Gideon and Charles watched Mabel run away from the Museum and disappear into the trees.

"Well," Charles said sarcastically, "congratulations. That worked really well. Now she'll definitely want to go with you."

"Shut up," Gideon snapped. Then he frowned. "Wait. What are you still doing here?"

Charles raised his eyebrows. "Good question."

Gideon looked at him warily. The fake people in this prison had always disappeared as soon as Mabel left them. So why hadn't Charles? And what was that mocking look on his face?

"What are you?" Gideon asked.

"Also a good question. I've been watching you through Mabel's eyes since you came. It's hard to adapt to having another person in here, I'll admit. You've kept me on my toes."

Gideon's eyes narrowed at this cryptic message. "Are you some kind of prison warden?"

"Close," Charles said. He wasn't talking like himself anymore, and he stood stiffly, as if he didn't quite know how to carry himself. "More like I am the prison. I'm using this body to speak to you."

"An honor, I'm sure," Gideon said dryly. Despite his callous tone, he felt an immediate sense of foreboding. Supernatural creatures, ghosts — he could deal with those. But a magical force appearing as a person to talk to him? No, thank you.

"You won't take Mabel away from here," the prison said through Charles. "She's mine."

"She's not yours," Gideon said. "Can't you see what you're doing? You're helping Bill! You're killing someone!"

"That is what I was created to do, yes," was the reply.

Gideon frowned. "But you were created by the ancients, weren't you? They fought against Bill. They captured him."

"Correct on all counts," said the prison. "And they knew that Bill was too powerful to trap indefinitely. They wove a powerful prison that trapped him, but they had to leave him a way to escape, or else their magic would have unraveled. It's part of why he's so dangerous: If the prison is too easy to escape, then he gets out very quickly. But if the prison is impossible to escape, it can't hold Bill at all."

Right. Gideon had read about that once in the Order library, and he thought it was dumb that Bill could simply dissolve his impenetrable prisons. Stupid overpowered demon. "So you're part of the magic that would let him escape," he said. "But the ancients still created you."

"Yes. They had to."

Gideon didn't think they had to create magic that would kill. But maybe they did. Maybe it made the prison stronger somehow. There were lots of different kinds of magic in the multiverse — and concentrated in Gravity Rises specifically — and it annoyed Gideon that he didn't understand most of them.

"The point," the prison said, "is that I will keep Mabel imprisoned. I will drain her of her life. And you will not get in the way."

"I'm going to get in the way," Gideon shot back. "In fact, if you'll excuse me, I need to go find Mabel."

Charles placed himself between Gideon and the door. "I won't let her go. She's been here twelve days — according to the time in this world — and she has three days left before she dies. I can't let her leave when I'm so close." He gave Gideon a significant look. "But I'll give you the chance to leave. Take it."

Gideon scoffed at the offer. "I'm not leaving without Mabel."

He tried to push past Charles, but Charles shoved him away and said, "You'll be a lot happier if you do. Leave, and wait your turn, and you'll have your own perfect world. It's a great way to die, honestly. At least, I imagine it is."

"You're crazy," Gideon said through clenched teeth.

"I'm doing my job," the prison corrected him. "Why fight it? You don't have to have scars in your perfect world. You can even be with your sister again."

Gideon stiffened. "What do you know about her?"

"Only what Mabel knows about her. But I think you miss her. You want to see her again."

"Stop!" Gideon yelled. "I'm not going to let my friend die in a fake world, and I'm not going to have my own fake world. Get out of my way!"

Charles smiled. "But Gideon," he said, "a fake world is your only chance of seeing Everly again. Don't you want to take that chance?"

That was too far. Gideon screamed and ran at Charles, ready to shove him against the wall and bash his head in.

