse. "S̕ee, ͜I ̡re̷membe͟r ev̨e͞ry̸th̷i͏n͘g̛. ̵Your͡ l̴i͝ttl̡e ҉sp̛e̡ll ̵only ͝n̷úmbed ̸m҉e m͟e̷nta͞l̕ly̡ ̴and͡ phys͢ica͝l̕ly̕.̴ B̛u͜t ̧I̴ w̢as ̕ve̶ry mu̢ćh̷ aẃa̢re͘." He slammed clawed hands into his shoulders, pinning Terry to the wall. "Yo͡u̷ ͏w̛e͠r̸e wr͜on͘g͝ to t̀h͘ink̸ y͡o͠u co̸u͘l̡d͜ ̸us̶e̛ me ̢tò ͡kil̀l ͟my Mi̢z̷ar.̴ An̨d ͢thèn ̧tŗy ̕to ̸k͝i͡ll͘ h҉er ̡y͜oưrse̷l͏f.͠" Dagger-like nails dug into Terry's skin, and the man yelled. "Bu̡t ýo̵u w҉e҉re͢ r̡ight a͞b̧out one t̷hi͘ǹg: ͟I ́d̨o͘ņ'̴t̴ ́ha̶v͞e̢ ̨àny̧ ̵i̧ssue̷s̷ ̶g͡et̛ting̨ ͟ŗid of͘ ̧up̨p̢it̸y b̕r̛a͠t̛s li̸k̀e͜ ̶yo̶u͜r͠s̡e̕l̡f͠." And he pressed hard, pumping insurmountable amounts of magic into the human. The man went limp in an instant, his body burning away entirely on the inside, impossible for a mere mortal to contain even a sliver of such power.
"Alright, Broseph, you can stop," Belle called out. Her eyes focused solely on him and not the lifeless being in his hands. Beneath her Orrie tried to sit up. He whimpered as he shifted his arm, and Belle was quick to help him.
Alcor released his hold, and the body fell with a muffled thud, landing sprawled like the rest around it. "S̵t͢op?͝ ̵I̵'̀v͞e ̨h҉a̴r͜dl̀y ev͠e͞n̡ be̡gųn̴.̧ Àn͜yo̧ne͞ w͠ho̢ t̴riés̀ t̛o hu̴ŕt̡ y̛o͡u̡ ̕lik̡ȩ t͟h͡at́ ͜d̀oe͘s̨n̷'͠t̸ ͠de͟s̕e̡r̨ve̕ t̴o—" But when he stared at his twin sister he halted. She stared back at him with such pain and tiredness and yet forcefulness he sobered immediately, most of his desire for revenge dampening.
"They're all dead," whispered Belle, "Besides, you're scaring Orrie." Dipper's eyes snapped toward the youngest one, who flinched under his gaze. The demon quickly looked away.
"I…yeah. You're right. Sorry." His sights soon located the only other living person in the room. "Er, Mr. Goodman, was it? Let me get you out of there." The next few minutes was spent getting Orrie to his feet, disabling Mr. Goodman's confinement, and making sure the elder man had no grievous injuries.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Mr. Goodman tried to assure them, but his ashen face had yet to regain its color. "I'm just…blown away by all that has happened recently. To think Alcor himself would stumble upon this manor. I assure you I had no idea any of this was going to happen."
"I know," answered Dipper, trying to sound reassuring. It certainly helped that he now looked like a teenager again. "And I'm not angry at you for that. But if you don't mind, since you're able, can you find and gather all the evidence relating to this ritual, including the journal entries and notes written by the original cultists?" Mr. Goodman stared at him for a long moment before sighing deeply.
"Yes, I understand. I suppose you want to destroy all of it. No need for another incident like this one." Dipper didn't say anything as he conjured forth a cane and handed it to the man. He hobbled slowly toward the door. "Oh, that's right," he stopped halfway there, "Terry was using the manor's security system to block all phone signals and to activate the traps. The controls to it aren't that far, just out this room and through the door on the right. If you need me to I can turn them all off and call for an ambulance."
"Please," mumbled Belle, and Mr. Goodman continued his way out. The twins glanced briefly at each other before turning to Orrie. The boy couldn't, for the life of him, gather the willpower to look at either of them in the face. But, he thought to himself, as all the tragedies that had transpired flashed before his eyes, as all the guilt and remorse settled over his heart like a thick blanket, he was still grateful. Grateful to be alive, and grateful to still have the Sterlings with him.
"…Guys," he muttered dully, low enough Belle had to bend forward to hear him, "I think I'm going to have that break down soon." Despite how serious she knew he was being Belle chuckled weakly.
"You know, I think I am too." Already tears were forming in her eyes as she fought to keep up her smile.
"…Okay then." But he didn't. Pain and waning adrenaline overcame the body faster than the mind could process, and Orrie was sent falling into sudden but not wholly unwelcomed unconsciousness instead.