The Return to Gravity Falls

by EZB

Mabel and Dipper return to Gravity Falls three years after their life-altering summer vacation spent with their Grunkle Stan, to find that Gravity Falls never stops being, well, weird. As the twins encounter old friends and reconnect with the supernatural inhabitants of Gravity Falls, new dangers lurk just outside of the knowledge of Uncle Stanfords old journals.

85. Spectral Revelations: Part 2

When a stranger you know nothing of or about comes knocking at the very front door, many thoughts ought to come through the mind. 'Who are they', or 'what do they want with me' are easily understandable and relatable for instantaneous reactions. Looking to someone like this and asking to oneself 'are they single' is not a common thought.

"Who's that, father?" Mabel's body asked as Constance acted through her.

From far above, Wendy Corduroy, still chained to the chandelier, gasped. "Zander!"

"I don't know," Master Edward Gracey squinted, examining the clad figure from the distance. "Interesting wear for such a thrilling night," he admitted, eyeing the black cloak.

"I think it's very flashy," Constance hummed and stared at the face. Blond hair, green eyes, and a pleasing smile and glimmer in his eyes that seemed to reflect and absorb all the light of the room simultaneously. Constance, through Mabel, scratched her chin absentmindedly. "He seems..." she pondered, "Mysterious."

Edward Gracey snorted, and stepped forward, adjusting his tie. The man who had removed the cloak was looking around himself when the master of the estate approached him. "Sir, might my servants be of aid to you?" Gracey asked.

The man, placing away his mask and pulling out from his sleeve a long, black, but shimmering and beautifully cosmic looking scarf, smiled. He placed the scarf around his neck, and lowered the hem of his cloak, allowing his collar bones to breathe a little, displaying a timeless, intricate, formal black shirt underneath. Gracey's eyebrows raised gently as he observed the man, spotting the formal attire.

"No, but I think I've found my man," the newcomer smiled, extending a hand, "It's an honor to finally meet you, Edward Gracey."

Gracey let a constrained chuckle, and took the hand in a grasp. "I'm very honor to please you, my dear guest. Forgive my ignorance, but I do not know of you. How do you know of me?" Gracey smiled.

"Word spreads through the north with trade among the coast," the man said, coming to a comfortable fit with his scarf, and adjusting his hair with a quick brush from his gloved hand.

"You're a businessman?" Gracey asked.

The man shrugged. "In many regards. Others would call me a lover of commerce," the man laughed, catching Gracey off guard as he did as well.

"My word! So forward!" Gracey shook his head. "If you would please introduce yourself? I would be so grateful to know the charm of my company."

"As would I," Constance stepped forward, her modern clothing and Mabel's appearance reflecting in the eyes of the man.

His eyes drank her, but his surface emotion never changed. "If it would please you two," he nodded, "my name is Maxwell Orvas, of the-"

"Baltimore Atlantic Posterity Shippers?" Edward gasped, and darted out his hand and snatched the man for a rigorous handshake. The man, identified as Maxwell, beamed and shook his head. Yet Gracey said, "I am a such a fool! The honor is all mine! To have someone so generous in your trade regulations and offerings to-"

'Maxwell Orvas' chuckled and shook his head. "Please, no, Master Gracey. This is a time of celebration, not for business," he said with a wink.

"I agree," Constance said with Mabel's voice, siding up to her father. She extended her hand outward in a semi-limp, inviting way. "Constance Hachetaway, my lord."

"Hey!" Wendy shouted from above, having never ceased watching the events from above, "That's Mabel's thing! Don't you copy-her! She likes flirting with him! Not you!"

Zander Maximillion bowed and extended his own hand. "Maxwell Orvas," he said, cupping her hand in the gentlest of embraces. "And I am no lord among such company," he said with the smallest of winks. Constance let out a gasp and tremble as he stood up.

"You are... fascinating," she said, taking a step closer.

"Thank you," Zander let the tiniest of bows come from him, "It has been a blessing, and curse, to be known as such."

"Zander!" Wendy shouted. "Zander! That's not mabel!"

The three looked up to Wendy, the father and daughter whipping around to stare at her. Zander scratched his forehead and chuckled. "What's happened to that poor dear?" he questioned.

"A girl with little regard for the formalities of a gentlemen's party," Edward snarled.

"Please, ignore her," Constance turned back, and stepped forward, slowly laying a hand onto his chest. "Perhaps you would do me the honor of a dance?"

"A dance?" Zander smiled, turning back to Mabel. "I would be delighted, madam."

Constance blushed, and lead the gentlemen to the center of the room, where the ghosts parted, and began assigning themselves dancing partners. Wendy called and struggled from above, her anger and frustration building as Zander left her line of sight.

"Musicians," Edward called, "Let your music soar!"

The tune began. It was a waltz; somber, almost morbid and warped, but entirely upbeat. The ghosts all bowed, along with Constance and Zander, and they began their spinning. Around and around, they twirled, making circles within circle. Mabel's body and Zander were quick to keep up with the pace of the ghosts, but occasionally they would brush with another specter, and Constance would apologize.

"Are you well, Miss Hachetaway?" Zander asked, pausing at a point along the edge of a circle where he pulled her away.

"Yes, just," Constance sighed, "Wearing this new outfit is quite the struggle.

"New?" Zander asked, his eyes sharpening.

"It's hard to remember the differences in height and size of feet. Balance and the speed I can move at. I must be so clumsy to someone as important as you!" she giggled.

Zander shook his head. "No, no. You're quite fine, my lady," he smiled gently. The face on the girl blushed so bright red it may have appeared as crimson paint. Zander leaned in closer, and her eyes became hazy. "Madam, I know this might be rather blunt of me, but would I have the privilege to ask to speak to your other?"

"Pardon?" she snapped, leaning back. Zander's eyes continued to twinkle, and so she softened her sharp glare. "Whatever for? Aren't I enough woman for you?" she asked with a wink.

Zander smiled. His eyes twinkled as he restated, "I would be in your debt to speak with her."

The ghostly presence frowned. Yet, the simple request of the man before her seemed... reasonable. She nodded slowly, and sighed. "I can permit you a minute. Otherwise, she may try resisting me."

Zander nodded. "Naturally." The blue in Mabel's brown eyes faded, and the girl became limp, stumbling forward into Zander. The man in black snatched out and gently took the shoulders and arms of Mabel, holding her steady. "Mabel?" he asked, leaning down and peering into the twin's eyes.

She looked up to him. Unfocused, sleepy, and with hints of dread, Mabel's gaze was peppered with doubt. Yet his appearance shaped her outlook; she began to smile.

"Zander," she said quietly. Then she looked around, to the distant dance floor. "Are we in mid-dance? What's going-" she gasped, and stood up fully, "Constance!"

"She's still within your mind, I think," Zander said, never leaving his own gaze away from Mabel. "Can she hear us?" he asked, his smile fading.

"I, uh, don't think so?" Mabel shrugged. "I think she ran off to browse the section of my brain I keep all the memories of handsome men."

Zander smirked. "Of course," he then leaned into her, "Mabel, what is happening here? I was summoned by Dipper."

"He used magic?" Mabel gasped. "But that's bad!"

"A minor form of magic, one I've encountered before," Zander rolled his eyes. "Of the choice list he could have used, its forgivable."

"Oh," Mabel grinned, "Good. As long as you're okay with it."

His expression dulled. "Mabel, what is going on?" he re-stated.

Her own gaze softened, and she looked around. "This... this house is haunted."

With an almost unreadable expression, Zander slowly nodded and said, "That it is."

"No, but not just by ghosts, but by love," Mabel groaned, holding her head, "Constance doesn't like that I can read some things about her like she can with me. Stupid!" she grumbled.

"Focus, Mabel," Zander said calmly.

"She doesn't like it," Mabel grumbled, "Like peanut butter with pineapple! Gross," she mumbled, and swatted at a section of air next to Zander. "I can't... my brain feels all loose and wiggly," Mabel told him, her eyes struggling to stay on him.

"It's okay, you don't have to talk now," Zander said, resting a hand next to her cheek and lifting her jaw to a close. The moment he touched, Mabel's eyes closed and her cheeks went a soft pink. He still lifted her face to him, and he spoke. "Where is Dipper? Nod if he is around."

She shook her head.

"Dang," Zander but his lip, looking around, "Nod for yes, and shake for no. Is he in the house?" he tried. Mabel nodded. "Is he... freely in the house?" he asked again. She shook her head. "Imprisoned?" he whispered. She shook her head. "Point to where," he asked.

He watched her raise her hand, and point to the middle of the floor. "Below," she managed to say, "Bottom. Hehehe, like a butt," she managed, before falling backwards. Zander stepped forward, sweeping in with his hand and catching her without the slightest ease.

"Mabel?" he asked.

The eyes slowly fluttered open, and the brown was slowly rescinding to blue. "Zander," Mabel's voice pleaded. Zander stifled a gasp. She was crying in his arms. "She's so sad. Constance wants to feel true love so badly. Sooo baaddly. Ugh. My head," she added, holding her palms to her temples.

"What happened to your brother," he tried again, this time sharper.

Mabel's body jolted. The blue returned, and her control over her body was restored. "Oh!" Constance's voice gasped.

A trained expert in the shifting of vocal tones, Zander asked, as his pleasantries returned, "Are you well?"

"Yes. I forgot how taxing it is to reside in the sub-conscious," she said with a chuckle as she was lifted upright by Zander. She peered up at him, the shimmering beacon of bright blue overlaying the natural splashes of brown eyes. "Hopefully your chat with the young lady was not unseemly, causing you any worth of trouble."

"Not at all, lady Hachetaway," Zander smiled.

"Call me Constance," she asked, stepping closer.

"Well, Constance," Zander beamed a wide, toothy-smile, "I think I must retire to my carriage for a quick spell."

"Oh! What on earth for?" she asked as he turned and walked away.

"I am clearly not dressed for such a wonderful evening. I was mistold that costumes would be, uh, the stated attire," he snickered, holding out his own cape like some strange bat.

Edward Gracey stepped around him, eying the display. "It is rather dramatic," the ghost admitted.

"Nonesense!" Constance swatter her father's shoulder, which flew straight through the ghost, yet she looked to Zander, "I think it fits you well."

Zander smiled and nodded. "You may be right, Constance," he said with another small nod. "But such long cloaks cause mis-steps and trips. And while dancing, we wouldn't need any of that, would we?" he proposed.