But Charles disappeared before he could touch him. Gideon was left alone.

~~~~~

Mabel ran through the forest, not paying attention to where she was going. She didn't get very far before she tripped and fell to the ground. It didn't hurt, but it knocked the wind out of her, and she braced herself on her hands and knees to catch her breath.

She didn't want to run anymore. Too much effort. She dragged herself over to a tree trunk and sat against it, drawing her knees to her chest and lowering her head.

Then she started crying. She didn't know why. She felt so confused. One moment, she was happy, ready to have another fun day in the forest. The next, she was horrified. The sight of Gideon's scars had been a lance in her brain, piercing the haze of happiness and unearthing the swamp of sadness and pain. This sudden sadness was overwhelming, but she didn't understand it. Where was it coming from? What was she thinking about that would cause these emotions? She had no idea.

She was so afraid. Afraid of Pacifica. Afraid of Bill. But wasn't Pacifica just a character? And who was Bill? She also missed her family. But that made no sense — her family was here. With her. How could she miss them?

Her right hand suddenly flared with pain. She gasped and grabbed her wrist, staring at her hand. It looked normal. So why did she feel like she had just been stabbed?

She was so confused.

Gideon had told her that her world wasn't real. He'd been trying to tell her for four days, she realized. But she hadn't heard.

Or maybe she just hadn't listened. She had been so happy. . . .

All happiness was gone now, though. All Mabel had was the confusing sadness, the image of Gideon's scars in her mind's eye, and the pain in her hand.

Her world was fake. Was her world fake? She didn't want to believe it. Everyone she loved was here: Dipper, her parents, her great uncles, her friends. Things were wonderful. And it all felt real, too. What could make her think it wasn't?

Gideon. Gideon and his scars and his claims that she was dying—

Dying. She wasn't dying. She didn't feel like she was dying. In fact, she didn't remember the last time she had felt any pain more than an annoying scratch or sliver. Her hand was aching now, but that wasn't dying. Right?

She took a shaky breath, then lifted her head and looked around. The grass beneath her, the trees and happy animal sounds around her, the blue summer sky above her. . . This was real, wasn't it? It had to be.

"Mabel?"

It was Gideon's voice, but Mabel didn't know which Gideon it was. She didn't know which one she wanted. She decided not to say anything; maybe he wouldn't find her.

"There you are," he said, walking up to her. It was Charles, with his normal t-shirt and his smooth arms.

Mabel didn't say anything. Part of her felt disappointed, even repulsed, when she saw Charles; but another part of her wanted him to come and make everything normal again.

Charles sat beside her. "I'm sorry about my clone," he said softly. "That was really mean of him. Are you going to be okay?"

Mabel didn't look at him. "His scars," she whispered. "They remind me of something. . . ."

"A nightmare you had, maybe?" asked Charles.

Mabel frowned. "No. I. . . I don't remember any of my dreams from the past few weeks, actually."

Now that she realized this, it was very strange. She was a vivid dreamer, both with pleasant dreams and with nightmares. But she couldn't remember any of her recent dreams.

"I don't know what his goal is," Charles said, "but he obviously wants you to be confused and scared."

"He said what his goal was," Mabel whispered. "He wants to get me out of here."

"Out of here?" said Charles. "Out of where? I don't know why he would tell you that your world isn't real, Mabel, but he's lying. He's obviously lying. I mean, look around you. This place is real."

A robin flitted down to the ground, landing a few yards from Mabel. It hopped around for a bit, then snatched a bug from the dirt and took off again.

"It's beautiful here," Mabel said. "It. . . feels real."

But. . . but if Gideon was telling the truth. . .

Suddenly, Mabel felt claustrophobic, as if the open summer air were pressing in on her. "I — I want to be alone right now," she told Charles, still not looking at him.

"Oh." He sounded disappointed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," she said, a bit sharper than she meant to.

In her periphery, she saw him put his hands up. "Okay." He got to his feet. "If you feel better, and you still want to go to the brownie village, then we can. Just come find me."

She stared at the grass. The thought of going to the brownie village, of having a fun, magical day with nothing to worry about. . . After the events of the past half hour, that idea felt alien to her.

Charles left. She was alone again. She didn't want to be alone. Or maybe she did.

The sun shone in dappled light through the trees. Mabel felt a little better out in nature, but she also felt worse, because now she had a pervasive thought that maybe, just maybe, this forest wasn't real. But if it wasn't, then what was the real world like? Mabel couldn't think of any other Gravity Rises than this one.

She lay on her back and watched the leaves above her dance in the summer breeze. Her face felt stiff with dried tears. She didn't want this world to be fake.

"Mabel?" called another voice.

She stiffened just a bit. It was the same voice — did that mean it was Gideon this time? She wanted to see him even less. Even more, actually. She didn't know.

"Mabel, I'm sorry I yelled at you." Gideon was nearby, but he didn't seem to know where she was. "Can I talk to you? Please?"

