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.

109. The First Wraith, Part 3

A tense, energetic silence filled the air around them. Eyes met one another; wondering who would breach the silence and ask the first question. Perhaps not a surprise at all, Dipper was first to speak. "Anything?" he clarified.

Zander frowned. "If… it's of a personal or inappropriate nature, no. That said, anything you can think of relating to… well, all of this? Sure. It's all on the table."

Dipper giggled. "Oh man. Oh man!" he flipped open the pages to his own blue journal, "To think I had questions to ask the Guardsman, and finally you- he- whatever, is going to answer them! Where do I begin!? Powers? No," he shook his head, scratching at his scalp, "Too mundane to start. Maybe how you became the guardsman? Ehh, too much to fill before and after. Oh, Maybe-"

"I have a question," Mabel blurted out. Though Dipper looked vexed, he held his tongue and turned to listen. Mabel frowned. "When Arline and Mister Steindorf fought, she said that you had 'not died'. Is that, like, the same thing that happened with you earlier?"

Zander's chest puffed out, and his eyes widened. He looked like a flood of memories passed behind his eyes. The starkissed stone reacted. No image came before them in the room, but lights of purple and pink hurtled between the starlight that danced around them.

"Omir," Zander chuckled.

Mabel let out a small giggle herself, perhaps from nerves. She added, "That wasn't his real name either, was it?"

"His name," Zander sighed, "Was Sefu Olishia. He went as Omir Steindorf when you knew him, specifically Omir Steindorf the second." He chuckled, "That name, Steindorf, was the name of his very first mentor in the collective of mages he studied under. A German wizard who I briefly knew, long, long ago."

"And you two had a falling out?" Dipper

Zander took a big breath in. His hand loomed over the orb, and then he placed his palm along its side, and closed his eyes. As he looked like he was about to meditate, the light around them all shifted and brightened. Suddenly, they could hear wind, crashing of waves, and the bustle of voices. The lights took sharp turns, creating lines, shapes, movements of objects.

There was, moving and living within the large room, a piece of life on a city corner that overlooked the sea. The image wasn't perfect; things moved with a haze of smoke following each change, as if the idea of change caused disruption in the scene. There was a pleasant looking table, large enough for two. Surrounding it were many other tables, densely occupied.

Nearby this outdoor seating were three or four storied buildings, with decorated metal railings. It seemed hot, even as it was evening. Cheers and outcries of excitement echoed around the sole occupant of the table. Those who walked by the sitting individual wore wild, late nineteenth century parade garb. There were candles and lanterns held by them, who strode down the street with a swing in their step. The sitting person wore an immaculate blue and golden suit and wide-brimmed, flat-topped hat.

Zander announced, "New Orleans, eighteen-ninety eight. This is Mardi Gras."

Mabel cheered. "Oh my gooosh, I so badly wanna go one day!"

Wendy twisted herself over and smirked at her. "Girl trip?"

"Girl trip," Mabel affirmed with a definite nod.

Dipper, trying to identify the sitting person, stepped closer. The man had his head tilted down, into what appeared to be some sort of newspaper. "Is this Omir?" He asked Zander.

Zander Maximillion nodded.

A figure emerged from the passing evening parade. Wearing an equally beautiful three-piece suit, and billowing cape, a silver-masked man approached the table. The newspaper shifted. A cool, gentle voice called out from the seated gentlemen, "You took your time."

The voice of the Guardsman came from the vision, "This tradition allows masks to go unquestioned. I think you can understand my comfort in coming only now."

The newspaper dropped. Omir Steindorf, or Sefu Olishia, or whatever his name was, took off his hat and looked up. Standing before him was the Guardsman, in a midnight violet suit. The image of Sefu Olishia was that of his younger countenance. He smirked, a knowing twinkle in his eye.

He chuckled. "I'm sad we hadn't caught up in these past few decades." He stood, and moved across the table, wrapping his arms around the Guardsman. "It is good to see you, old friend," Sefu Olishia told him. An arm reached over his shoulder, and the two embraced in a hug. He let go after a moment, and patted the shoulders of his guest. "Please, sit," he suggested, and pulled out a chair. The guardsman obliged, sitting across the table.

Soos chuckled and noted aloud, "Aww, dude, he's so nice to you."

Zander, his eyes twinkling, let out an airy sigh. "Yeah. He was very kind."

In the memory, Sefu sat and he cleared his throat. "I'm sure-"

"I know what you want," the Guardsman quietly said.

Sefu chuckled, slowly lowering himself to a seat. "Am I that obvious?" The masked face nodded. Sefu leaned forward, picking up a small cup, and sipped from the edge. Savoring the taste for a moment, he then suggested, "Capitulate, Guardsman."

The masked face slowly shook its head.

Sefu frowned. "Why not?"

"It's not what she would have wanted."

Sefu Olishia let out a gasp of a laugh. He looked shocked, if not a little stunned. He lowered the cup back down, and leaned forward towards the Guardsman. There was a heat in his eyes. He asked, "And you know what she would have wanted, exactly?"

Wendy, having listened, turned to Zander. "Dude, what are you two talking about?"

Zander quickly explained, "The resurrection of Haddiya Sahar."

"Her resurrection? " Wendy gasped, "The person Omir talked about: the golden soul. He was planning that stunt for over a hundred years?"

Zander nodded. "Well over a hundred. He had the idea the last time we met; before this memory, even."

In the vision, the Guardsman replied, "I can't speak for the dead, Sefu. I can only honor their memory."

"Guardsman," Sefu Olishia rolled his eyes, "Look around. Take a long look at this city. The world is readying for change. Her plan only worked half way."

The Guardsman tilted his head to the side. "And that isn't enough? For us to get an imperfect improvement?"

"All we need to do is regain her wisdom, her vision, her wonderful voice," Sefu Olishia whispered, his eyes twinkling in the light. "Just thing – one of the greatest mages of all time returning, all these years later. Knowledge she gained, we've lost since the fall of the council! We could prepare for the grand reacclimating with someone who could see farther than either of us."

The gang, listening into the scene, turned to Zander. Dipper asked, "Reacclimating?"

"I'll explain later," Zander assured them.

The Guardsman leaned closer. "I know you want her back. Probably more than anything."

"It's not just her, Guardsman," Sefu pleaded, "It's what she can help prevent, and what she can help heal!"

The Guardsman nodded. "I know. So," The guardsman's tone hardened, "When do we start picking and choosing who comes back?" Sefu leaned fully back, hands at his face. As the darker-skinned man massaged his eyelids, the Guardsman pressed, "We make an exception for her, we have just made a huge mistake about the evaluation of life's worth. Or more so, death's worth. If she worth more than anyone else? Do we bring her back, but not the millions, no, billions, who also could have helped the world?"

Sefu, a tad more tired sounding, assured him, "I have explained this to you. I do not wish to play god. I want to correct a mistake."

Fast as lightning, the Guardsman riposted verbally, "If you had wanted to do that, you would have simply done as you thought she would have in her stead."

As the Guardsman had said it, Zander had winced. The gang turned to him, watching his face fall. He looked so crestfallen. It looked like someone had just driven a heavy hand into his gut. As Zander leaned up, harmed with words he had said over a century ago, they saw the wide eyes of Sefu Olishia. He leaned upright, away from the Guardsman. His face was twisted in disgust, a misery. He reached up and place down his hat, looking away from the man across his table.

Looking at the scene, Wendy said aloud, "Harsh, bro."

"Yes," Zander nodded, "One of my many moments of personal failure. I still wonder how this conversation might have gone if I hadn't infantilized him here."

In the memory, the gloved hand of the Guardsman reached forward. He began to say, "That was too-"

"All this time," Sefu's quiet words were laced with anger, and he recoiled from the hand, "You've thought me some child. Some incompetent fool?"

"No," The guardsman assured him, "I'm sorry. I spoke without thinking."

"That there," Sefu snapped, "Is perhaps the very reason we are in this predicament in the first place! Perhaps it because you act without thought that she is dead!"

The nearby, blurred outlines of partiers paused, staring at the two men sharing a table. Sefu waved them all away. The Guardsman's masked face tilted lower. As Sefu breathed slower and slower, he looked to the defeated man sitting before him. There was silence from one another.

There too was silence from the group. The twins, Wendy, Soos: they all turned and stared at Zander. He held the same sort of deep misery that the form of the Guardsman occupied. He looked taken by it, consumed by a sense of regret.

Sefu groaned, and massaged his shaved head. "How does it always come to this?" he asked the Guardsman, "We disagree on what must be done, and then lash at one another." To this, the Guardsman said nothing. Sefu shook his head, and said, "Over three hundred years later, and we still can't agree after… that night."

The Guardsman turned the mask up to look at him. "You have an idea. A new idea."

Sefu frowned. "Yes. One hardly enjoyable."

Mabel, worriedly watching, asked, "What is he going to ask!?"

The Guardsman sat upright. He was rigid. The masked face turned left and right, shaking. "No. You wouldn't ask me to-"

"Stand aside," Sefu declared.

"Oh," Mabel laughed and blew a raspberry, "That. Whatever."

The Guardsman replied, "Unacceptable."

"Ohh," Mabel winced.

Sefu's brows twisted. "Why not?" he demanded. "You don't need to help me because you object to this morality game you think you can comprehend. So rather than participate, let me find it on my own."

"Because allowing your advance is allowing you to commit a terrible mistake," The Guardsman declared.