The two watched him, Gracey studying him more closely while Constance gazed into his eyes. "We expect to be graced by your person again, my lord," Edward nodded.

"Of course!" Zander laughed, "After all, if there is something we both have plenty of, it is time," he said, and turned.

"Zander!"

The man in black paused, but did not turn around. Wendy shouted again. "Zander!"

"She makes such a ruckus," Gracey barked. "Put bindings around her incessant mouth!"

"Zander, the floor ate them!" Wendy shouted, "They fell down a huge crack in the ground that Constance made with magic or something," Wendy said as the three ghosts that had dragged her in approached her, carrying with them a few material pieces of cloth. "Hey, get away!" Wendy snapped at them, and when they did not, she looked again down to Zander, "hey! Zander!" she roared.

The man she spoke to finally looked, eyeing her briefly.

"I wish to speak with her," Zander stated.

"Her!?" Gracey snapped. Zander turned to the ghost, and the master of the estate wilted. Though the man he knew as Maxwell Orvas made no negative expression, such a cold stare could only bring danger if challenged. Gracey nodded and snapped his fingers.

Wendy, struggling to remove herself from the binds yelped as the supporting chains above her extended, growing long and longer as the chandelier approached the floor with controlled vigilance. Finally, she lurched to a stop, her red hair falling past her face. Zander strolled past Edward Gracey and Mabel, and found himself towering over Wendy, who looked up, her green eyes peering past her red.

"Zander, get me outta here, man," she pleaded quietly. The eyes she got from him were... deadly cold. Though fear did not become her, her throat instinctively tightened, and she gulped. "Uh, hey there, Zander?" she asked.

His hand snapped out like lightning, and Wendy found his vice grip around her jaw. She gasped and cringed, feeling her muscles ache at his very touch. He pulled himself closer, that terrible gaze in his eyes.

Her breath escaping her, Wendy trembled and managed to ask, "Are you possessed? Zander?"

Then he moved his head past her face and whispered in her ear.

"Wendy, stay calm and quiet," he said firmly. "They can't possess other undead like you. There only thing that you could fear is what they would do to you should you antagonize them."

She tried looking towards him, yet cringed when she still found his grip on her similar to steel.

"I'm going to find them," he said quietly, "And we're going to get this all figured out. I may have a solution to rescuing Mabel," he said, and leaned back just far enough to peer back into her eyes, "But I need you in once piece. Got it? I need some playing pieces on the field that can't be affected by possession as well," he said, and stepped back in front of her, and then snarled, his green eyes flashing with the most imposing presence Wendy had ever felt. He loudly snapped at her, "Got it?!"

Wendy was stunned. He was playing the ghosts, right in front of them somehow. Wendy had seen them peering into the minds of her friends, and yet... they were watching him with a look of approval. They thought he was being genuine with his talk to her, 'being threatening'. If that were the case, Zander certainly was good at fooling Wendy then. Yet she trembled.

Despite her commands, she audibly wondered, "Zander, how... how are you tricking them?"

His hand then shot again, moving from her jaw to at the top of her neck. She gasped and leaned back. Though she felt the iron grip of his hand, he did not... squeeze.

"Answer me, girl," he threatened.

"Uh..." Wendy gulped, "Yes?"

Zander then let his hand go, a cruel smile crossing his face. "Very good," he said, and turned away, his cloak billowing behind him.

"My lord?" Constance asked, "What were you two talking about?"

"A matter of politeness among those of class," he said, "And the reasons why," Zander turned back, and looked to Wendy directly, "We act the way we do."

Wendy's eyes widened as she was tugged back up, the chains above her shortening back to their natural length. Zander left her alone, surrounded by the ghosts of the ball room, back to their endless spinning and twirling.

"Well, men," Edward Gracey turned back to the three strange looking figures lurking above Wendy, "String her up."

"We can't possess her, sire," the shortest and hairiest of the three squawked.

"Then literally string her up, as a puppet!" Gracey barked. The three stumbled in the air, and began to wrap strings around Wendy, who stared at the still open doors to which Zander had exited.

Constance did as well. She stepped forward, patting her lips with a thoughtful stare. "I think it's time I put on my dress," she smiled.

"Dear?" Gracey asked over his shoulder.

"I think I've found my future husband," she smirked, her glowing blue orbs radiating like trails of smoke from the corners of her eyes.

---

CRASH.

SLAM.

BANG.

Three bodies slammed into the ground, deep within the basement of the Gracey Mansion. Splintering and crumbling of old boxes gave way to a collective of moans and groans from those who had just completed their fall. Darkness surrounded them; Dipper, Soos, and Stanford Pines. It smelled of rotting fabric and wet wood, and their groans and pained gasps echoed around them.

"I can only assume that one of you has a torch or flashlight of some kind," Stanford Pines' voice called out in a pesky grumble.

"Hold on," Dipper mumbled, reaching inside his pocket. With a flick of his thumb, he opened the flapping screen of the phone, and engulfed their presence with light from his phone's background. "There, happy?!" he snapped, realizing he was still holding onto the broken chain that he had pulled from Mabel's neck.

Ford smarmed, "I've felt better, that's a fact."

"I've felt worse, too!" Soos' muffled voice added. The handyman had landed head first through the largest box, his head inches from the tough stone. That very stone Dipper just jumped onto, hissing as he felt his back. Soos piped up again, "Also, I could use some help, I think my everything is pinned in this box. Oh! Who's touching my ear? Are one of you two getting me out?"

"No," Ford said.

"I'm coming now, Soos," Dipper asked.

"Ack! Ghost!" Soos yelped inside the crate. "Oh, wait, never mind. Just a very large rat. Like I haven't seen your kind before, you silly little thing. Hey!" he snapped, "Off the cap, dawg!"

With Fords somewhat reluctant help, Dipper was able to pull out Soos, and toss off a rat from his hat, which darted away.

They were inside a large, pitch-black room of stone floor and a single stone wall to their side. Wooden, rotting crates with mildew and mold lay around them, some covered with fabric of older times, worn and faded in color.

Ford sat on one, and held his head in his palm. "The girl. You're kidding me. We let the girl come with us, and she was the one we had to worry about the most!" he snapped.

"Hey!" Dipper turned on a dime, pointing at him, "That 'girl' is my twin sister!"

"Clearly you are your sister are not as close as you'd like to defend, Dipper," Ford retorted.

"She– I– look– we–" Dipper clawed at his own face, "We were dealing with Constance there!"

"Who?" Ford rolled his eyes, "Or did you forgo to mention that your sister actually suffers from multiple-personality and each one has a unique set of powers?"

"No!" Dipper yelled.

Eager to be of service, Soos explained, "Constance is the spooky ghost daughter of the spooky ghost dad who runs this place," while picking pieces and chips of wood out of his clothing.

Ford snapped. "Your sister was possessed! And here I thought everyone you knew was weird and strange."

Dipper and Soos stared at him. "Just how exactly are we weird and strange?" Dipper asked with venomous undertone.

Ford cleared his throat. "Well, for one, Dipper. The name. Odd choice for parents to call a child. So, odd. Then you," he pointed to Soos, "You're adorably adolescent and with a single-syllable name."

"Depends on how long you say it," Soos reasoned, "Like, if you go Soooooooooooo-"

"Anyway," Ford turned back to Dipper, "See? Weird."

Dipper glared at him, resenting the admittance in his head. "Fine, whatever, we're a little weird. No more than you though," he added with bite.

"Exactly," Ford nodded, "Now, since it's clear that your sister is possessed, we need to figure out a new plan of action."

"Like what?!" Dipper yelled. "The ghost that's possessing her is, like, probably the strongest I've seen in a long time!"

"Indeed. This Constance is easily categorized as a-"

"Level ten," the two said simultaneously. They looked to one another, and then Dipper broke eye-line, his cheeks red.

As he stood up, Ford inquired, "How much of my content in my journal have you read?"

"Enough to know about really good things," Dipper said, stepping closer with gusto, "And all the bad."

Ford's face went slightly paler. He adjusted his glasses. "We... I can explain anything you'd really like to know in more detail. I've told you my side of this maddening story, but right now, unless you'd rather us sit here in this rotting dungeon and mope," Ford pointed out, "Which I'm fine with to an extent: I could find a new species. But we really should-"

"Get moving with a new plan, right," Dipper rolled his eyes. "Fine."

"Oh, thank god," Soos sighed, "And here I was worried I would have to referee your conversations."

The two rounded on Soos. "What?" They asked.

"Well," Soos explained, "You two are really good at bringing up counter-points. I felt like I could be a part of it if I kept track of score and kept you two within the rules."

"What rules?" Ford asked.

"Eh, I dunno. Stuff like, 'not shots below the belt' sort of thing," Soos said.

"Well, kid," Ford turned, and corrected himself, "Dipper. You want to make a plan, I suggest you start somewhere."

Dipper turned, and looked around. Using the light of his phone, he spied for an end to their room. He did eventually find one: rows of vertical iron bars, all rusted and crusted with dust and wet ichors. Dipper found, approaching them, a crooked, broken door that had long since become impossible to close.

"Looks like Constance hasn't been down here in a long time if she dropped us down here," Dipper reasoned, moving the door with very squeaky hinge sounds. "Otherwise, she probably wouldn't have sent us to a prison where the doors don't work."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ford chuckled, "A ghost has domain over all the area they died in. They don't just 'forget' things like that," he said.

"Hey, that's kind of weird actually," Soos pointed out. The two again looked back to him. After a moment of playing with his fingers worriedly as they watched him, he added, "Well, because, all the ghost servants were fixing up the house, but this whole area is kind of gross still."

"You're right," Dipper gasped.

"Quite the observation," Ford added.

Soos smiled and shrugged to himself. "Just trying to help," he said, leaning on the broken, rusted door. It then swung aside, falling off with a loud clatter, sending Soos sprawling to the floor. With his face down on the hard ground, he lifted a hand up and said, "All good!"

"Right," Ford mumbled, and turned back to Dipper, "Dealing with a level ten specter of this caliber is not going to be easy."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Dipper said.

"Well, since you asked," Ford cleared his throat.

"I wasn't being literal," Dipper interrupted, and Ford scowled, "I've already dealt with one before."

"Wait, you?" Ford asked.

"Yes."

"You've dealt with a level ten specter? Ghost?" Ford gasped. Dipper nodded. "Then we need to combine resources. They are much more difficult to remove than any other form of ethereal undead."

"From what our original plan was," Dipper explained, "There was a source that tied this whole island together. A curse. That changed when we found out about Edward Gracey."

"The ghost bashing the ward?" Ford asked, an eyebrow raised. He brought his two middle fingers and scratched his jaw. "I don't think so."

"Really?" Dipper and Soos asked.

"Compared to the amount of capability we've seen, he is less threatening than his supposed daughter, this Constance," he reasoned. "She was able to sneak into our numbers and asses us as not even worthy to dispose by means of magic. Instead, she used some form of combat training she learned in her life and battled us with it, until-"

"No, that was all Mabel's training," Dipper sighed.

"I – wait really?" Ford gasped. Dipper nodded. "Your sister knows how to fight that much?"

Dipper again nodded.

With an excited nod, Soos added, "Yeah, and I think she learned how to eat, or punch fire. I totally need to see that still."

"As do I," Ford said, reaching for his jacket, and wincing. "Seriously!?" he asked to the ceiling, and then to Dipper, "I'd really prefer having my journals back."

Ignoring the two, Dipper stepped out of the room, and into a hallway containing more of these rooms. There, Dipper stopped dead in his tracks. These rooms were not filled with boxes and crates, but with seven horribly decayed bodies.

"Guys?" Dipper called out.

Soos and Ford appeared a moment later, side by side with Dipper. Soos made an audible gasp and gagging sound, while Ford merely hummed.

"Seven bodies," he noted. "Each with a notable missing feature," he pointed out.

"Yeah, their heads," Dipper groaned. He looked back to them, aware of the clean-cut nature of the skeletons left behind: their severed neck. "This is the work of Gracey," Dipper quietly said, holding his phone out as a source of light.

With a mumble, Ford noted, "Odd that this whole thing should be started by true love."

"These are Constance's husbands," Dipper decided, "In Gracey's Journal–"

"You have more people's journals?" Ford gasped. "What are you, some sort of journal hog?"

Dipper glared at him for a short moment, and then continued with his verbalized thought. "In Gracey's Journal, he stated that he helped his daughter hide and stash away the bodies of her husband, and how he gained great wealth for their family ties. This has to be them!" Dipper gasped.

Coming up from the rear, Soos asked, holding a hand to his nose, "But why aren't they the ones stuck here, haunting the place?" he asked. "Shouldn't they be all 'raawrr, I'm a mad ghost, dawg' and stuff?" he asked.

At the end of the hall, in similar fashion to a response, the darkened doorway flashed with a sickly green light. All three stared at it, their eyes wide in shock. The light began to pulse steadily, in similar pace to a heartbeat.

"Well... how about nope, we're finding a secret passage that leads out," Dipper said, and tried turning around.

"An investigator never turns down a chance at learning something new," Ford noted, adjusted his glasses, and pressed forward. Soos huffed his cheeks out, rolled up his short sleeves, twisted his cap around, and stormed forward.

"Okay, fine," Dipper pouted, turned around, and walked forward with them.

Passing each of the seven bodies with a grimace, Dipper made pace with his two companions. Dust falling away from the pulses of light, the three found themselves stepping through a door less hallway, to a large circular room. A single small table with a draped cloth sat in the center, a ball made of glass or crystal sitting on a small pedestal. The image within the crystal ball seemed to be tangles of something dark and grey, flowing effortlessly around.

"Huh. Crystal ball," Dipper noted, "Very haunting."

"I wonder if a spirit is attempting to make contact with us," Ford noted, and approached. Dipper shot out a hand, holding him back. "What?" Ford demanded.

"Unless there's something already waiting for us, we probably shouldn't draw attention to us by trying to call for spirits to-"

Dipper cut himself off, and became speechless. The other two stared as well, watching the ball in the center of the table as it picked itself off the table, floating mid-air. The table too lifted itself, becoming off-center and lifted with the gentlest of breezes. The tangles and mesh inside the crystal slowly turned away, rotating away to the three's right as a face came into view. Green and pale, with dark eyes that seemed to delve into the abyss itself, a sharp, womanly face glared at the three.

"Oh. Hi," Soos said, curtly raising and lowering a hand.

The ghost in the crystal ball spoke, her voice trembling with power and dominance that echoed in the circular room.

"To this chamber, question come unbound, for Madam Leota, rightly you've found. The ties of gone, the ribbons of yet, the things seen here leave many in cold sweat. Speak not now, for your eyes I do read, darkness and danger grown from a seed. Of a curse long unrehearsed the story you'll traverse, for this seer will immerse listeners with bad or worse."

At the end of her haunting passage, Dipper and Ford stared at her, their mouths drooped out and open.

Soos nodded slowly. "Right. So, like, Madam Lion-eta," he said, "Can you, like, tell us how to get out of here?"

The face, with sharp, thick brows frowned at him. She then jerked her head in a small tilt.

"There's a door behind me that's locked. Break it down, and take your first left. Stairs at the end of the hallway," she grumbled.

"Aww, thanks," Soos said, and started that way. Ford and Dipper yelped and yanked him back. "What?" he asked.

Dipper stepped closer. "Madam... Leota, was it?" he asked. The face softened, and she looked to him, hovering just a foot above his own height. "You said you'd seen, in our eyes, a curse."

The eyes in the spectral face looked vacant. "Aye, a curse from seven a hearse that you wish to disperse," she said, her lyrical speaking returned, "for I know the pains and woes, the remains below, and that you'd overthrow."

"You'd help us with this curse?" Ford asked, stepping closer. The head nodded. Ford asked, "Why?"

"To grasp the why and the reasons how, you must hear the story that I shall sow. For this tale comes from a mansion's plight and the sadness that calumniated into one fateful night," she explained.

"So, like, I get that you're a master Shakespearian writer and stuff," Soos quickly stated, "but I'm not following. Can you, like, talk somewhat normal?"

"Eh, it would probably be fast if you just did," Ford shrugged.

With a sad mumble, Dipper quietly protested, "...I like the rhymes."

Looking at the three before her with a disappointed glare, the specter rolled her eyes. "Fine," she grumbled. "I'll speak with little grace I can. I've been here for a while, gentlemen, sorry if I've spent my time here practicing to speak like a real champ, and you can't handle me."

"Sorry," Soos waved at her, "Didn't meant to ruin your groove."

"Whatever," she mumbled, and blew some hair out of her face, "Not like I'll have anyone else to tell my clever lyrics to." She then looked back to Dipper and Ford.

She spoke again, this time, sans the rhyming. "Over one hundred and seventy years ago, Constance Gracey was born to this family. In her birth, her mother became Ill. For nearly ten years, Edward Gracey battled to have his wide and Constance's mother recover, but the disease took it's foothold."

"He was rich, wasn't he?" Ford gasped, "He'd surely had the wealth to-"

"The wealth of the family only came after Gracey's Wife died. Her death spurned him to work harder than ever before. He became a prominent, up and rising business man with the help of sympathetic and accomplished others. With his rise to fame, his daughter, Constance, grew more and more beautiful and lovely, and demanded to be married off. When Edward Gracey agreed, disaster struck soon after the marriage."

The three gasped and jumped as an axe fell nearby the floating table, imbedded into the ground.

"Wow," Soos whistled, "Good story telling."

"Thank you," she mumbled, "would be better if I could... anyway," she sighed, "the first husband was slain. His namesake and family name, forever followed Constance: Hachetaway. For his death and vanishing began the stain on the Gracey family," she explained.

"Not once," the ghost Leota said, and another hatchet fell," not twice," yet another hatchet fell, "but six more times did this occur. For reasons I do not know, these deaths meant little to both the father and his daughter. Finally, one night, a party was held in the guise of raising funding for the family, which began to lose many of its constituents, and in the false promise to reward Constance her true love and final husband."

"Jeesh, you'd think after the third, people would get the idea," Dipper said, pocketing his hands.

"These arranged marriages were for wealth and family connections. But yes, by the last of these promised marriages, people no longer wished to be betrothed to Constance. From my experience, Constance and her father got into a terrible, party-witnessed shouting match. She then, one hundred and fifty years ago, came here, to me," the ghostly orb announced.

"To you?" Ford asked, "why?"

"I was the family trusted seer. I imparted wisdom to them. After all, this dungeon was once much more than... well, the dungeon it is now. It had flowers and some nice curtains, and a little candle next to my orb here," the Ghost Leota looked down the table, "See? Right there? I can still see a little where the wax melted. I miss that little red candle."

"Keep on track, please," Dipper grumbled.

"Fine, fine. I imparted my wisdom to her. Saying that these rushed marriages, and expecting them to be anything other than what they were initially would bring the girl only sadness. She then asked me to scry. I remember... beginning my fortune telling. When I awoke later, I was no longer for this world. My head and body, severed, and an axe-" a final axe fell before them with a thick thud, on the table, "-Beside my decapitated body."

"She killed you?!" Dipper gasped.

"In her rage, she refused whatever answers I told her that night. For when I scry, I only see and speak, but cannot hear myself. Not until I am finished. For I warned her," Leota shook her head sadly, "Though I blame myself for what it brought, I warned her the danger of expecting true love from thin air."

"True love from thin air?" Ford asked.

Dipper looked away, putting his hands in his vests's pockets. "I, uh, see where you're coming from."

"The girl, ever since her mother's death, saw the sight of true love as her escape. She dreamed of finding her prince, who would sweep her off her feet. Her father, I believed, used her wishes to his company's aid, and brought her husbands. When a husband and her would not work well," Leota shuddered, "Then the buried anger from her mother's death would surface, and the man would... lose a very important limb."

"The head," Ford noted with a crinkled nose.

"Really!?" Soos gasped. "I thought it was, uh," he pulled his legs together tightly, "Something else."

"The night that came from my meeting with Constance felled the rest of the fates. Constance poisoned the entire party, all the hundreds of guests, and then herself when she found her father watching his friends die. After her own death, he hung himself from one of the chandeliers. That night left a stain on this land, removing it from the world," Leota explained, "Something now that is becoming unfurled. Oops-" she winced, "Rhymed again. Sorry, my bad."

The buzzing in Dipper's head, hearing all the information at once. He reached inside his jacket, and pulled out a pink shaded journal he had collected. On the spine read 'Miss Constance'. His teeth gritted together, Dipper managed, "This... this is all Constance's fault."