"I recall you once remarking mistakes are the gateways to new lessons," Sefu replied heatedly.

"Lessons are best when they do not cost the world," The Guardsman remarked pointedly.

"My lesson is to give to the world!" Sefu growled. "I'm returning its greatest magical student we've seen in centuries! How is that not inherently benevolent!?"

The Guardsman coolly responded, "Who are you to say that death isn't peace for her?"

Sefu tensed up, shaking his head. "Your mind must be rotting, old friend. She was life incarnate. She delivered us from ignorance and corruption. Her return-"

"Is an affront to her story," the Guardsman snapped, leaning far across the table in one swift motion, inches from the nose of Sefu Olishia. "Get it through your beautiful mind that though we have lost, her story ends in sacrifice that saved the world. How much damage would have been caused with the world of humankind clashing with the magical one? Face it, Olishia, you would burn her greatest work to hear her voice."

"You are damn right I would," Sefu hissed, shaking in his seat from seething anger. "I cannot believe I was such a fool. All you have ever seen was the danger, the bad, the woe. I see the future. I can see that should she return, whatever beauty she brought to our world, as you would put it, would pale in comparison to what she would make after."

Sefu stood up. His breathing was fast, his shoulders rising and falling.

The Guardsman took back to his seat, and looked up to him. Calmly, and with all the assurance of the flow of deep river, the Guardsman told him, "I cannot abide you defying her. They are my last orders, and… I am sorry. I want to help you, Sefu."

"Then give this up," Sefu leaned onto the table, close to the mask. "Give this up and work with me. I want you at my side!" he admitted with a face full of pain, "I hate this distance that we have nurtured. I hate knowing you are out there still, without a friend, without her. She who loved you more than anyone I have ever known!"

The Guardsman seemed to wither into his seat. "I… cannot help you," he quietly declared. As Sefu sighed, and leaned back up, the Guardsman told him, "I also miss you. I miss you greatly. I know you think I consider you lowly, but please know it is so much the opposite."

"I tire of these lies," Sefu hummed, collecting his belongings at the base of the chair he had sat in.

"No lies," The guardsman stated, "Not this time. Sefu-"

"I think," Sefu Olishia cut him off, "If we are to me again, that name will no longer be appropriate. From this day forward," he reached down, and put back on his hat, and he glared down at the Guardsman, "You shall refer to me as a Warlock. We are, hence forth, no longer acquaintances."

"Sefu-"

"Warlock will do," Sefu Olishia snidely remarked, and took a step aside. "Know this, Guardsman: I will complete my goal. If you stand in my way, you will see how far I have come in my studies. If you come to your senses and apologize for your foolishness, I will gladly amend with you. Until then, I will be anticipating your future presence as hostility." He gave him a small bow of the head, and as he walked away, spouted, "Good day."

As the harsh mage strode away from the table, the Guardsman, through an uneven voice, whispered, "Goodbye."

As the gang watched the guardsman fade into a blurred, inky dark splotch, Zander told them, "That was the last civil conversation we had. We'd have dozens of encounters between then and now, usually escalating into more and more deadly displays. The worst was in West Virginia in the fifties," Zander grumbled, "He altered the weather to suit his battle, and a flood in west Virginia and Kentucky caused some damage."

Ford, frowning, asked, "Wait. The flood of fifty-seven?"

Zander, a tad sheepish looking, cleared his throat. "Anyway, we kind of hit the age of cold-wars after that. He was far cleverer about it than I was. He started to amass power in wealth and status, while I collected information. Information was good, but I never put roots down. Not, at least, until the nineties."

Mabel asked, "What happened in nineties? Other than fantastic fashion, obviously."

Soos added, "And boppin' music!"

Zander told them, "The Paths happened. Arline, Nadan, Darren, Rin, Maureen – five brilliant kids needing a mentor. Some younger, some older, but all determined. Through my negligence and focus on teaching them, I became sloppy in my ability to hide from Sefu Olishia, and the men who worked for him. It endangered them, and in ninety-nine, it all came crashing down."

The faded images never re-focused. They blurred deeper into one another, like oils and inks mixing. Explosions of color erupted around, and a distilled image of a warehouse appeared before them.

Zander told them, "To make sure that Sefu's minions stayed off the trail of the kids, I had to separate myself from them. The best way to make sure the connection is fully cut-"

The warehouse, though still in the oddly pixilated form, erupted. The entire body of the box of a building burst into a shower of orange fire, yellow sparks, and pieces of spinning debris.

Dipper inquired, looking to Zander, "You faked your own death?"

Zander shrugged. "There are very few who know what I am. Most assume I'm merely ageless. If something looks to have killed me, who am I to correct them?"

Dipper nodded, and added, "That's why Darren was so upset with you. This is why Mister Steindorf was furious with you coming back."

Zander smirked. "Sixteen years is a long time to play dead when you're in a cold war," he told them, "I'm sure Sefu was upset knowing that, had he looked more thoroughly, he would have noticed my bodies absence."

"So, you do that, though," Wendy crossed her arms as she pointed out, "Someone gets too close and you just pretend to die for a bit, get back up when no one is looking, and then keep on keeping?"

Scrunching his face up, Zander scratched at the back of his neck. "You'd be surprised how often this worked. I've fooled eldritch gods this way."

Ford and Dipper both urgently asked, "You what?"

Zander, ignoring them, grumbled, "But of all the people who would actually care to look back, even once, it had to be Graupner. That rotten kid used the one spell Wraiths and Wights are basically helpless against."

With a sardonic grumble, Dipper sympathized, "Tell me about it. How did Graupner get so bad anyway?" To that question, Zander only shrugged. Dipper eyed him. "You don't know?!"

"Not how he got bad," Zander explained, and focused his eyes on the now frozen scene of a blurry explosion. It began to fade again, showing two faces. One looked familiar – Graupner, but perhaps as an infant. The other looked similar to Graupner, a child with golden hair and a fierce determination in her eyes. Zander told them, "I know that I tipped a man off, hoping he would be smart about rooting up Sefu's trade secrets."

Frowning, Dipper thought aloud, "Wait, tipped off? Like, some sort of investigator? Or reporter... Not… Hartman? Like, Arline Hartman's dad?"

Zander, riddled with solemnity, nodded gravely. "He was a top-notch reporter during the eighties. I poked him into looking into Steindorf and Co. I… always thought he'd just blow the cover wide open. Instead, he went straight to Sefu first. Had the decency to try talking to my enemy instead of just gunning at him."

Dipper felt a heat in his back. Was it shock and realization, or anger? He couldn't immediately tell. "You're telling me," he inquired, "That Arline's family was killed because you got him involved with all of this!?"

Mabel, her eyes widened, softly asked, "Zander? Is Dipper right?" Each small nod from Zander looked like it caused him pain.

"Why?" Dipper asked, all the need he could possibly muster laid into his voice. "Why is all this going on? What – how – did this start with Omir – I mean, Sefu?"

Mabel, though stunned, answered like an automated machine. "He was Haddiya's apprentice." The gang's eyes fell upon her. After a moment of wallowing in her discoveries, she blinked. "Oh, what? Did I say something?"

"You know more about Steindorf than me?" Dipper lamented. "How?"

"Yeah, cus I'm smart and older," Mabel reminded him with an air of incredulity, "Keep up, beta twin."

As Dipper fumed over his sister's tease, Zander let out a sad chuckle. "I guess that's fair. We know how it ended, I suppose we should go back. Back a long, long time ago."

While Dipper attempted to give Mabel an unfriendly punch on the shoulder, the image around them started to change. As Mabel dodged and evaded his attacks, the twins would pass through scenery, decolorating it. Wendy eventually had to wrap her arms around Dipper to stop him from passing through objects, allowing them to fade into focus. "Just let her get that one. You'll sneak one on her later," She'd sooth Dipper, who melted in her arms.

Eventually, the interior of a large castle was revealed. Harsh, dark stones aided in what appeared to be a trio of platforms. The lowest of the three had many hallways leading away, flickering with magical, glowing, incandescent light. The top platform had a council of hemispherical chairs looking out onto the middle, second tier. These thirteen chairs were filled. Most were European looking people, with elaborate, fancy robes. There was only one person with a shade of skin remotely dark enough to consider being different looking, and she beamed a wide smile. Standing behind her was a tall, looming, shadow of a cloaked man wearing a silver mask.

Kneeling alone on the platform below was a man with rich, dark skin. It was, without question, Sefu Olishia.

Zander announced, "Before you is the meeting hallway of the Council of Mages."

"The Council?" Ford exclaimed. When Zander, smirking a little, nodded to him, Ford stood a bit taller, his eyes sparkling. "History would have us believe they never existed! A fairy tale, or myth."

"As they designed. Attention had always been a thorn in their side. Making sure they could operate without scrutiny allowed them power. And power… well," Zander paused. He pointed to the man in the middle of the seating arrangements. "Ever since he took over the establishment, it became a political structure. They had one ultimate goal, hidden behind scholastic ambition and honorable inquiry."

Worriedly, Soos squeaked, "Ah, take over the world?"

Zander nodded, his head looking heavy and resigned. "Yup. They will later try to establish a magocracy."

"A gun-government?" Mabel blurted out.

As Zander began to cackle, Dipper rolled his eyes. "It's a society where people who use magic rule, and only them."

"Ohhh," Mabel sheepishly nodded.