"Well, I mean, it's no one person's fault, Dipper," Soos chuckled, "I mean, if she was so dedicated to finding true love, and her father used that to marry people, he didn't really help? And even Leota here," he said, and the ghost gasped and glared at him, "Didn't help by, well, being blunt with her."

"Hey," Constance simmered, "I was just doing my job, okay?"

"While I understand your anger, Dipper," Ford piped up, "Soos here is correct."

"Really?" Dipper, Soos, and Leota all asked.

"Yes," Ford nodded, "This is not a time to place blame, but to work now with our new information! It is not everything, but we now have motive! The 'why'! With this, we can work against the reasoning why a level ten ghost is remaining in the material world, and fight it on a psychological front, instead of an arcane one!"

"I got none of that," Soos sighed with resignation.

Dipper explained, "Soos, he's saying that we may be able to convince the ghost by talking to it now that we have this information."

"Oh! That's good!" Soos nodded.

"Yes, it is," Ford nodded.

"Well, I'm soo glad I could help, but if you'll need a rhyming phrase, just give me a yelp," Leota rolled her eyes, and spun around, shrinking away with a swirl into a small black dot in the center of her crystal ball. The magical ball rested down onto the table, and the wind fell away as the table came gently to the ground.

Soos nudged Ford. "I think you made her upset."

From the door across the room, there was a heavy thud. The three looked across the room to the door.

"Something's coming," Dipper hissed, and looked to the others, "Quick! To the door! We'll catch it by surprise."

As quietly as they could, they passed around the now silent and darkening crystal ball. Dipper came to next to the door, as Ford approached the other side with Soos. On each of the walls, they listened. Footsteps were coming closer.

"Okay. Soos, I'll go first. Ford, uh," Dipper looked to Ford as he whispered, "You have anything you can put into a fight?"

"Ah, I have a thing I may be able to use," he said. With his eyes closed, he mumbled under his breath, and two lights began to glow on his knuckles. "Good to go," he said.

"Right," Dipper's eyes lingered on Ford for a moment before looking to Soos, "When we go at whatever is in there, then it's your turn. Body slam, grab it and don't let go, whatever you think is appropriate."

"Whatever I think is appropriate, got it," Soos nodded, adjusting his cap.

Dipper closed his eyes. It was time again. They had been caught off guard before, but not again. They were alone, with their backs at a metaphorical wall. With nothing really left to surprise them, it was now or never. Dipper shoved open the door and rushed out. He met a shadowy figure with billowing black strands in the hallway.

Dipper roared and lunged at it, punching forward.

It glided aside, and pushed him past, throwing Dipper to the floor.

As he landed and groaned, Dipper felt a wave of nostalgia. "Wait!" Dipper gasped, and turned, "Zander?!" The person looked back to Dipper, and Dipper saw the face he recognized. It was him: Zander Maximillion.

"Taste Lightning hands!" Ford roared, rushing forward, and pointing his six fingers on each hand at Zander. Booming blasts of lightning shot forward. Zander spun away, running up half the wall, kicking off, and landing next to a stunned Ford. The magical attack entirely missed. Ford was helpless as Zander spun, kicked the man's feet out from underneath him, grasped his airborne foot, and slammed him against a wall.

Zander then turned to Soos, who was standing in the hallway, watching the action go down at a distance.

"High five," Soos said, offering a hand. Zander gave him a high five. "Yush! Your plan worked for me, Dipper!" Soos cheered.

Ford grumbled as he lay on the floor, stumbled to get back on his feet. As he did, Zander Maximillion stormed past Dipper and to Ford's feet. His gloved hand reached at to the collar of Ford's shirt, and lifted him up and slammed him against the wall.

"Zander, what are you-" Dipper started, pushing himself up. He watched in shock as Zander removed his scarf from his neck and cast it aside while in his grip. It went rigid and became... spear like. Then, holding the weapon before him, he pointed it to Ford's neck.

Ford gulped, and adjusted his glasses. "Ah, yes, well," Ford stammered, "I would like to first state how much of a pleasure it is to meet someone with as much fighting talent as you. Ah, perhaps if you'd let me down-"

"Sorry," Zander grumbed, "I don't work with magic users."

"Wait!" Dipper rushed in between them shoving aside Zander's weapon. "Don't hurt him."

"Don't get in the way, Dipper," Zander warned him, "This man is dangerous."

Ford stammered, "N-No! Listen to the kid! Dipper is right!"

"You don't get a say in this," Zander grumbled.

Ford glared, eyeing the strange spear, "I feel like I should get a say in this."

"Hmm," Zander rolled his eyes, "Let's say who should get a say in this matter: the guy pinned to a wall, or they guy holding a weapon to the guy who's pinned against a wall? Boy, I wonder," Zander snickered, slowly re-adjusting the weapon at Ford's face.

"Well, uh, when you put it like that," Ford gulped.

Desperate to avoid further actual in-fighting, Dipper asked, "Zander, please let him down."

Zander looked down to Dipper. Eyes meeting again, this time Dipper held back his bitterness and anger towards this man of lies and secrets. He wanted Ford around. He had answers to many of Dipper's questions: and unless Dipper risked delving deeply into the magic of necromancy, he wouldn't be getting those answers with Ford dead.

Slowly, Zander lowered his weapon.

Zander calmly stated, "Dipper, he cast an offensive magic towards me."

"Nothing offensive about it!" Ford debated.

"Offensive as in 'intended to do harm'," Zander barked heatedly.

With a quick nod and hum, Ford said, "Oh. Right. Yeah, true."

"You know that those that cast magic aren't to be trusted," Zander reminded him.

Ford gasped and shook his head. "What anti-magical sentiments! What sort of bias do you get to hold towards me?" he remarked.

"The kind of bias where those who use magic typically grow to become Magical-dependent," Zander retorted.

Ford spluttered. "Ridiculous! Absolutely nonsense! All that 'magically dependent' stuff is just wives' tales from Knights and witch-hunters back in the day to scare off people who would have otherwise delved into the arcane arts," Ford defended.

Zander made to approach him, but Dipper pushed back, straining at Zander's impressive forward strength.

"Zander, I called you here with a spell, didn't I?" Dipper dared to ask. Zander stepped back, looking at Dipper with a fixed stare. "C'mon, do I look, uh, magically-dependent?" he asked. "He's just trying to help us now."

Zander slowly nodded. "Fair. Dipper, look, I'm okay with something as small as that. Sending is a very basic, simple spell that has little consequence to either the caster or target, but small things like that are the gateway spell that got people spell-dependent hundreds of years ago."

Ford huffed, "Unsubstantiated claims."

As Zander glared at Ford, Dipper cleared his throat. "Ahem, Zander, this is Stanford Pines," Dipper said slowly.

Ford smirked. "I thought I saw a similarity to that old man. So, is he Stanley's son?"

"Twin brother, thank you very much," Ford replied.

Zander's mouth dropped open. "No," he barely whispered, staring with wide eyes at the man before him.

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Ford grinned, eating every inch of shock from the man before him, "And clearly the more organized, and capable, brother."

"Stanley Pines was in his mid-sixties," Zander stated, "And you barely look past thirty-five. How?!" he snapped, lurching forward, nearly shoving Dipper aside. "What magic did you-"

Clearly frightened of the dark figure, Ford pushed himself against the wall and cried out, "I was thrown into a failed trans-dimensional portal that instead seemed to destroy the town of Gravity Falls and sent me thirty years into the future! Or, possibly, another dimension. Not sure yet."

Zander slowly leaned back. After a moment, he looked to Dipper. He quietly asked, "He is your family, right?"

"Yup," Dipper noted.

"You'll want to update him soon. Let him know what happened to Gravity Falls isn't his fault," he somberly said. Finally, he turned away from the frightened scientist and researcher, who slumped partially against a wall. After a moment of silence, Zander looked to Soos, who smiled at him. "You hanging it there, big guy?" Zander asked.

"Heh, fell like fifty feet onto a rotten wooden crate. But mostly got splinters," Soos said, holding out a hand covered in short, bristly splinters.

Zander snorted, his smile coming back to his face. He turned back to Dipper, daring a glance to the man behind him. "Dipper, we need to talk about what's happening."

"Yeah!" Dipper nodded, and approached, "This whole thing is way worse than I expected."

"These ghosts," Zander said, nodding for them to follow, "They're all looking for a wedding for true love."

"Constance Hachetaway, formerly Constance Gracey," Dipper explained as he and Soos rapidly followed, leaving a still shaken up Ford behind them, "Is the one behind this. She and her father have gone through seven husbands, each of them dead because of them, and now they want another."

"To get this supposed happily ever after?" Zander asked.

"That's the idea," Soos shrugged, "Wouldn't be so bad if they hadn't, you know, killed like seven dudes before."

"That's the least of our concerns," Zander sighed.

"What?" Dipper snapped.

Zander closed his eyes. "This is going to become a curse if we don't stop it."

"It already is a curse," Dipper argued. Zander slowly shook his head, and Dipper's confidence waned. "It's... not?"

Ford piped up. "A severe haunting and a curse are of the same school. The major difference is how the energy is attached. Curses effect the living, while haunting are effected by the un-living."

"Exactly," Zander glared at Ford as he agreed, and then looked to Dipper again, "This whole thing has just been a haunting. Ghosts tend to stay in one place. The most powerful, as my experience has taught me, really stick to one neck of the woods."

"But poltergeists?" Dipper asked.

"Moderately frightening ghosts, sure," Ford argued, "But still not the level tens we're dealing with here."

"This power of this Constance Hachetaway has been empowering the darkness on this land, and now the waters around it," Zander grumbled. "But she's possessed Mabel. I spoke with them both, earlier," he admitted.

Dipper gasped. "Mabel?" he asked with a tremble in his voice.

"She's still in here, thankfully. But not doing well," Zander shook his head. "The power and emotions of Constance may be overwhelming her to a point of exhaustion. If we don't stop her soon enough, Mabel may be permanently pushed into a corner of her mind, even if we do exorcise Constance from her body."

"What?!" Dipper shouted.

Zander put his hands on Dipper shoulders. "She has time. But that time is limited. The real problem happens should Constance realize that she may not find what she seeks here, in this old home. My guess," Zander stepped away, staring at the hallway from whence he came, "Is her power alone animates these specters and other undead. She's powerful enough that should she, in Mabel's body wish to, she could leave this land behind. The energy she had would corrupt the world around her, slowly killing Mabel's mind while leaving her immortal."

"No," Ford gasped, "A ghost of that power wondering the world in search of true love, when the mind of the ghost is that far bent, could be catastrophic!"

"Exactly," Zander said, "But that's far down the road. We have to save Mabel first."

"Okay," Dipper said, marching ahead, "Talk while we walk, please?" he barked. Zander obliged him, as well did Soos and Ford. Dipper demanded, "How do we stop this?"

Thinking aloud with the other three, Zander said, "A ghost this powerful will need to be beaten in one of three ways – either a more powerful source of power similar to it, such as... ugh, magic," Zander grumbled, "Or another undead, or we have to convince it that what it stays in our world for is not worth undeath."

"True love?!" Dipper gasped, "We have to convince a ghost bent on love that 'true love' isn't worth the afterlife?" At that, Zander rolled his eyes. Dipper retorted, "Man, we couldn't even do that with Mabel, let alone Constance!"

Soos, nervously wringing his shirt, asked, "So, what, hope there's an even more powerful undead just hiding around here somewhere?"

Zander grumbled. "Good luck finding it. These ones on this island are over a hundred and fifty. You'd need to find one that is much older, or even more bitter and wrathful than Constance," he explained.

Soos, with certainty, said, "So that's probably a no, then."

"But we have to have some sort of plan," Dipper asked.

"Yes, I think we do," Zander said.

"Yes?" the three asked. Zander smiled as they exited the hall and entered a large set of stairs that lead upwards, towards a distant lamp light.

"Constance is under the impression that this night she will find that true love of hers," Zander explained. "If we can get close to her, there is a good chance that in her distraught nature, we can plant the seeds of doubt and-"

Zander paused, looking above him suddenly. His face read stunned and upset, and so Dipper also turned quickly and then also felt the same.

Mabel was far above them, wearing a fitting wedding dress with pearls and white lace. She stared down at them, a blue glow in her eyes visible at their distance. Soos gulped as he looked up, but slowly raised his hand. "Hey, Mabel. Or, uh, Constance. Whichever, dawg."

"Mister Orvas," Constance's voice asked timidly, "What is the meaning of this?"

"Constance," he calmly said, yet Dipper sensed the tension in his body as he stiffened.

"I followed you here after I became changed," she admitted, "Thought I would surprise you with my dress."

"It is beautiful," Zander quickly said.

"But you were fooling me," she said, a vein in Mabel's temple throbbing.

Zander frowned. "No, Constance, I-"

Her eyes flashed with fury. "You were never actually going to return to me as a dancer, a friend, or a lover!" she snapped, her clenched fist striking the wooden handrail. Ghostly blue energy flooded out form the handrail, spreading around her until it faded away as residual energy. "You lied to me!"

"Constance, please understand me," Zander said, "These people and I, we're not truly here to stop you from getting what you want."

"They are!" she shouted, clutching down on the railing as she stared down on them. "They've tried stopping my wedding once already!"

"A misunderstanding," Ford attempted to soften the tension.

"You lie!" Constance roared, and again smashed her fists down on the railing.

The blue energy streaked through the woodwork, animating it. Slowly, the light behind her darkened, and the stairways began to shift and turn. The four on the bottom gasped as the floor behind them gave away. A void of darkness and, to their shock, more stairs came into view. Parts of the walls around them faded from sight, leaving a starry space-like landscape filled with twisting, turning, inverting stairs.

"An illusion!?" Dipper asked.

Ford answered, "It's more complicated a magic than that, I think. MC Escher would be so proud."

"If you, Mister Maxwell," Constance said with Mabel's body and mouth, "Truly think you wish to amend for this betrayal, and mean your best, find me in the ball room, if you can. Whether or not it is you, I will find my true love."

"Constance, don't leave us like-" Zander barked.

The woman was gone, turning away to leave the trails of a wedding dress behind her.

With a dead voice, Dipper stated, "I just want to point out how weird it is seeing my sister in a wedding dress when she's only fifteen."

"Come on!" Zander shouted, having them begin to climb the first stairs.

Half way up it, it began to shift. The landing was torn away, as stonework and framing split and crumbled into the void. The three grasped onto the railing, but Zander merely looked around. Above them, another stairs loomed ahead. Placing one foot on a railing, Zander pushed up and grasped onto the stairs above him.

"Zander!" Dipper shouted, watching the man climb up the stairs by hoisting himself up the hand railing. "We're not as secret-agent as you!"

"There!" Zander shouted, using one hand to hold himself up as he pointed. Dipper looked, and there was a soon-to-be parallel staircase to their own, coming up to them from behind. "Jump to it!" Zander shouted.

"How do you know that's a good idea or not!?" Ford shouted, barely able to hold onto his own rail. "I have the feeling that some of these are not, in fact, real!"

"Trust me!" Zander shouted.

"I tried that once! I trusted you, and you ruined it!" Dipper shouted at Zander with venom.

Zander fully looked at him. With those emerald green eyes, Zander said to him, "Dipper, if the time comes when I put myself in the line of danger to prove to you that I'm not always lying and I do it, would you finally trust me?"

Dipper stared up at Zander, blinking. It was one of those days where Dipper had to keep testing his limits of faith. Slowly, looking to the stairs, and then back to the hanging man, he nodded. Zander groaned, and with two very quick rocks back and forth, he tossed himself towards the floating staircase coming to them. He landed on the railing-less staircase with a roll, and ended up right before Soos and Dipper.

"Let's go," Zander said, standing and holding a hand to the two of them.

Soos, Dipper, and Ford climbed onto the strange staircase, and made their way up it. Dipper, cursing himself mentally for allowing himself to be naive enough to think that something as simple as that could justify trusting him, followed Zander up the stairs. After a moment, Dipper realized that they were actually climbing up a set of stairs upside down.

But then Dipper felt vertigo, and his hair stood on end.

"Oh no," Dipper said, and stayed put.

Zander was lightning fast to turn and grab onto Dipper as he suddenly fell upwards. Ford gasped and also lurched out to grab Dipper, holding him down.

"What the heck is happening!?" Dipper demanded.

"This is a trap of the mind," Zander explained, "An enchantment! It's not just an illusion, but also reads your mind. If you think too much about it, you'll be drawn into its own reality," he said, and with his free hand he waved around, "And would you want that, Dipper?"

Dipper looked around hard. The void of this haunting, dark space seemed infinite. Stairs crisscrossed and looped around one another like and endless three-dimensional maze that never had an ending. True to Fords comment, it was very much surreal. He then closed his eyes, and remembered that it was just a lie. He should be standing with those below him. Then he fell down, and landed next to the three.

"That was... ugh," Dipper shook his head.

"You okay dude?" Soos asked. Dipper nodded.

"Let's keep going!" Zander declared, and turned, running up the stairs.

The set of stairs Zander had them climb passed a strange sight; a set of still half-faded wall. The wallpaper was still visible, but glowing. As they ran past it and took the corner turn that led them up still, the wall paper revealed itself to be sets of eyes belonging to large bats. The bats dislodged themselves from the walls, and chased after them, attempting to nip and tear at their backs, necks, and ears.

"Ow! Ah! C'mon!" Ford said, "I do not need one of your many diseases today!"

"Dude, I really hope this isn't what Batman puts up with every day," Soos mentioned, swatting away the bats with his arms, "Because he's even more a hero if that's the case."

"There!" Zander pointed, fast enough to avoid the bats and still remain ahead of the group.

The end of the stairs was in sight. They had made it to the landing that led to the hallways. Zander took to the element of rushing, and leapt the remaining thirty feet, skidding to a halt in the hallway.

Ford, awed at the ability of the man before them, gasped. "Wow! He can do that?"

"Among other things," Dipper breathily said, climbing after them. A bat slammed into his face, and he coughed. "Ow! Off you flying rodent!" he shouted, tossing the squeaking animal behind him.

"Dipper, that's hardly appropriate. Please be biologically accurate," Ford scoffed.

Arriving to the hallway, Dipper, Ford, and Soos found themselves with Zander, who was again stunned. The paintings of the walls were coming to life.

As if the paintings themselves wanted to free themselves from their borders, the images contorted and warped themselves, going from elaborate and beautiful to frightening and terrible. They pushed their way like bulges against canvas, slowly tearing at their confining fabric.

"Okay, more things we should probably run from," Soos pointed out.

"Let's go then!" Zander shouted, and darted ahead.

"Easy for you to say, speed demon!" Dipper shouted.

Zander stopped dead in his tracks, some twenty feet ahead. "Don't call me a demon," he said darkly.

Dipper continued to run, but a registration clicked in his head. That was one of the few times Dipper had ever seen Zander get visibly and instantly upset from something Dipper had said. Dipper would have wanted to ponder and think as to why demon was so important to him, but as he looked around and saw a now half-human half-cat creature clawing its way out of a painting, Dipper figured his own questions could come another time.

"Fine, sorry," Dipper growled.

"They're chasing us, dudes!" Soos shouted.

"We won't be able to get into the ball room with a horde of animated paintings following us!" Dipper shouted.

"Then we need to get them off our trail," Zander said.

They were exiting the hallway, and Dipper recognized where they were. "The entrance hall!" he gasped. Turning around, he saw the second floor, and then below it, the three hallways, one of which had Soos, and on his trail, several angered paintings. He recalled the middle hallway, and how it would lead right to the ballroom.

He called out, looking at Soos. "Soos! You know that plan Mabel and I do a lot with you and Wendy?"

"Divert and conquest?" Soos asked.

"Basically!" Dipper nodded.

"Roger. You and Zander? Me and Ford?" Soos askd.

"Yeah!" Dipper nodded.

"Okay! Come on this way, Mister Ford!" Soos suggested, pulling on Ford's arm to move down the far left hallway. "We're going to divert and conquest!"

Ford roared in exasperation, "You mean divide and conquer!"

"C'mon Dipper," Zander said, moving down the hallway.

Dipper made to follow, keeping pace-

And then, once more, the world seemed to flip on him. He shot backwards and was thrown high into the air, screaming for help. "HEY! WOAH!" he yelled, watching as underneath him, the paintings rushed past, towards Soos and Ford.

"Dipper, what-" Zander rushed back, and gasped.

Dipper saw him looking past him, and he managed to look around him to the source that levitated him.