Wendy shrugged. "I kinda thought he was talking about guns too, not gonna lie. Mag-ocracy? Wild, dude."

Zander, wiping tears from his eyes, explained, "Oh, no. Sadly, that is what, more or less, ends up happening to Europe later. When the attempt to unify the continent with magic failed, coin, guns, and blood came to rule. The world still reels from their impact. But, for this moment, this gentleman wishes to join what he believes to be the world's lead in magical study."

Below them, the man on the middle platform stirred. Looking up, Sefu asked, "Master Goldenlight. In this summit, I ask to be tutored in this most prestigious scholastic society."

The center seat was taken by a tall, pale man with wispy hair, and a look on his face like he smelt manure. He wore a wide-brimmed, pointed hat, and locked his fingers together. The man spoke with all the kindness of a rugburn. "The letter sent from Magus Steindorf is convincing," the man stated, "However, we have no policy for accepting students without a prepared mentor. This letter," the man wove his hand, and a scroll appeared, "Does not mention any name to take you in as a mentor."

Sefu, looking up, had wide, fearful eyes. "Oh. Apologies, grand Arch-Mages," he bowed again, "Master Steindorf made it very clear that he would speak on my behalf."

Another mage, this one sounding more like an annoyed cow, haughtily grumped, "And you thought that an expelled member of our society would be enough credence to allow you into our most glorious halls?"

A different, gangly mage squawked, "Most irregular, at best. At worst, inconsiderate."

Sweating, Sefu bowed again, deeper. "I must humbly apologize. I had no idea."

"Yes, you must apologize," the Archmage sneered, and added, "And of course you had no idea. This grand society of mages stands to teach only the greatest of minds with pure pedigree. You may have the mind, but the pedigree? Has anyone here heard of you?" The mage turned and looked among his peers. "A show of staves – who here has heard of this one?"

The echoing sounds of wind and crackling flame were all that could comfort as Sefu Olishia watched not a single wizard lift their stave. His eyes watered. As he wiped at them, he held his hands together. "Please," he insisted, "I assure you-"

"Assurance from a lowlife such as yourself," The Archmage scowled, "Means little. You have no fame, no credence, save for an exile who we barely register as a sorcerer. Until you return with notoriety-"

"I have heard of him!"

The voice rang true from the side of Archmage Goldenlight. All eyes turned, heads twisting, to see a young woman.

Ford, watching the scene, asked, "And that, I imagine, is-"

Together, Zander and Mabel declared, "Haddiya Sahar."

She was dressed in her rainbow coalition robes. She looked both like she was so very much, and somehow still so put together. She held a stave high above her head. Her ring-covered hand wrapped around a gem-encrusted stave. She smiled, and from her face came the sun, surely, for as Sefu's eyes fell upon her, it was like he had never seen a sunrise until then.

The man in the middle scowled. "Madam Sahar, this is an inappropriate time for a joke."

"Sorry," Haddiya giggled, and stood up, approaching the ledge that separated their platform from that of Sefu's, "I was just thinking about the merits of non-verbal magical components and creating language through motion. He," she said, pointing her ornate stave at the kneeling man, "Is a lichtomancer."

There was a hum of noise from the other mages. While Haddiya proudly stood at the ledge, beaming down on the man before her, he looked stunned. He quietly asked, "L-Lichtomancer?"

Haddiya, quiet as a mouse, whispered down to him, "Light magic," and then gave him a wink.

Archmage Goldenlight scowled. "I have never heard of this man and his work to improve light magic."

"Well, of course!" Haddiya chuckled, turning to look at him with her best smile, "You're so busy running this establishment! Us lesser mages have to keep track of the up-and-coming folk. He's a good one, mark me!"

"You are marked," scowled the elder man. He wrapped his spider-like fingers across his arm rest. After a moment, he smirked. "If you are suggesting that he is a useful mage, then perhaps you would like to mentor him?"

Though her smile never wavered, Haddiya's eyes widened. "Oh," she turned, looking down at the man before her.

Sefu looked back up, appearing the smallest he had ever looked. From Archmage Goldenlight to Haddiya, his fearful gaze peered deep into both. Haddiya's expression mingled with doubt, a hesitancy. Sefu gulped, and his brave face wavered. All the uncertainty in Haddiya Sahar's expression melted away, and her eyes watered, looking on the verge of tears.

"Of course I will tutor him!" she declared, wiping her face quickly. She spun back to her peers. "I propose to mark this day as the first that Sefu Olishia becomes Madam Haddiya Sahar's pupil in study for the arcane arts!"

A sick smile grew across Goldenlight's tight lips. He asked around, "Are there any opposed?" When no hands rose, he stood. "Then congratulations, Madam Sahar," he sneered, "You now may experience the delight that is apprenticeship. This summit is complete."

As the other mages stood, turning towards their respective hallways, Haddiya stepped down from her platform. As she did, the looming, cloaked figure approached the edge. Though Sefu noted the approaching darkness, he eventually turned to Haddiya.

"Nice to meet you, Sefu Olishia," Haddiya grinned, wide and true, "I am Haddiya Sahar, your professor in magics, and new best friend."

His already dark skin flushed deeper red. "I am in your debt, Haddiya Sahar," he told her, his face lightening up. "I will work to become the best, what was it? Lichtomancer? I will perfect this magic form."

Haddiya snorted. "Please, I just wanted to say something so that they'd let you in. They care too much about status, the smelly farts. Study whatever you want! Oh, right. This," she stepped aside, and held her hands out to the tall shadow behind her, "Is my guardsman. As long as you're no danger to me, he's no danger to you."

Sefu, with worry bleeding through his eyes, gulped as he looked to the looming creature. Without a noise made, it dropped to the next level, joining the two. An arm reached up, and a glove took Sefu's hand. The Guardsman calmly said, "Welcome to the Council of Mages, Sefu Olishia."

The vision began to fade. Zander announced, watching the colors blur and the edges and lines swim into obscurity, "The first day was a good one. We stuck it to the elitist jerks of the Council, and we recruited someone with ambition and drive. We'd come to spend a lot of time together. That was in the thirteenth century. Earlier, I think about twelve-hundred and thirteen? Hard to say."

"Huh," Soos examined Zander at a distance, "You, ah, really got that 'ancient celebrity look' down. Don't look a day over… twenty? Hundred?"

Zander snorted. "Funny." He pointed to the fading visions, which began to take new forms. They were not as crisp, or as easily distinguished, but they could be studied. Flashes of light blasted between Sefu and Haddiya, as the two sparred. Moments of laughter echoed about as the three discussed the council. Murmurs and whispers between Haddiya and Zander as she wove her hands around a familiar starkissed stone. "Years would pass. Good years. These are my years as the Guardsman."

Dipper snapped his fingers. "That's the title. You're not the guardsman of the stone," he chuckled, "but of Haddiya!"

"Both," Zander told him, "And I've been a lousy guardsman. I was unable to protect either."

Wendy, petting Dipper's head, asked, "So, she's cool. Got similar vibes to Mabel." Mabel, honored, let out a long, 'awwww'. Wendy continued, "But why was she so dang important? I know we heard it a bunch in your brain, and that was, like, your password?"

Turning his head upwards, perhaps entertaining a thought, Zander stated, "I guess that's fair. She built this," he lifted out the Starkissed stone, "And spent her entire life trying to make magic available to all classes of people, from across the globe. The council hated her for it. She even developed a means to convey magic without use of phonetic component."

Dipper and Ford gasped, while Soos, Wendy, and Mabel frowned. Mabel insisted, "Translation?"

Dipper, beaming, teased, "Looks like beta twin knows something you don't." As Mabel glowered at him, Dipper explained, "She worked to make a non-verbal way of casting spells."

"Oh!" Mabel cheered, "That's wonderful!"

"Magic had always been about movement and vocalization," Zander explained, "It comes from our wellspring of life. What we do with our life, how we dedicate ourselves to what we enjoy, no matter what it is, increases this wellspring."

"Like fixin' things?" Soos asked. Zander nodded, and Soos' eyes widened. "I am a mighty wizard."

Mabel inquired. "Or punching things?"

Zander repeated, "Or punching things." He then took a broad step forward, and pushed out with his hand. From his pointer finger, a strong, single mote of fire emerged. He posture relaxed, and he stood up, examining his work. "Haddiya believed that magic belonged to all people, including those that couldn't speak or read. The body and spirit could also be trained to unleash power from inside our souls, or the world around us."

Cogs locked into place, causing Dipper to twitch. Still leaning into Wendy, Dipper raised a hand. Zander turned to look, and Dipper asked, "So what is the difference between the paths and magic that uses non-verbal components?" Zander gave Dipper a sad, apologetic smile. The cogs turned once more, and Dipper stood up a bit more. "You're kidding me."

"Dip?" Mabel asked.

Dipper shook his head. Anger again boiled in his heart. "You really are the world's biggest hypocrite," he scolded Zander, "Warning me not to use magic, while teaching people how to fight with magic!"

Flustered, Mabel held out her hands. "Wait, wait, wait," she laughed, "Zander, the paths use the elements to fight magic. We don't use spells, which are… magic?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

Taking steps to return to his position by the projector, Zander explained, "If one knows the words to a spell, one can often recite it without issue; no discipline, no control. The paths force us to develop control first, and then gain power later."

Mabel, her eyes shimmering, asked, "The Paths… are magic?"