Wendy was there, holding onto his shirt collar. Wrapped around all her limbs, joints, and major muscle groups were bundles of thin wires, hoisted by three blue ghosts of varying size and shape.

"Wendy, no!" Dipper gasped.

"I'm sorry, Dipper! I can't help it – they're all controlling me," she strained, trying to pull herself away from Dipper. Instead, the ghosts all sighed at once, and together had Wendy hurl Dipper forward. From his tall height, Dipper soared into the hallway on the second floor with a crash, flopping several times on the ground before stalling to a stop.

"Ow," he grumbled.

"Dipper!" Zander's voice called out. "Hey!"

"Zander, go!" Dipper shouted, "I'll be okay!"

"You sure?" the voice called.

Dipper rolled his eyes. Of all the times for this thing, for Zander to be protective, this felt appropriate, but Dipper wanted none of it. "I said I'll be fine!" he shouted.

No reply came from his distance, only the sound of a dash and patter of feet. Zander had taken up Dipper's word, and run for the finish line without him. Dipper wouldn't let him get there alone. His sister was going to need him, now more than ever.

He stood up, adjusting himself with each stumble as he felt the impact of his throw rack his body. Then he turned, and found the three ghosts lowering Wendy closer to him.

"Let go of her!" Dipper growled.

"Sorry, boy," the short one sighed heavily, "Orders are orders."

"And your orders are to have her, what, tied up?" Dipper demanded.

"Exact words, actually," Wendy grumbled, "Are you okay?" she asked, "I didn't hurt you did-"

"Wendy if I get hurt, it's not your fault," Dipper reminded her. "You can't control yourself now. It's these three goons."

"Goons!?" the tallest said.

"You wot, mate?!" the other snapped.

"I say we let 'im get a fist or two!" the smallest agreed, and Wendy was hurled towards Dipper, the ragdoll on strings she had become now a bludgeoning weapon.

Dipper side-stepped her, looking at the strings. All he had to do was break them, and their connection would be lost. Or so he hoped- but he had to dive again- like a yo-yo, they whipped Wendy backwards and threw her at Dipper with a punch aimed at his face.

Dipper rolled past Wendy and ran forward, towards the ball. Like this, with a controlled Wendy being used as a semi-battering ram, he wouldn't be able to do a thing to help his sister. He needed to free her.

"Wendy, did they use any magic to bind you to all that?" Dipper asked suddenly.

"No!" she grunted, "Just a whole lot-" she was lurched forward, forcing Dipper to side-step her, "Ack! Sorry!"

"A whole lot of string?" he asked.

"Yes!" she snapped, and was laid to the ground, and made to run after him, leap up, and kick out at him in some macabre karate. "Stop me dude!" Wendy demanded.

"Sorry!" Dipper said and retaliated. He grabbed he leg, and pivoted. Throwing her aside, the ghosts all gasped as they were pulled along for the ride, being thrown down the hallway.

"That boy has some fight in him," the middle ghost, the tall one, mentioned as he started to climb out of the pile he and his accomplices had created.

"Some fight? Try all bark and no bite!" the other, with a doctor's hat grumbled, "He still hasn't tried freeing the girl from-" the three looked over to Dipper, who had run over to Wendy, still on the ground with the tangle of wires around her. He had found a knot, and started to undo it. "Oi! Hands of the lady!"

The three ghosts floated back up, and threw Wendy into the air, knocking Dipper off her.

"Dang it!" Dipper yelled, rolling back onto his feet as he tumbled. "Why are you so tied to Constance!?" he shouted at them.

"What you mean, lad?" the smallest asked, eyeing Dipper with suspicion.

"Look, if Constance really is the kind of person who would just forgive things, do you really think she'd just let you all go if she got what she wanted?" Dipper asked them. "This whole haunting started because she took out her anger on all of you! You… just who were you again?" he asked them, aware of their odd looks.

"Eh, just hitchhikers," the tall one shrugged.

Dipper rolled his eyes. "Right. Look, I think I can stop you have to let me try!"

"What?" the doctor barked.

"I dunno, it's sounds off," the smallest said, looking to his companions. The tallest was silent, his mostly skeletal appearance barely registerable for emotion.

The doctor shook his head. "We've all tried getting Constance to settle! To calm! She refused. For over a century and a half she hasn't budged on anything! This is the first chance we've got to get her on the move, and we can't just waste it!"

"But at our cost!?" Dipper yelled, "At my sister's chance for a normal life?!"

"What you mean?" the doctor ghost asked, "She's just possessing your sister until the wedding is over."

"With who!? Dipper demanded. "Who will she marry that will make her really satisfied?!" Dipper urged them, stepping closer, aware as they dangled Wendy, who listened to Dipper closely. "She's already married seven men before, and beheaded each one!"

"She did not!" the smallest one gasped.

"That's just a rumor!" the doctor said dismissively.

"It's not! I've seen the bodies! In the basement, where Constance throws away all the people she can just get rid of!" Dipper yelled.

"You're just lying to us, boy!" the doctor said, and swung his fist through the air, making Wendy lurch forward. The redhead dived forward and lifted Dipper off his feet as he tried to block her. Thrown into a door and tossed into a balcony, he slammed into and bent a metal railing. His back ached worse than ever, and from his grip, the keychain fell forward as did the journal he had found earlier.

As stairs born and died in his vision and the world swam like oil and water mixing poorly, Dipper stared at the key and the journal.

They had the same faded pink paint.

Dipper reached forward and snatched the journal, and turned the spine to him again. He read aloud, "Constance Hatchetaway, and the key to her journal," Dipper gasped, and grasped the key, and placing inside the lock along the pages. It opened with a snap, and Dipper saw the pages, pristine and as they had been left.

He barely had time to see into the journal himself before Wendy stepped onto the balcony, flanked by three ghosts.

"Any last words, boy?" the doctor asked, "That is, before we lob you off this here seat."

"He might make a nice ghost," the short one noted.

"Might," the doctor chuckled.

"Don't you dare throw Dipper anywhere!" Wendy shouted, putting more effort into her escape. It barely registered, but her movements became less subtle. Still, she was confined to their will.

"Last words?" Dipper said, and flipped to the last pages. "How about all of Constance's?"

"Eh?" the four before Dipper asked.

Dipper read aloud, "This day, my father has promised me what I've always dreamed of- a proper husband! No longer do I need to pretend with mister Ramsey. I will be married to Jon Hachetaway! According to father, he's long since proclaimed his undying love for me, and is thrilled that I may now become his wife! Now, finally, I think I can my mother proud."

"How dare you read from a journal not belonging to yourself!" the short one barked.

Wendy groaned. "You have no idea, dude."

Dipper held out a hand. "Wait!" he flipped several pages. "This is only a half year later! Jon lied to me! He lies to me and says that I am wife only so that our families are tied together legally. It has been five months since our wedding, and my fathers words to be patient are not working! Jon is a beastly creature, who cares not for love, nor my feelings. He teases and makes me feel so silly for speaking highly of love! Well, if he thinks love is silly, I'll show him! From a silly girl to a man with a silly last name, I'll make him remember to call me silly when I throw a hatchet at the brute!"

The three ghosts stared at Dipper.

"Oh," the doctor gasped.

The smallest shrugged, and admitted, "Heh, I always wondered why she had that thing with her axes."

Dipper stood up fully and looked at them all. "I know it's scary, standing up to something that's meaner, and angrier, and more powerful than you. But this fear you've all had for her is probably why this curse has lasted for over a century. This journal may be damning evidence, but was that really what it took to make you think that following her orders like this was… right?"

The middle ghost slowly shook his head.

"See?" Dipper pointed, "He gets me."

"What do we do, then?" the short one asked. "We just… leave?"

"I mean, bugger all, we could just go back to where we wanted to go," the doctor turned to the three, "New Orleans?"

"What, back on the road, just us three mates?"

The tall one grunted, and said with a cool voice, "Don't see why not."

Simultaneously, the three dropped Wendy, and nodded to Dipper. "Thanks mate. Making us see straight," the doctor said, "We're off to retire."

Dipper stared at them. Soos hadn't been wrong… again. "They do retire," Dipper noted. "Yeah. Not a problem," he curtly nodded. As they floated effortlessly through the wall, Dipper rushed forward to Wendy. "Hey, you okay?" he asked.

"I'll be fine," she mumbled. "Your back okay?"

"Yeah, for now," Dipper winked, and began to fiddle with the knots. Wendy jolted, shrugging him away. "Stay still," Dipper asked, "I'm getting you out."

"I'll be fine, Dipper," she said, "But you need to go!"

"Wendy, I'm not just going to-"

"Yes, you are!" she tried shoving him away, but in her knotted state, she fell aside, and lay still, something of a cocooned Corduroy. "Yeah. I'll be fine. Go save Mabel!"

Dipper chuckled, and stood. "Okay. Just be safe, okay?" he asked, and stepped over her.

"Right. I'll get in so much trouble here," she laughed after him, "You know, waiting until can become a beautiful Wendy-fly."

Dipper rushed through the hallway, the newest journal in his collection out.

He read through it all. The pain of this girl. Her absence of a mother for years, and then her father leaving her for work. His promises that if he could get her enough money, they could one day be happy again, and more like it. The frustrations that she could hear the stories of fantasy and true love, but never could find it herself.

She and her father played the game of victim and victimizer against one another over and over again. Who was to blame? Who was to pin with all the credit!?

Well, I mean, it's no one person's fault, Dipper.

Soos' words rang in his mind.

He finally saw it, he understood it. Fault here got him nowhere against Constance. What she had already done was place blame; on her husbands, herself, and her father. She blamed and blamed and hated because of her blames. As Dipper placed away the journal, he decided what he would do. It was something drastic, and darn it, Dipper was not sure it would work.

The hallway came to an abrupt ending for an overlook for the entire ballroom. There, Dipper saw her: Mabel, or Constance, in the dress.

The entire ballroom had become split in two. Next to Mabel was Edward Gracey, and a clerical looking Ghost, holding a frail, barely together passage of some sort. Across the ballroom to them, stepping in with a heavy look behind him was Zander.

"Mister Orvas," Gracey called out, "My daughter informed me that your arrival would be significant."

"Uh, it is, sir," Zander gulped, and looked behind himself, down the hallway, "Just, uh, waiting for something."