Wendy snorted. "Well, I mean, Arline could shoot fire from her hands? Mabel," she chuckled, "Dude, not to burst your bubble, but yeah? Of course it was magic."

Mabel spun to her, pink in the face. "But-"

"Mabel deserves some credit," Zander defended her. "I have informed my teaching as non-magic, because I don't teach spells. The paths… well, I'll come back to that. I promise," he told Dipper and Mabel, who looked equal parts infuriated and wounded.

"You better," Dipper scowled.

"Down, boy," Wendy gently asked of Dipper, scratching his neck with her fingertips.

As Dipper again dissolved into Wendy's arms, Zander continued his story. "Haddiyas journey became terse as time passed. See, she was in charge of studying the starkissed stones, and their knowledge seemed infinite. She loved these things," Zander laughed, looking content and at ease as he looked to the orb on the projector, "Not because they were powerful objects and magical conduits, but because they were just 'so pretty'."

"One of the things she discovered," Zander sighed, "Was they could connect to the presence of magic globally. She used that knowledge to create a sense of magical growth in the world, how rapidly magic grows with life itself. In this discovery… she realized something problematic."

The memories coalesced. The room before the gang was now that of a sealed, circular room. A large, oval table sat in the center. Floating candelabras cast arcane light around the scene. Sitting in thirteen chairs were the council. Several new faces presided over older ones. Archmage Goldenlight still stood at one end of the table. At the other was Haddiya, and to her flank was Sefu. Behind Haddiya was the silver masked figure of the Guardsman.

Haddiya, in her chair, said as cheerfully as she could, "We are looking at an apocalyptic event within two centuries."

The various members of the council whispered amongst one another. A large scroll was unfurled along the table, showing a graph. Lines rose, fell, and rose again. There was one that grew, and grew, and grew taller.

Haddiya explained, "The rate of human expansion is, to my study, growing rapidly. I think it's only a matter of time before the hidden corners of magic become the new frontiers. Colonies in the worlds next to ours. The mind-world, the fairy lands, the underworld."

A mage asked, "You think people will want to move into these dangerous lands?"

Haddiya shook her head. "I think the rich want to tear them apart for coin."

"Preposterous," Archmage Goldenlight rolled his eyes, "No amount of mundane human ingenuity can conquer the realms beyond the material."

Haddiya rolled her eyes. "With respect, Archmage, get it together." The mages gasped, and Archmage Goldenlight looked like he had just been slapped in the face. Haddiya continued. "If we were dealing with populations from three hundred years ago, I'd be inclined to agree. But people are starting to improve their health. People are living longer, babies are surviving more often. The population of mankind grows, and they're getting bold. Sure, one in a million was something to scoff at then, but now? That's one 'hero' to defeat monsters per nation! How many nations are there?"

This seemed to stir the confidences of the mages sitting around Haddiya. Many whispered privately to one another. Many turned and looked to Goldenlight, who glared at Haddiya with something akin to pure hatred. He closed his eyes, and then, with words drenched in agony, asked, "What do you propose?"

Haddiya stood up a bit. "We need to think long term. I believe the proper solution is to spend generations preparing humankind to accept the 'monster', the 'weird', and the 'unusual'. They can barely tolerate each other, but when they run into a merfolk, they might as well be looking at the devil himself. So… we need to buy some time before magic and the realities beyond our own meet them."

Archmage Goldenlight gave her a cruel grin. "Speculation and conceptualism. What actual plan do you have, or is this a scare tactic to gain favor in my court?"

Haddiya, struggling to maintain her warm smile, told him, "I have a plan."

"And that is?" he insisted.

Haddiya let out a long sigh. She reached to under the table, and placed a starkissed stone, no larger than a pebble, out before her. As the gathered looked to it, she declared, "We need to reduce the current arcane energies of the material by four-fifths."

Outrage lashed at Haddiya. All around her, the mages launched themselves to stand. They shook their hands, gnashed their teeth, said pretty mean things, and Haddiya stood there, staring at Archmage Goldenlight. He, among all the chaos, seemed calm. His eyes bore into hers, and her sparkling eyes dared him to look away.

"This is foolishness!" a mage cried.

"Heresy!" another yelled.

From next to Haddiya, Sefu Olishia leapt up and yelled, "Enough!" and a bright flash of light bathed the room for a moment. The elder mages flinched, recoiling from his blast of magic. As they turned to stare at him, he shook his head.

Sefu seethed. "You all have had centuries to gain your resources, make your connections. You bath in the cleanest of waters, eat the purest of foods, and have the softest of beds. When a plan to save the world from ages of suffering and war is to reduce your power, not remove it, you call heresy?" he pointed at the man who had done so. "You are, all of you, cowards. You're fat peacocks, squawking about with your plumage while the rest of the world can't even fathom the magnitude of your wealth and skill! Do not stand here and act as if this problem isn't real! This will cause catastrophe across the world!"

From across the table, Archmage Goldenlight nodded. "I, for one, agree."

Watching the scene, the gang looked around. "What?" Mabel asked Zander.

While Zander nodded to Mabel, Dipper started to nod, his eyes narrowing. "He has his own plan, doesn't he?"

Zander, to the gang, recounted, "Goldenlight was always power first, magic second. I never found out for sure, but I suspected that he had been spying on Haddiya. I bet he had been preparing long before we sat down."

Dipper scowled. "He waited for her to speak so he could get his chance to explain a plan, knowing hers would cause this reaction."

"What a jerk!" Mabel cried.

Soos added, "And he sounds like if gravel was narrated by the worlds meanest blowfish."

"Woah," Wendy looked to Soos with wide eyes, "You know what? I hear that now."

"Behold," Soos bowed his head, "My gift, and curse."

In the memory, Archmage Goldenlight smirked, and stated, "The realm of mankind grows bold. It is run by corrupt merchants and guild masters. The worlds beyond the mundane are being threatened. Madam Sahar-"

Haddiya, through gritted teeth, corrected, "Magus Sahar."

Goldenlight acted as if he was burnt. "Oh! I am ever so sorry, Magus Sahar." He turned to his colleagues, added smarmily, "Such a reaction, over an old man's mistake."

While Haddiya and Omir stared daggers at Goldenlight, the shadow of the Guardsman approached, putting a hand on their shoulders. Haddiya leaned back into her seat, pouting. Sefu looked up to him, and nodded, calming himself.

Goldenlight spouted, "Magus Sahar has done her research accordingly. She is, after all, an accomplished and well-versed member of this society. We should not admonish her success here. She has granted us the knowledge of a dangerous, growing situation – the population of the mundane, and their poor leadership. We needn't remove the collision, however, but merely… steer it away. I suggest we act as well, but directly, and in guidance to them all."

Sefu's eyes widened, his mouth dropping open. Haddiya leaned forward. "Wait. What are you suggesting, Goldenlight?"

"Archmage, young lady," he scolded her. As Haddiya lost the light in her eyes, he announced, "It is time, my friends, for us to step into the world of the mundane. We need to shape society ourselves! Put a leash on these would-be perpetrators, and correct their foolishness with our wisdom and intellect."

Haddiya laughed. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"

Sefu added, "It's beyond unethical to use magic to shape all society like that. Not to mention the people wouldn't want you to do that. They'd rebel against you for assuming you had right to 'guide' them at all."

"A fair point," Goldenlight nodded to Sefu. "Which is why we do so subtly; from shadows we would work. Into the ears of leaders we whisper our wants. Into their governance we sculpt our plans. We create a society to govern all of society."

"What!?" Haddiya snapped.

Mabel turned to Zander, "They're suggesting the illuminati?!"

Zander nodded to her. "An early version protype, yes. This isn't the first time this idea comes up. It's a popular idea amongst the sociopathic."

In the vision, it was Haddiya's turn to become outraged. "Let me see if I understand this: you're all saying 'we can't give up our power, so instead we suggest we do the opposite and just take over the world'!? Are you crazy!?"

Goldenlight shook his head. "Magus Sahar, you are upset about being offered the chance to change the course of history personally. You, who are so desperate to raise the lives of those beneath us now may have the greatest chance to do so!"

"By secretly robbing their free will," she retorted.

"A smaller price to pay than removing all magic," Goldenlight answered.

"Nearly all. And agree to disagree," Haddiya snarled.

"Indeed," Goldenlight announced. He looked amongst his peers. "I suggest, friends, that today we adjourn. By a weeks passing, we recommence this meeting, with the sole purpose of voting on our choices."

One of the other mages shouted, "It's an obvious decision, Archmage!"

"That it may be," the prickly old man sneered, "We are a fair council. We will use a democratic process to decide our fate: to weaken ourselves for centuries to come, or to become the first successful global society. I hereby call this meeting complete."

As he slammed a wand to the table, a loud bang was heard. The various figures around Sefu and Haddiya stood. Many cast the two ugly looks. One would pass by, and warn the two, "I hope that Guardsman of yours is as strong as it is told to be. You'll need someone at your back, Sahar."

Rising immediately from the lightly veiled threat, Sefu warned them with a quiet snarl, "And you'll need far more at your back if you insist on speaking to her like that."

As the threatening mage scampered away, the three were left alone in the room.

Dipper took the chance to ask Zander, "They are, for sure, going to vote against Haddiya."

Mabel swore loudly. "Stupid, egotistic, megalomaniacal jerkoffs!"

"Dang Mabel," Wendy whistled, "Don't hold back! Let us know how you feel!"