"You needn't wait further, my lord," Gracey said, and indicated to his daughter with an open arm and hand, "She awaits you with love."

Zander looked once more down the hallway. Dipper, above him, wanted to call down, let him know he was here. Zander kept looking down, a frustrated, helpless look in his eye. When Dipper found no way of revealing himself that the floating ghosts throughout the room wouldn't spot, he suited to watching awkwardly. Dipper lowered himself as close to the floor as he could, better to stay hidden.

Zander then turned, adjusting the scarf now resting on his neck, and he approached. Each step was a booming echo. Each brush of his cloak was a rustling of an entire forest. Finally, before the three, he bowed.

"Maxwell Orvas," Edward Gracey smiled ear to ear, "Do you, in all your mental capacity, in all your current blessed soul," he said, and Zander squirmed, "Care and love my daughter, Constance Hatchetaway Gracey, for all that you live?"

Dipper felt sick to see his sister looking at Zander the way she did. What was Zander going to do? He could try knocking out his sister and fleeing to find a place to exorcise her. But then the wrath of nine hundred and eighty eight spirits descend on them, well, maybe minus three or four who really could care less at this point.

Then the hairs on the back of Dipper's neck stood up as Zander kneeled.

"I… do," Zander said firmly.

Constance gasped, struggling to hold composure.

A fire of anger raged in Dipper. This wasn't right for either of them! Zander would never, just, marry someone, right? And this was Mabel! She would love to marry someone, but only on her terms! This was all forced, and all wrong!

"Now, Constance Hatchetaway Gr-"

"I do. I do, a hundred times I do," she said, brimming with joy and a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

Yet Dipper saw past the tears in her eyes. Not tears of joy from the body of his sister, but the beginnings of sorrow. It didn't matter if a trained army of professional ghosts was between him and his sister now. He was going to act!

He took several long steps back.

"Then, by the power invested into me by-" Edward Gracey started.

He was cut off when Dipper roared as he leapt off the balcony stone railing and dived for the chandelier in the center of the room. The ghosts within gasped and watched as the fifteen-year-old dived out, grasping the edges of the chandeliers by tips of his fingers. From his view, he could barely see the four below him. Zander beamed at Dippers arrival, but Mabel was furious.

Dipper shouted, "Constance, don't do something you'll only end up regretting!"

She stormed closer. "No. No! NO!" she roared, and shoved past Zander, who barely budged aside. "You will not ruin my wedding!" she roared, and snapped her fingers.

The top of the chandelier chain snapped off.

Dipper screamed as he plummeted. Twenty feet below, only hard stone awaited him, with some two hundred pounds of metal and crystal from above. A flash of sound, a grasp of hands, and suddenly Dipper was thrown out from under the collapsing crash. He landed some ten feet away, crumbled to the floor.

When he managed to look up, he saw, with a gasp, Zander, pinned under the chandelier. Constance stared at the two, her eyes wide in terror.

"M… mister Orvas?" she asked with a squeaky voice.

Zander raised a hand. "I'm good," he said.

"But… but that crushed you," she gasped. She clutched her head, a crease coming to her brow. "What… what is going on?!" she demanded, turning back to her father. "Why is this happening!? I wanted a wedding! Why must they all seek to ruin me!?"

"Constance!" Dipper shouted, "This isn't about a Wedding!"

She spun towards him, the blue shining so brightly that they created an aura around Mabels head. Her voice boomed so powerfully that other ghosts fled from her vicinity. "DON'T TELL ME WHAT THIS IS ABOUT, BOY!" she rumbled.

Fighting every urge to seek cover, to flee, Dipper held his ground. "Constance, you've always had it bad, ever since your mother left you and your father in death," Dipper said, feeling the power surge through the air the more he talked, but he couldn't back down, not when he was this close.

From under the crushing mess of twisted metal, Zander said, "You got this, buddy," patting Dipper's leg as he walked past him.

"STAY BACK," Constance warned, dark energies crackling from her finger tips. "I will remove you!"

"Not me," Dipper shook his head, "Not like the others."

Constance faltered and took a step away. "Wh-what d-do you mean?"

"I know about your husbands," he said, and raised her journal.

"NO!" she roared, and cast a bolt of power through it. That spectral power struck the journal. Dipper yelled it let it drop, watching as it smoldered and burned at his feet, entirely ruined. She screamed, "NO ONE IS TO KNOW!"

"Why? Because you made a terrible mistake?" Dipper asked, kicking aside the smoldering remains of the book, its use still spent. Constance shook her head, Mabel's face screwed up in a mixture of terror and despair unlike Dipper had ever seen. "Constance, you made a mistake. In life, and now in death. But you can learn from it, and your existence can improve! But you need to see that you keep repeating the same mistakes, and expecting the same results!"

"I-I- you're lying!" she yelled, "I am finally about to get my true love!"

"From Zander?!" Dipper asked. Her head tilted. "Or Orvas, or whatever he calls himself to you guys," Dipper rolled his eyes, "Look, he's not… terrible, okay?" he admitted, "He's not. But really think, Constance: do you really know him? What he is, who he is?" Constance stared at him with fury, being withered down by the ranting of a teenage. He added, "Can you say that you could get true love from someone you don't even know?"

"You don't know that!" she snapped. "True love is beyond understanding! It works in mysterious ways!"

"No, it doesn't!" Dipper shouted, "True love is the willingness to do anything for someone without expecting some sort of reward, and being willing to wait for that person," Dipper sighed, his heart aching as an image of flowing red hair in the wind flashed past him, "And being ready to be for someone, no matter what that means it means to you."

Constance stared at him. The whirling, dark energies slowed.

"Look, I'm no expert on love, Constance," Dipper said, coming closer, "I'm not. My sister is the better of the two of us. But I know that… you don't just get love. You have to like, I don't know," Dipper looked around, and saw Zander pulling himself upright. "You have to maintain it. You have to grow it," he said with a chuckle, "It's not just this mystical thing you get once and 'boom'," he chuckled, "It's there forever. We grow it, and sometimes, we can give that love to someone as they give it to us. But love isn't about receiving that flower," Dipper said, looking back to Constance, "It's about the worth of the flower at all. The worth of love."

Tears ran down Constance's face.

"Some wisdom in this tough moment to soften things up," Zander mentioned. Dipper whipped back with a glare, but paused. Zander was beaming at him. There was no sarcasm. Zander truly had sounded proud.

He looked back to Constance. "Constance, I love my sister. I was willing to risk fighting every single thing in this mansion to get her back here and now. I was ready for it, and if it doesn't show, I thought I was going to die under that chandelier," he thrust a thumb over his shoulder.

With a grumble, Zander added, "Yeah, you really would have. My back just sucks right now."

"Dipper Pines," Constance finally said, causing the two to look to her, "What should I do?" she asked him with such timidity. "I've done so many bad things because of how scared and hurt I was. What do I do now? I… do I deserve love like you?" she asked.

Dipper went scarlet in the face. "It's not about what we deserve right now," Dipper said, "But about what you have. Your dad and you," Dipper said, looking past her to her father, who blinked, "Have done more than you realize to try making each other feel better."

"Wh-what?" Constance hiccupped.

Dipper reached inside his vest again, and this time withdrew another journal, of black and simple leather bindings. He opened it, and found the first entry. "I find myself wondering each night how better to pacify the great emptiness in my heart. My dearest wife has left me, but more so left me a daughter with no mother to care for her now. A father I am, and I must be better for my dearest Constance- more than I have ever been. I will ensure her life an easy one. One way or another," Dipper read, "I will work harder than ever, and find a way to make her smile the way she did once, when my wife was still with us."

Dipper closed the book. Edward Gracey had turned away, his head fallen from his proud perch. A hand raced to his face as his daughter slowly turned to stare at him.

Mabel, or Constance, asked of her father, "All those nights you said you were busy because you had more work… you made that up so you could make more money."

"Yes," Edward managed to say with a choked gasp, still covering his face.

"But that meant I rarely saw you, father," Constance said.

"A good thing," he said, removing his hand to show tears of his own, "For what a rotten father I was. I… enabled you to do the things you did."

Constance put a hand over her mouth, her eyes shot wide.

Dipper stepped up to her, mere feet from her now. "Constance, true love isn't a myth, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't care about the other, and possibly more, important kind of love," Dipper said.

"Which is?" she asked, wiping away tears from her cheeks, "Please! Tell me!"

"Family," Dipper said, and gave his sister a hug.

The glowing in Mabel's eyes sunk away. Her eyelids closed with a shudder, and the ghostly image of Constance appeared, drifting out of Mabel's body with a small rush of spectral energy. Dipper held his weak sister close, keeping her upright.

Then a voice whispered in his ear. "Missing-your-sibling hug?" Mabel managed to chuckle.

"Missing-your-sibling hug," Dipper said.

Then, simultaneously, the two said softly, "Pat-pat."

Ghosts around them began to fade away, becoming little more than wisps of smoke. As they vanished, a gentle wind carried them away. Slowly, the entire mansion began to fill with this blue wind that swirled around them all, cascading into a soft, slowly twisting cyclone of gentle energies.

"Amazing," Zander muttered.

"Dipper!"

"Dude!"

"Mabel!"

Mabel and Dipper turned from their hug and looked to the balcony. There, waving to them, was Ford, Soos, and Wendy.

"Dipper, am I still delirious from the long possession, or is that really Great Uncle Ford who's also haunting us?" Mabel asked, squinting up at the balcony.

"It's a long story," Dipper sighed.

"Good. I want popcorn. You can tell me all about it while my fingers get super buttery and gross," she giggled, and Dipper laughed with her.

A whispering wind had the twins turn back. Behind them, Constance and her father floated back, entering the spiraling cyclone above them. Their forms becoming more and more elemental in appearance, the living (and still undead) present watched as the hundreds of ghosts slowly ascended.

"Thank you," Constance said, and waved to Dipper, "I hope you find that true love of yours," she said.

Dipper blushed, but Mabel nudged his ribs. "Doofus."

"My friends, thank you," Edward Gracey nodded.

"Aww, seeya later, Master Gracey," Mabel waved at him. "Sorry we couldn't have more time to flirt, or stuff."

The two smiled down at the twins, and then, along with the spiraling blue mist above their heads, dissipated. Particles of ghost-stuff floated around the air, becoming less and less corporeal as they came closer to the ground.