Soos worriedly looked to Mabel. "Oh, wait, I thought she was upset? Did I miss something?"

While Wendy stared at Soos, wondering if he was being sincere or not, Ford asked Zander, "So, this council was set on world-domination, when faced with the possibility of surrendering a part of their powers. Not even all of it?"

"Most of it, admittedly," Zander sighed. "I did warn her, before this summit, that they'd have a bad reaction to this. I had no idea that they'd go so far as to dominate the world to save power."

Ford hummed. "Disappointing. All the knowledge and skill led astray by fear."

"Well," Zander shook his head tensely, and added, "Not exactly."

Ford, frowning, asked, "They did not… dissolve? I thought the stories of their existence ended in the mid-fifteen hundreds?"

A sad smile on his lips, Zander muttered, "We'll also get to that. But," he then pointed to the scene, which hadn't gone fuzzy yet.

"More?" Mable cheered. "Oh! It's gameplan time, isn't it?"

Zander beamed at her. He held his hand out to the memory before them, and the scene continued.

Once the last of the echoes of the doors from the leaving council had ceased, Haddiya launched herself at the center of the table, knocking over every pitcher of water, each cup, and tossing plates into the air. She yelled, hissed, and slammed her fists into the table. "The literal worst!" she cried.

The guardsman parroted, "Literally, the worst."

Sefu, taken aback at the outburst, put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry. Perhaps the best we can do now is begin to orchestrate our own means to counter the efforts to mold society to their needs. We can begin spreading arcane knowledge around the world quickly."

Haddiya whimpered. She muttered, "It'd be like trying to put out a forest fire with a few buckets. The knowledge we spread would only delay this from becoming worse."

Sefu, anxiety becoming him, pleaded, "Something is better than nothing. Surely you, the Great Haddiya Sahar, is not going to give up?"

A mischievous look grew on her face. She eyed him, and nodded. "You're absolutely right. I am the great Haddiya Sahar, and I am not going to give up."

Sefu beamed. "So, what shall we do?" Haddiya's hand reached back over the table, and lifted up the pebble sized starkissed stone. She eyed it, and grinned. If two centuries had taught this man something, it was being able to deeply read certain actions of hers. His eyes widened. "You mean to do your plan anyway?"

She snickered. "I mean, between letting a bunch of tyrannical Europeans try ruling the whole world, or reducing their power to a fifth of what it used to be, which do you think I'm more inclined to do?"

Sefu shook his head. "That's against council code." Haddiya, in a baby's voice, repeated his words. Sefu frowned at her. "They could bar us from magical use, or imprison us!"

The Guardsman stated, "More likely try killing us." Sefu's eyes widened again, and he stared at the mask of the guardsman.

"Sefu," Haddiya stepped closer to him, a hand on his arm, just below his shoulder. As her eyes poured into his, his trepidation transmuted into breathlessness. Haddiya told him, "You don't need to do this. You have a long, beautiful future as an incredible mage; I know it in my heart. Even if I cut you down to a fifth of your power, you'd still be the greatest mage in this council."

Sefu's eyes watered. "Don't flatter me," he asked her quietly.

"The Guardsman and I must do this," she declared, "We've both seen what happens when unchecked power grows too much. The world around us is about to clash: the magical ones, and the material ones. If we don't stop this, they'll take everything they want, and that is everything."

The Guardsman, looking to Sefu, added, "You do not need to do this."

"Like hell."

The words from Sefu caught both the Guardsman and Haddiya off guard. The man before them clenched his fists, his brow furrowed. A fury in his voice, he told them, "I know I was late to this friendship. You two have known each other almost three times as long as I've known you two. But two hundred years is still two hundred years! Whether or not you like it, I'm helping; anyway I can."

Haddiya squealed, giggling. She leapt at the man before her, wrapping her arms around him in a swinging hug. Sefu, rapidly evolving from fury to elation, laughed with her.

"Best friends," Haddiya told him as she lowered herself. A painful smile was etched onto Sefu's face, and she put her palm upon his cheek. "We've got this, Sefu. The three of us," she added, turning around to the Guardsman. She gave the mask a wink, and said back to Sefu, "I'm going to get ready. We leave as soon as possible. Stealing the largest stone is going to be tricky with all the protective wards still up."

As Haddiya Sahar skipped out of the room, Sefu turned to her like his face was attached to a string glued to form. As the door was closed behind her, Magus Olishia's upright stance faltered, and he leaned against the table. The Guardsman approached his side.

Sefu, shaking his head as he stared at the door, bemoaned aloud, "I'll never tell her at this rate."

The Guardsman, letting out a tired sigh, said, "You've had time to do this."

"It feels like no time at all."

"Two centuries is not 'no time'."

"Bah," Sefu waved a dismissive hand towards the Guardsman. "Danger looms, Guardsman," Sefu turned to him. "Danger and death. How am I to confess something so distracting and confounding as love at a dire time?"

The Guardsman took to lean on the table next to the man. Shaking his head, he wistfully said as he stared at the door, "I do not know. I'm not particularly good at this sort of thing."

Sefu cackled. "Oh, come now; you're the stoic, brave Guardsman. How has love defeated you so easily when knives and hammers have not?"

The Guardsman shrugged. "It is a deep thing to feel, Sefu. It rends the soul, not the body."

"Ah," Sefu peered at him, smirking, "Your one true weakness, perhaps?"

The mask looked back to him. "It is."

Sefu shook his head, and leaned off the table. "I hope that, one day, Guardsman, you have it in yourself to tell me about your life before Haddiya. I would like to know more."

"Should we succeed," the Guardsman tilted his head to the side, "I may yet." Sefu beamed at him, and turned. He had made it to the door, and his hand around the handle. The Guardsman then cried, "Wait, Sefu." Sefu turned, his eyes wide. The Guardsman leaned forward, and approached him. Sefu felt the looming figure stand before him, getting inches from him. The pause between the two took ages.

Sefu looked around, uncertainty in his every twitch. "Are you… well, guardsman?"

The mask slowly nodded. "I… have something." The Guardsman turned away from him. "Something I wish to show you." He took several steps back. He then took a wide stance, and gave out a yell. With a jab, he punched forward.

A gust of wind blew past the Guardsman. It was strong enough to snuff out half the candles in the room. Sefu, already against the door, was pushed against the wooden frame, which creaked and groaned. After a moment, it faded away. Sefu was gasping, holding his chest.

Whispering, his clothes disheveled, Sefu asked, "What… was that?"

"A technique," the Guardsman told him, "A new method to magic."

Mabel, next to Zander, scrunched her face up. She spun over, and promptly swatted the man's shoulder. Zander recoiled, looking stunned as Mabel yelled, "You big, stupid, beautiful hypocrite! It was magic!?"

Dipper nodded, and looked to Wendy. "There it is," he sighed, "She just needed to see it for herself."

Zander, letting Mabel hit him with as much gusto as she wished (which wasn't all that much), welled up his patience and withstood her. He told those around him, "They're a means to produce something wonderous while training the body and mind. Magic, in its most distilled form, only requires the mind, or spirit."

"So, what," Mabel glared at Zander, her face a dangerous red, "I'm actually Malicious, Mana-hungry, Malcontent, Melancholic Mabel?"

Zander stared at her with eyes that got wider with each descriptor. He nodded at the end, and guessed, "Maybe?" As Mabel groaned loudly, pulling at her hair, his voice quieted, and he calmly assured her, "Mabel, I don't tell anyone who knows of the Paths of its origins is because many people who have had glimpses into the Paths, who do learn that it connects to magic, leave behind its greatest lessons: self control, discipline, inner strength, and courage. People chase power when it is easy, not because its something to work towards. Do you think you'd be as strong, fast, and agile if you could just snap your fingers and teleport across a room?"

She crossed her arms and huffed. "I like running in circles, for hours, around piggies. I wouldn't have."

"Maybe," Zander nodded, resigning some amount of the discussion to her, "I try not to make many exceptions. I've been around long enough to see my good instincts lied to, and people turn on me."

Mabel's arms relaxed. Looking up to his eyes, she heard pain in his words. "You mean Mister Olishia? You taught him and he betrayed you."

"Not just him," Zander told her, "There were many. Many have taken what I've learned and gone down dark paths with it. It is one of the reasons why I don't like my pupils teaching others by themselves. But, perhaps," he pointed to the slowed memory, "How about you see where this all leads to?"

As Mabel let out a long sigh, the gang refocused their attention to the scene at hand. As the shock wore off the wizard, Sefu laughed. "That was magic," Sefu restated. "Yet no incantation uttered, nor inscription shown!" he approached the Guardsman, looking around him. He lifted the cloaked arms, checked around the mask. "How did you do that?"

The Guardsman took Sefu's hand, and lowered it away from the mask gently. "Do not move this, please" The Guardsman asked, "It is my safety, and yours." He took the hand of Sefu, and gently guided it aside, motioning that of a punch. "Haddiya figured it out."

"Figured-" Sefu gasped, almost leaping on the spot. "Complete non-verbal component spellcraft?" he shuddered, "Goodness. That is incredible."

"Yes. This form is going to make a new path to magic," The Guardsman told him, "A means to allow the illiterate, the deaf, the mute, anyone who cannot access such teachings as the ones here-"

"What did you call this?" Sefu asked him, a sparkle in his eye.

"I – what?"

"You called this 'the new path'," Sefu pointed to him. He grinned, adding, "Sound rather flattering to give it such a title."