Mabel sneezed. "Ack! I think I got dried ecto-plasm in my nose! Ugh! Grossss!"

In the following hour the party, now six, scoured the mansion. It was easily established the whatever presence, either Constance or otherwise, had empowered the island, with its darkly energies, had left. The dead no longer walked the land. The cursed paintings became tattered, ruined pieces of art. The structure rapidly decayed back to its original state, falling into disrepair at an alarming rate.

Again outdoors, the six marched through the forest to the forest line, where Zander had pulled aside Ford for a private talk, leaving the four to their own wits.

"I just hate that Constance had to throw away my sweater!" Mabel scowled, pulling on her wedding dress.

"Yeah, but you get a pretty kick-ass old-school dress for it," Wendy noted, tugging on the fabric gently, only refraining with a chuckle after Mabel smacked her hand.

"At least you're not naked," Soos mentioned.

"This is so true," Mabel said, proudly nodded. "The world isn't ready for me like that."

With a smirk, Dipper added, "Nor will it ever be." Mabel poked his eye with a prod, and he grumbled, "Ow."

"Super rude," she stuck her tongue out at him.

"So, uh," Soos piped up, "Is Mister Stanford secretly being killed by Zander?"

"Yeah, what's the story with him again?!" Mabel barked.

Dipper sighed. "Stupidly complicated, and one I'm not sure we can trust yet. I just know two things – he certainly acts like a younger version of Ford, and he certainly acts like he doesn't really know who we are."

"Weeeeirrrd," Mabel hummed. "Oh well," she suddenly shrugged, "Maybe this is a chance to start on a new leaf!"

Doubt taking over, Dipper grumbled, "It's never that simple."

"Hey, cheer up grumpy bumpy," Mabel prodded his shoulder, "You did just solve and end a hundred- and fifty-year-old haunting," she reminded him.

"Not as impressive as you'd think. Pacifica managed that by pulling a lever apparently," Dipper mentioned.

"Huh!?" Mabel and Wendy both asked.

Mabel whined, "She beat that ghost by pulling a lever?"

"Pacifica Northwest beat a ghost at all?!" Wendy demanded.

Stepping out from the now dull, but less haunted woods, Ford and Zander approached.

"For now, Ford and I have an agreement," Zander stated. "The guy keeps an eye on you, and you all keep an eye on him. When this is all over, you can help him get back to his time or whatever, but he knows plenty enough that he'd be a help to the journey as is."

"Yes!" Ford piped up, "You should have told me! Starkissed?! Incredible!"

"You know about starkissed?" Dipper asked.

"A speculator substance! Something similar to a natural batter for arcane! And to think," Ford looked to Zander's scarf, "That you proudly wear such a refined amount of it-"

Zander swatted away Ford's look with a wave of his hand, and marched away. "I'm going to be leaving now," he mumbled, and he turned to Mabel. "You doing okay?" she nodded. "Good," he smiled, and approached the riverbank.

"Zander?" she asked suddenly. Zander turned, looking to her calmly. "Thanks. For being able to say… all that stuff early. With Constance, to save me. I… thank you," she said, her face growing redder and redder by the syllable.

Forever the master of a poker-face, Zander merely nodded. Dipper was certain there was more to his look, but couldn't make out what it was. Zander turned away from her, and ran into the other female-Wendy. She, unlike Mabel, glared up at him.

A little taken aback from her withering look, Zander asked, "What?"

"Zander, I know you have a lot more information about the dead and, specifically, wraiths," she stated. His face, already a hard read, become stony. "I don't care when, but you need to tell me more. I know you've got information."

"That's pretty wild claims you're making-" Zander began.

"It's not wild!" Wendy shot out. "You knew about the pains of the Wraith! You know about the punishment they can take, and today, you knew that they couldn't be possessed by other undead!?" she repeated to him. Zander sighed and looked away. "Zander, c'mon man. Help a girl out dealing with her problems in un-life?" she asked, her trained nature of absolute chill-ness slumping her into an uneasy smile.

After a silent moment, he gave her a tiny grin. "Okay. We'll talk. But later," he noted, "Because you all have to get north. Back on the trail after all," he smiled.

Dipper snorted. "Right," he begroaned, "Because aside from being stuck in haunted mansions, we have the world to save and have to trek across America to do it."

Zanded firmly nodded. "That sums it up. I'll catch up with you all later, okay? Just keep your phones ready for when I contact you!" he said.

Then, without another word, he turned to the river, and leapt. A gust of wind, a blast of sound, and a splash of water in the river shocked the five still on the land. Zander, in the night sky, was soaring away. Wind whipped past the five like a gale. The flying man was gone in a split second.

Finally, after adjusting his glasses, Ford asked. "So, he can do that as well. Anything else he can do?" he asked.

Mabel muttered, "You have no idea."

"Well, come on," Ford hummed, "There was this lovely Merman who I met on the river who guided me here. If we're lucky, we can ask him about the local fauna while we make it back to the mainland."

"Hehehe, mainland," Mabel chuckled. "Comrade Mabel shall return to the motherland!"

And with a few soft chuckles, the five made their way up the riverbanks. Soon, they would meet with Mermando, who was kind enough to bring them Ford's 'borrowed' boat. Only minutes later, they were sailing away, leaving a peaceful and still hill and island. It was finally laid to rest.

If only others could be.

---

WOOOHOO!

And so part one of season three is done. That's ten episodes out of thirty. Not to mention those odd chapters here or there that will just like that (like, I dunno, summerween?! That's coming up again! I expect some suggestions from you guys again! Anything goes now!)

I hope I met some of the expectations for this chapter. If not, I'll have to make it up to your guys with the coming chapters, where we go back and see some characters from earlier in the series. (anyone smell bird-brains? Weird smell.) Among more, demons and drama will be rearing it's head as well. Stay turned, friends!

Sadly, it is very late, and my eyes do droop and fall out of their sockets (it's been hard to keep them there since I became a skeleton that one time)

So, instead of me rambling, instead enjoy not one, not two, but four Crytograms!

(The entire haunted mansion collapses onto EZB. His soul rises out from the ruins, ready to join the haunt and become number 1000. Only… they're all gone. Dang it.)

---

Staring into his reflection with the imbedded red crystal in his eye, Graupner stared at the dark sky. A base of military like operation now lay before him, entirely under his thumb, and his apprentice's thumb. With Alvis taking away the menial tasks, Graupner had been able to stay atop his tower, monitoring what was important: his enemies.

At least, until now.

He yelled, and punched outward. His fist far too weak to shatter glass, he merely groaned and turned away, shaking his hand away from its temporary pains.

Alvis, sitting on a chair inside the tower center, watched him with wide eyes.

"I assure you, sir," Alvis stated, "This will not be that terrible of a set-back."

Graupner laughed. "She won't help us anymore!?" he roared, "how is that not a setback!?"

Alvis pursed his lips, giving his response clear thought. "When Kelly Yore was contacted, she made it clear that she would locate them for us. We had made the mistake in assuming that the deal was indefinite. Clearly a mistake to make when dealing with a demon of the past," Alvis chuckled.

"I made no mistake," Graupner growled.

"Of course not," Alvis nodded. "Still, without her help, we have leads. I've contacted a few bounty hunters off the grid, and they are more than happy to find some pitiful children. Even willing to bring them back without killing them," Alvis added.

"Darn," Graupner growled.

"Well, by the time these men and women find the twins and their gang of fighting friends," Alvis said, "We can start using are fully trained men and woman. No longer just walking punching bags."

"Good, because the last time they all sucked," Graupner snarled. After clawing at his face, Graupner lowered his fiery temper to a simmer. "Still… no help from our demon friend," Graupner grumbled.

"Well, she was only option one of… two," Alvis reminded him.

Graupner stared at him. The dark, low-hanging clouds of the mountains matched the darkness of his burnt eye-socket, and Graupner's gaze went from sour to willing. He raised his chin, looking down his nose at Alvis.

"Can you speak to him?" Graupner asked, stepping closer. "To… Bill?"

Alvis nodded, and closed his eyes, muttering something under his breath. Then his eyes shot wide open.

Yellow filled white.

Black slits replaced circular pupils.

Alvis looked around, animated more than he usually was, waving his arms about. "Ohh, so, this is good ole Alvis Leuthar! Huh, a bit meatier in places than I would have expected, but hey, more to mold with! HA!"

"Bill," Graupner snarled.

Alvis turned to him.

"You rang?" the high-pitched voice asked him with a wide leer.

"I want a deal," Graupner said.

"You know my terms," Bill chortled.

"Then how about I find you a replacement!" Graupner snapped out in a rush, simmering at his pace of chat.

Bill Cipher's eyes widened, and he whistled. "You mean you'd find me a pretty little toy to play with?" He looked around, "I'll be honest, kiddo, not a good lot of the kinds I'm looking for around these days. You're a lucky find!" Bill said, darting forward and looking at Graupner in his eye, "And trust me, you're going to go far, kid."

Graupner sneered. "I can, and I will find you a replacement. In fact, I've already found her," he sneered.

Bill paused. "Her?" he repeated. Graupner leaned his head forward. "Oh c'mon!" Bill shouted, "Don't you know not to tease a two-dimensional dream demon?! I've got nightmares to terrorize and realities to warp!"

"I'll tell you, "Graupner sneered and said a name.

"Wendy Corduroy."

---

1-12-12 25-15-21 14-5-5-4 9-19 12-15-22-5

(Vigenere)

Tvxv xgsv- op Xmzrlnc Pkrl Repgeotqyr Xhqwr Yyoy! Pmbv: dqiq ok pcwq zyrqyen khg zcoc oh hcgkh? Eel efu jye g xhqwr zf tji ylketpglv? Wjer'y khg tpkwetvcj tonsetv oh xfk soa-kfujt? Eel efu tiyrcy oeik fuv mlyzdg e tgtuwq arvapip cztj e enfsv? Xfkje crqcvru elj doti!

8-1-16-16-25 2-9-18-20-8-4-1-25 1-12-5-24 8-9-19-18-3-8

(Vigenere)

Shr Mslqnrb eydaq oircs qrae caen tczcrv. Av zrr epvrsrg xf ae jlxy ervhrur aag jrliyb me shrvi uzrx wmdds, oxx jsiyo av laefl rgeng. Av baa eekslr ryi cezrrj, ve pdr vwoefmjd ohu kynsgv, fls cnq av ceshek nuevicuef?