The Guardsman groaned. "I don't care about the name. If you must, just keep it simple."

"Fine: The Paths."

"Good. This skill has a trade off," The Guardsman explained, "It loses precision and complexity. Spells that allow for highly specific abilities require greater focus and ability than even I have yet developed, but you can cast magic with as much force and power as anyone can. A mote of fire becoming a torrent, a wind becoming a storm. With a kick, you can cast forth a boulder. The elements respond to this method the easiest."

Sefu nodded eagerly, his smile ear to ear. He looked to the door, and stared at the Guardsman. His hands up, as if asking for a supper, he then requested, "Can you teach me?" Though a mask blocked his face, it felt as if the Guardsman smiled. The memory began to fade once again.

"Wow," Mabel turned to Zander, "It was named by Mister Steindorf? Sorry, Mister Olishia?" Her excitement slipped away when she saw Zander's face. "Z-Zander?" she asked timidly.

His eyes welled with tears. He stared at the image of Sefu and the Guardsman, standing alone in the room, as it faded away. Zander eventually realized that the room had turned to stare at him. He took a shaky breath, and wiped away his face. "Sorry," he quietly said, "That was among the last times I was at peace with those three."

What anger, eagerness, or excitement in the room faded. Dipper craned his neck around to look at Wendy. She, in turn, glumly shrugged. Ford made to speak, and the words caught in his throat. Soos, however, walked over to Zander, and then gave him a gentle hug.

"It's okay, Mister Maximillion," Soos told him, "Sometimes the past hurts, but you aren't alone. You've got friends here, dawg."

"Yeah!" Mabel said. She rushed over and slammed herself on the other side of Zander; wrapping her arms around him as tightly as she could. "You can feel your feels as much as you feel like it!"

Clearly fighting a watery smile, Zander patted both of them. Peeling themselves away from him, Mabel in particular taking her time, they let him step away from the projector.

"What followed was a blur," he explained, "In an hour, Haddiya had broken the seals that protected their largest sample of Starkissed – the same that we would use to create the Orb of Conservation. She and Sefu teleported us to Spain. Undercover, we joined a crew that was leaving for the Atlantic."

Dipper asked, "Why not just teleport to where you needed to go?"

Ford quickly answered, "Magic is traceable. If one is highly astute with the arcane, one can follow its markings. If they teleported to wherever it was that Magus Sahar wanted to leave for, it would likely mean the Council would soon follow."

Zander smirked at Ford. "Correct," he awarded the researcher. "The council deduced Haddiya's plans the day after we left. We had to leave quickly, and make it difficult for them to follow us. After all, they had more resources, and wizards, than us. We joined a ship with the destination for India, but Haddiya and Sefu both knew it was actually heading for North America."

"Hah," Mabel cackled, "Stupid Chris Columbus."

"A different colonist," Zander sighed, "Named Juan Ponce. See, he already spotted Puerto Rico, and was going to try sailing out again. Haddiya was certain he'd come close enough to the mainland of the continent that we could just hop off the ship and get to shore."

"Ah!" Ford cackled, "And if the council inquired to where the ship was trying to go, they'd get incorrect information – India!"

"That was the easy part," Zander sighed, watching as the vision faded fully into stars that twinkled around them. "Getting the jump and misleading bought us time. We had a few steps ahead of them, but there were eleven angry mages, and dozens of people who took their side in this chase. They pooled their resources, and began to follow us in earnest. Even if we couldn't be tracked, they could start scanning ahead."

Zander stood in the center of the room, biting at his lip. His eyes looked to the floor, and his brow was turned in a deep frown. "I… have not looked at this memory in over a century. It's very painful to me."

"Oh," Mabel walked over, and wrapped her hand around his own. "You don't have to show us it then." As if she knew he might object, Mabel glared towards her brother.

Dipper, still leaning against Wendy, felt a sickly warmth of shame spread up his neck. His hunger for knowledge, despite being a core part of his being, did not supersede his tact. He grumbled, then said, "Zander, you can just tell us with abridged notes, if you want. Or, just… say the result. Whatever you want to do." When Mabel's glare turned deadly, Dipper winced, and added, "Or just, you know, not say anything at all."

Zander shook his head. "Trust… is earned," he said aloud. He patted Mabel, removed his hand from her, and approached his orb. He closed his eyes, his hand hovering over it. "I want you all to know… I'm sorry. What you saw last night… that part of me has been inside my soul for a very long time. And it surfaced during the most important moments of Haddiya's Flight."

Ford looked about, worry etched in his face. "What does that mean?" he inquired. The others, though not as still and worried as they were before, were hit with a sense of danger.

Soos stated, "Ah, yeah, well, uh… Zander is kinda dangerous sometimes."

The stars began to darken. Blurred colors began their dance, taking shape once more.

Zander narrated, "It was a year on foot. All Haddiya needed was a place to hide for one week. Just one week to not have to move, and then cast the spell. Then, she would just need to place it down, and in a few short years, the stone would absorb the magic. It'd be the end of the fairy tales that everyone knew; the end of magic being rampant."

"It would have been a shorter journey if they had not been hounding us. We tried going into places they'd be stupid to follow: caves, canyons, into dangerous storms, anything we thought would deter them. We tried fooling them into going into different directions than us. Many times, it worked; but for never long enough. On and on they kept after us. They continued to chase, and eventually Haddiya had enough. She was done, as was Sefu. They hadn't known the prolonged discomfort of movement like I had. I had traveled for centuries before them, keeping myself sane."

"Mood," Wendy sympathized.

"We found ourselves by the awesome sight that's just that way," he pointed to a window. The five turned, seeing the distant Devil's Tower. "And Haddiya changed plans. She was going to camp, and finish the stone, then hide it away. She'd do it – even if they caught us. And catch us they would."

The image came to view. It was the wooden landscape that the house was built nearby. The scene, the memory, took place on the other side of the stoney mountain monument. Passing through the thicket was a figure, cloaked in black. Wearing a silver mask, the Guardsman stepped out.

Before him, in a large semi-circle, were two dozen figures. They wore various traveling cloaks. Each had wands, staffs, or staves pointed at him.

The Guardsman stated, "Good afternoon."

Some of the mages were atop a horse. One of the many in the clearing, an arch-mage atop a steed, declared, "Surrender, Guardsman of Haddiya Sahar. You will accompany us, and aid us in her capture."

Taking a wide stance, the Guardsman told them, simply, "No."

"You have a choice," the Archmage shook their head warningly, "to either come willingly or-" The archmage flicked their wand. A blast of sparkling energy rushed forward and struck the Guardsman's chest. The Archmage cackled, "Just kidding!"

The Guardsman loosened their stance, stretching their neck.

"Now," the Archmage cleared their throat, "Obey, elemental. Take us to Haddiya Sahar."

Wendy asked, "Elemental?" She looked to Zander. "You're an elemental? What about being a wraith?"

Zander smirked. "On the script that explained why I would be allowed to stay in the council of mages, Haddiya may have… embellished my identity."

Dipper laughed. "She lied about you?"

The Guardsman dropped low, adopting a sprinters stance. Once again, he declared, "No."

As the Archmage stumbled for words, the Guardsman darted forward, rushing upon the clustered mages. Blasts of energy, spells, hexes, curses, everything they could muster was slung at him. Yet he was quick – darting side to side as he sprinted, avoiding their casts of magic. The panicking Arch-mage cried out, "This is impossible! I struck you with a-"

The heel of the Guardsman wish the next thing the mage was met with. As the arch-mage fell off their horse with a loud crash, the rest of the mages took their chances to distance themselves.

The Guardsman cried out, "You have this one chance to amend yourself to my favor. Leave. Return home. Do not speak of Haddiya Sahar or Sefu Olishia ever again. Leave us. If you do this, you shall never find me dogging your shadow. If not," he pointed to the fallen wizard, "Expect this to be your soon to be status."

"Oh please!" someone cried out.

Another mage snapped back, "You got lucky, Guardsman. A spell can fail. You think you have a chance against all of us."

The Guardsman shook his head. "I think you have the best changes now. Don't push your luck."

The mages laughed. They pointed their wands back at him, and launched their magic.

To watch the Guardsman, an older version of Zander Maximillion, dance and fly around the arcane attacks felt like a dancer at their prime. The Guardsman moved more like a serpentine shadow than a human being, twisting and turning. When evasion was impossible, the Guardsman would simply leap high into the air, and then kick at the air, shooting forward in a sudden, unexpected burst of speed.

The magic was quick, but the aim of the Mages were sloppy. Clearly the council wasn't used to targets that moved faster than a pistols shot. After a few moments, the Guardsman had closed in on one such fool, and plant a heel upon their forehead, only to then kick downward. The mage was subsequently planted, face down, into the earth.

Still, the Guardsman was careful. Even if only two had been felled, he took his time. His energy was nearly infinite. Rather than rush through and risk being hit, he evaded, tempting the firing squad before him to make mistakes. Each mistake was a chance for him to close the gap.

Then, from the distance, he heard a massive explosion.

He dared to look back. Through the silver mask, the eyes of the Guardsman saw bright violet flames and a flash of pure white that erupted over the canopy line.

The body language of the Guardsman tensed. As his did, so too did Zander's. His grip on the starkissed stone tightened audibly.

The Guardsman gasped, "Sefu!"

Someone in the crowd shouted, "He's distracted! Now!"

Thought the Guardsman moved quickly in response to the danger, he was still hit with two spells: one on his back, and the other on his arm. The Guardsman's head whipped back. The silver mask flew off as the Guardsman screamed. His eyes were wide with agony. He fell to his knee. His right arm fell limp to his side.

Mabel put her hands to her mouth. "What did they do to you?!" she demanded.

Zander scowled. "A painful spell. Designed to knock someone out with immeasurable pain. The other spell numbed my arm for several hours."

The memory had the silver mask clatter aside. As the Guardsman came to a kneel, panting, the mages approached. Slowly, they stood above him pointing their wizardly weapons down upon him.

One muttered, "Wait, was he just a man?"

"Perhaps it is an illusion?"

Another snapped, "It doesn't matter! He is defeated." The one speak approached, putting the end of their wand under the Guardsman's chin.

Though he had stopped screaming, the Guardsman looked out of focus. There were other noises. In the distance, there was the sounds of battle – clashes of spells, yells. He turned his face to look around his shoulder.

The Guardsman muttered, his mouth sounding dry, "Had…diya…"

"Yes," the mage sneered, "Archmage Goldenlight took to her and the other traitor personally. He will be delivering both of them to a fate they deserve – magical annulment. Then, we shall force them to serve us. Honestly, it's a much kinder fate than they deserve."

The silver eyes of the Guardsman widened. He shook, trembling. His lips started to contort, a violent, hateful grimace growing.

"I should…" the guardsman managed to splutter.

"Oh?" The mage asked, putting their foot onto the face of the guardsman, and pushing him to the ground. "What should you have done?"

One exposed eye looked up to the mage. The left hand, left unhampered, twitched. An uncoiling, serpentine-like material flower into his hand. A spear-like shape, black as night, formed in his hand.

The Guardsman, deathly calm, told him, "This."

A quick slash was all it took. Those watching the memory unfold gasped. Wendy winced. Soos slapped a hand over his eyes. Dipper looked ill, and Mabel turned away. Ford, his eyes wide and fearful, watched the man that had stomped down upon the Guardsman, die. This blood was still airborne as the Guardsman lifted himself up. Stanford Pines turned and looked to Zander.

Zander, hatefully watching the memory, wept silently.

The Guardsman, his silver eyes shining in the dark night, cackled as he launched himself at the stunned group of wizards.

Sweep after sweep of his weapon, more blood cascaded into the darkness.

The Guardsman yelled, "Centuries of putting up with you all!"

Cries of panic, screams of agony, the sudden silence of those still trying to fight; it all blurred together.

"Centuries of letting you bully, belittle, and demean them!"

Arcs of crimson.

"How does it feel!?"

A dozen of the mages had already fallen. The remaining had turned, making their best attempt at fleeing. The Guardsman, laughing like a hyena, raced up to them. He grasped them by their necks, holding them back by their wrists, tripping them; anything to keep them around. He would slay, one after another, until there were some who had gotten too far for him to care. Dozens of people lay at his feet, dead.

Another blast of white light, this time followed by an explosion of golden sparkling light, forced the Guardsman to turn. The blast of energy was so tall it made the distant Devil's tower seem unimpressive. The Guardsman, his face shining with hate, twisted into worry. "No!" he cried, and rushed forward, scooping up his mask as he did. "May I not be too late," he begged, running faster and faster.

The world around the Guardsman became a blur. It was a world of rushing color, blistering cold wind, and the focused Guardsman, covered by his silver mask, and deadly weapon. He saw another blast of golden light, and an outcry of a man.

"Sefu!" the Guardsman cried.

His feet crashed into the soil so hard the ground split beneath his steps. The sides of trees were stripped of bark with his speed. All the world was a blurry mess, save for what was ahead.

The Guardsman saw the clearing he had left Sefu and Haddiya in. It had a massive redwood-like tree, and a weeping willow. Seven arch-mages lay on the ground, defeated or dead. Sefu was knocked to the ground, looking bloodied and bruised. He was trying to stop the tall, thin form of Archmage Barret Goldenlight, grasping at his heels. The old, evil man walked by, focused on the kneeling woman a few feet ahead of him.

Haddiya sat by the willow tree. Her legs were crossed, her arms levitating the starkissed stone with magic. Though she was focused on her task, she saw the man approach.

She told him, "It's already done."

With a terrible light in his eye, he told her, "Soon to be undone."

Bloody rage shooting through his body, the Guardsman leapt high into the air.

"Goldenlight!"

Barret Goldenlight spun, ready to cast a spell to counter, repel, halt whatever attack the Guardsman had. The spear lunged from the left hand of the Guardsman flew true. It pierced the chest of the frail looking man. Goldenlight exclaimed with a raspy cough, his eyes widened with terror.

A loud thump heralded the Guardsman as he landed before the impaled wizard. "I warned you, old man." The Guardsman put a hand on the trembling Wizard's shoulder. "Stay out of her way, or I'll-"

There was a soft thud. Behind Goldenlight, the large starkissed stone had fallen to the ground. It rolled to the side.

Sefu moaned, as if he, himself, had been struck with the spear. "No. No!"

The Guardsman looked back to him, and then realized: the spear was lodged into something else. The Guardsman turned slowly, and looked past the impaled Archwizard.

Haddiya looked to her chest, where the end of the spear had pierced deeply.

Goldenlight, the focus in his eyes fading, chuckled. "Fool. You have, in your rush, performed my task. I must thank you. You finally were useful, in some, small, insignifi-" The Guardsman withdrew his weapon and hastily cast aside the old man, hurling him into the darkness. His unceremonious crumpling was ignored.

Haddiya, slumping back against the willow tree, coughed. It was not a clean cough, for red spittle splotched her lips. "Welp," she chuckled, "I guess that's that." She looked up to the Guardsman. "Gave it our best shot, and you know what? Stone of Conservation: check! We did it. Hah," she gave the shadowy figure a wide smile. "We came full circle, didn't we?" she asked him, "I came looking for you, you tried to kill me, and now you came looking for me, and… well, that's just irony for ya."

The Guardsman stood there; his spear held loosely in his hand.

Sefu cried out, "No, Haddiya!" He clawed at the ground, pushing himself closer to Haddiya. Wounded though he was, it was clear he would live. Exhaustion and fatigue were his greatest wounds. He landed himself next to her. "No, magic can heal you! Use your magic. Close your wounds, Haddiya!"

Haddiya Sahar smiled. "No, no it can't. I don't have the magic I did an hour ago. The spell," she looked down to the Orb of Conservation, "Completed. Mine was among the first to go. I'm all tapped out."

"No, no!" Sefu begged, his breath ragged, his motions frantic. Tears filled his eyes, and he looked between her and the Guardsman. "Help her!" he demanded. The Guardsman stared at her. He hadn't moved a muscle since throwing away Goldenlight. Sefu cried out, "Guardsman! Help her!"

"I… don't know how," the Guardsman replied weakly. With a cracking voice, the Guardsman asked timidly, "What have I done?"

Sefu continued to cry for help. As her strength faded, Haddiya waved the Guardsman closer. Sefu watched the Guardsman kneel before her with unfocused, wild eyes. The Guardsman, now closer to her, shook his head.

Haddiya told him, "It was an accident."

"One preventable."

"Most are," Haddiya winced, holding her bright smile up. "But I don't hold you accountable. You did your best, buddy."

The masked man nodded, and then bowed his head. With a sorrowful voice, it asked, "What… would you have me do?"

Her hands reached up to the mask, and lifted them to her own face. Carefully, she told him, with raspy breath, "Hide it. Protect others. Find peace. Remember –"

The guardsman quietly repeated her words: "There will always be a new day."

She gave them both a smile. It was a smile that, no matter who you were, knew it meant 'I love you'. She then closed her eyes, and rested her head onto Sefu's shoulder. She breathed out, "Damn, bestie. You have really nice shoulders, you know that? They're like nice, warm… pillows."

Sefu, despite his panic, froze. He laughed. He laughed hard. Through his laughter, he began to sob; for in his shaking laughs, she had stopped moving. Sefu lifted her to his lap, cradling her and holding onto her tightly. Her blood was still fresh when the Guardsman walked over to the stone.

His spear recoiled into his cloak, and the Guardsman lowered himself to lift up the stone. It was a silent night, save for the lamenting cries and weeping sounds of Sefu Olishia, grieving his dead love. The Guardsman turned to him. The mask, ever vigilant, betrayed no emotion, but the form of the Guardsman trembled. He watched the broken man, the last member of the Council of Mages, hold his mentor, his love, and the woman who crafted the key to saving the world.

Then, as the cries and wails continued, the Guardsman turned, and walked. He silently moved into the darkness.

The vision faded away.

As stars came into focus, the stunned five watched as Zander Maximillion strode through the starlight, and planted himself back into the chair by his desk. He slumped forward, his face in his hands.

Each of the five behind him looked broken. Ford nodded to himself, readjusting himself and fiddling with his fingers. Wendy sat very still, holding Dipper tightly. Dipper looked vacant, staring at the sight that had been where Sefu and Haddiya was. Soos wiped tears from his face, sniffling. Mabel slowly turned to the desk. With eyes shimmering, Mabel said, "You really meant it. When you said it was all your fault."

Zander nodded, still facing away. With a burst of motion he turned to them, his face wet with tears. "I have always been a scar upon the world. My creation, my birth, was an omen of death. Where I go, people fear, people suffer, people die. I have tried fighting this curse for centuries, no, millennia. But it always, always ends up hurting those around me. I was rescued by Haddiya Sahar, and still I ended up killing her. I maintained a friendship with Sefu Olishia for centuries afterwards, and still was unable to save him. This darkness, my darkness, is one that bleeds and bleeds, soaking the ground around me with the pain of many lifetimes. I'm so sorry. Every thing you've suffered for in all of this has been ripples of my doing."

He turned to look at Dipper. "This is why I wouldn't tell you, Dipper. Do you think you would have trusted someone who is at fault for literally everything that has happened!?"

Dipper blinked, and turned to him. He quietly asked, "Are you left-handed?"

Zander scowled, and shook his head. "I had over a thousand years to train my ambidextrousness. That doesn't matter."

"You lost your right arm," Dipper told him, "That's your dominant hand. When you threw the spear, you needed to hit the old jerk. You just miscalculated."

Zander, with a surge of motion and fury, shouted at him, "You saw it, Dipper! I had a responsibility! One that, regardless the reasons, failed spectacularly! Not only did she die, I was the one who did it! I murdered my best friend, I broke the heart of the man who was closest to me, and then left him in darkness!"

Dipper patted Wendy's shoulder gently. Her arms lifted, and the teenager stepped out. He approached Zander, looking up to the taller man. Seeing those green contacts in the eyes, Dipper's frown faltered.

"You healed me with a technique," Dipper reminded him, "Using four elements, remember?" Zander silently stared at Dipper as if he was some strange miracle. Dipper continued, "You learned how to do that after this. If I am right, it was because of this that you learned to do that healing spell. You undid curse magic on me and removed my scars because this meant that much to you. I can fight, write, drive, use my freaking hands still because of you deciding to learn from a mistake." His lip twitched. Tearfully, Dipper told him, "I'm so sorry, Zander."

New tears fell down the ancient being's face. He collapsed into the chair behind him. Distant looking, like he had sported a new wound from the comment, he looked around. Zander spied each of the people before him, as if daring them to say otherwise. Soos gave him a watery smile, and thumbs up. Wendy offered him a simple nod and kind smile. Ford, similarly, nodded defiantly to Zander.

Zander turned to look to Mabel, who had run to him, wrapping her arms around him. Through tears, she told him, "Please stop hating yourself. Please, Guardsman." His eyes filling with light, Zander Maximillion, the Guardsman, looked down to her, patting her head. She looked up to him, "You have so many people who care about you. You messed up a long time ago."

With all the kindness and softness of a feather pillow, Zander told Mabel, "Just like she'd say."

As she beamed, Zander looked to the rest. "I hope you've found your answers. I know they don't help with what we're doing next, but… if you have more questions, I'll try answering them."

"Oh," Soos hummed, and wiped at his eyes, "So, like, what are we doing next?"

Dipper cracked his neck, and planned. "In Chicago, we talked about making a new Orb of Conservation. That is the plan, isn't it? Especially now that we know you were there for its making, in person."

Zander smirked. "I was there, but I'm not a mage. I don't know the magic for it. The only other person I know of who can make such power was Sefu Olishia."

"Oh," Soos winced, "Fresh out of Sefu's."

Standing tall, Zander announced, "I have a different plan. It's simpler, but requires more strength, more power. We may not be able build a new object, so instead we need to punch through our problems and get it ourselves. In short: we're going to bring Orb of Conservation back to us."

Dipper's mouth fell open. "That's an option? We can do that?"

Mabel nudged her brother's shoulder. "That means-"

Zander nodded. "We need to go back to the site zero: where the orb last was." As five pairs of wide, mystified eyes stared at him, Zander iterated, "We're going back to Gravity Falls."

---

And so, the many theories and ideas about Zander Maximillion are finally free. You've made it this far, congratulations: You've uncovered the past of the Guardsman. (Achievement unlocked: "It Belongs In A Museum".)

I know that The first Wraith wasn't exactly exciting in the thrill-ride sort of way, but this was my 'Tale of Two Stans' episode. A character who many of you have mixed feelings towards finally is far more in the light than ever before. I have dwelled on this ancient person for almost a decade now. He means a lot to me, and he might be one of my saddest, most broken people. We see the truth of the Paths, the connection between him and Arline, and even some other, hinted at connections. And though we know his past, we don't know his future. What becomes of this man, the First Wraith, as he moves on from his great tragedies?

I dunno. Probably will just retire.

Speaking of retiring, I will be (just for a bit). July is ROUGH for me. I have a lot of family plans that consume this month, for, alas, I am American. I have patriotic duties to watch excessive fireworks get blown into the sky. The rest is just because my family likes me or whatever. Gross. So, sad to say, no updates in July. But in August, we'll be back in the action with the return of a certain character. Read the outtro, and you'll get a hint as to who is back.

(EZB, leans back into his chair, proud of his work) Ah. Nice. I guess I'll just hit submit, and be done with it! (EZB hits an 'activate' button, instead of 'save') Wait. Activate... what?

(EZB looks under his chair, seeing that a massive rocket has been strapped to it.) Ah. I see. (A fuse along the rocket is lit, snaking its way closer to the device.) Well, this is only slightly inconvenient for my family. Maybe they will see me for a moment- (EZB screams as he is launched into the sky. After a few seconds, vanishing from sight, a firework display reads...)

"Remember to review and follow for future updates. Return to Gravity Falls has 10 episodes remaining!"

---

Harmony had been staring at the stairs for a long while. It had been some time since Stanford Pines had been escorted away by Soos Ramirez. She had lived long enough to know when something funny was going on, even if she hadn't figured out what. Yet, she tasted the magic in the air. They were up to something.

The number of times in her life she had been correct regarding a suspicion made her confident in her pessimistic views regarding strangers. These pines, their friends, and family, were all a liability to her and Orvas. She crossed her arms, wondering what he had seen in them. He had changed so much since the battle in fifty-two, and now he seemed far more attached to the common people.

She curled her nose. That smell in the air – something magical, or unusual, grew stronger.

Her eyes narrowed, she whispered to herself, "What is going on?"

Footsteps landed next to her. She offered herself a glance, which was enough. Midian, the witch-singer, had come to stand next to her.

"Miss Harmony," Midian gently stated, coming to stand aside her, looking up. Harmony silently nodded. Midian asked, "What is happening?"

Her lips turned into a sardonic smirk. "Zander is, likely, tormenting those kids with his sordid past."

"No," Midian shook her head, and insisted, "You're worried."

Harmony cocked an eyebrow and turned her head ever so slightly. "Am I?" With a softness supported with the power of confidence, Midian nodded pointedly. Harmony let out a small sigh, resigning a part of the conversation to the singer. "You think so, do you?" she attempted in evasiveness.

Midian took a half step in front of Harmony. "I know it was scary when the news reached us. I was very sad, and then you told us he wouldn't be actually dead. I thought you were lost, truth be told."

"Who is to say I am not," Harmony off-handedly pointed out.

"But he has returned," Midian reminded her, "And has allies. I would have thought this was a good thing. It's a dangerous time, and we need friends. Yet, this seems to worry you."

A tightness grew in Harmony's shoulders. Her body, often so carefully moved about and held, seemed to tense up further. Whether or not she wanted to believe Midian's words, there was a part of her, physically, that did. Harmony scowled, and her crossed arms held themselves even tighter than before. "Yes," she told Midian, "I am worried."

"Why?"

Harmony looked to her. "The last time he looked like that, he got into a fight with a powerful wizard, and didn't speak to anyone for decades."

Midian blinked. She re-examined Harmony. "Decades?" she repeated, her bird-song like voice cracking at the note.

The stage-manager squinted at her. "When it comes to things like this, with Orvas, with Zander," she snorted, "If he acts like that, he plans something big. Very big. Last time he did this, he vanished for all those years. If he's not vanishing this time," she shook her head, "What is next? What has he planned that isn't him repositioning for a better advantage? What is going on in that dumb head of his?"

Midian shook her head. "I do not know. I hope… I can help though."

Harmony looked to the witch. To most, the look she gave the singer was a cold one. To anyone who knew Harmony, it was almost a full smile. "I know you will. There may be a time, soon," she put a hand on the witch's shoulder, "Where I need to step aside and help Zander. When that happens, I will ask you to protect the boys."

Harmony beamed. "I will. Just say the word, and I'll stop anyone from attacking!"

There was a very loud, hissing pop. A burst of bright light illuminated a space ten feet from Harmony and Midian. The entire population of the large room turned and stared. Standing ten feet from the two of them was a large, round man with goggles, and grey clothing. A large bite mark in his arm had the sleeves tattered.

Nervously, the man complained, "Uh-oh! Noticed! E-Engage stealth mode!" He then poked at his watch. All his grey clothing turned into a forest with beautiful redwood trees, moss, and fungi. "Oh no! W-Wrong one!" he poked at it again and again.

Harmony and Midian, watching this buffoon of a man attempt to hide, looked to each other. Harmony gave a toothy grin. "The word is given," she told Midian.

The intruder, who had just created the 'perfect' camouflage (the walls around him), turned to them. "Ah, now they can't-" and he screamed in terror as Midian the witch dive-bombed him with a wicked grin and danger in her eyes. She slammed him to the floor with a vice-lock.

Harmony, standing above Blendin' Blandin' with a grin, stated, "I just love it when girl time is productive."

---

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