She didn't move. If she just lay here and did nothing, there was a chance he would pass her by without finding her.

But maybe he could give her answers. Maybe he could tell her why she was so confused. Why her hand hurt. The pain had been fading in and out — it had almost disappeared entirely when she had been talking to Charles — but it was back now. She gave a quiet moan as it flared.

"Mabel?" Gideon seemed to have heard the moan, and he was coming her direction now.

The pain subsided a bit. "Over here," Mabel whispered. It was quiet, but he was close. She could hear his footsteps.

He appeared in her periphery, looking down at her. "Hey," he said.

She sat up but didn't look at him. "Hi," she whispered.

He came and sat beside her, but not as close as Charles had. She appreciated that. "I'm sorry I yelled at you," he repeated.

"Thanks." She glanced at his arms. He'd pulled his sleeve back down; she couldn't see any scars.

"They're real," Gideon said, catching the glance. "They. . . my father leaves them."

Something flashed through Mabel's mind. A man with brown hair and a trim mustache, looking disdainfully down at her. Mabel, wearing a black dress, yelling up at him that he was the worst father ever.

Where did that come from?

"Or the servants," Gideon added. "They're all in on it. They help."

Another image, this time of Mabel — still in that black dress — running away from a man down thickly carpeted halls. Then another image of a different man standing on the Museum porch, placing a suitcase inside.

Mabel shook the confusing images from her mind. "Why would they do that?" she whispered.

She glanced up at his face and saw his uncomfortable expression. "N-never mind," she said, looking away.

"It's a fair question." But he didn't answer it.

They were silent for a minute. Then, in a rush, Mabel said, "Why didn't you tell me?"

She didn't know why she said it. Why would Gideon tell her about this? But. . . she still felt a tiny bit betrayed, somehow.

Gideon looked as uncertain as she felt. "What do you mean by that?" he asked carefully.

"I don't know." She buried her face in her hands. More images slipped through her mind: Gideon, sitting in the dark with his amulet lighting up his face, looking up at a portrait on the wall. Mabel and Gideon together, looking down at the sketch of a flower in the Journal.

"Well," Gideon said slowly, "if you want to know why I didn't tell you in the past four days, it was because I wasn't thinking about it. I was focused on trying to get you out of here, and I didn't really think about my. . . my scars. . . until this morning."

Mabel was quiet. That wasn't what she meant. She didn't know what she meant, but it wasn't that.

"If you want to know why I didn't tell you in the real world. . ." Gideon hesitated. "I was afraid. Afraid you'd look at me differently. Like someone to be pitied."

Mabel was quiet. Was that what she had meant? Maybe it was. "The flower," she said, not sure what she was saying. "The flower — that could take away the pain — I didn't realize—"

"The Northwest's Relief? You remember that?" His eyes were hopeful.

"I. . . I don't know," she said again.

"Try to remember," he said. "This place took away your memories, Mabel, but it can't have erased them completely. You can remember if you try."

It didn't feel like she could. She just had random images and words she didn't mean to say. Those didn't seem like memories.

"Here," Gideon said. "Let's look at your sketchbook again. You didn't seem to remember last time, but maybe you will now." He pulled the book out of his backpack.

Mabel felt a rush of fear. "N-no," she said.

Gideon paused. "Why not?"

"T-too painful."

He sighed. "I know. This whole thing is painful. The last few weeks in the real world. . . have been pretty scary. There's part of me that honestly can't blame you for wanting to live in this world. But it's killing you, Mabel."

The words that had glanced off Mabel's ears the past few days now bored into her skull. "I don't — feel like I'm dying," she said pathetically.

"You are. You only have three days left." He opened the sketchbook. "The world we're going back to isn't a happy one, not right now, but it's the real one. It's where your real family and friends are. We have to get back to it."

Gideon flipped through the pages, pointing to pictures of Dipper, Ford, and others. Mabel looked hard at the pictures. When Gideon stopped on a picture of Lee, Mabel inhaled sharply. "Grunkle Lee. . . is captive," she said.

"Yes. He was at the minotaur village, but now he's at the Northwest Manor, possessed by Bill."

Mabel shivered all over. "Who's Bill?" she whispered, not wanting to know the answer.

As she asked the question, she got answers from her own mind. A glowing yellow triangle, staring down at her with a single eye. Her own body with bright yellow eyes and a demonic smile. Grunkle Lee, also with yellow eyes.

"Bill Cipher. He's the reason you're in here," Gideon said. "He wants you and me and eight other people to die so he can escape Gravity Rises and wreak havoc on the multiverse. Can you remember him?"

Mabel squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't remember much more than those images of Bill, but her emotions obviously remembered him. The fear and pain that overcame her was the most she'd felt yet.

With the mental pain, the physical pain in her hand spiked. She let out a hiss and clutched her hand.

"Pacifica stabbed you in the hand," Gideon said softly, "with a magical dagger that started this whole fake world. That's why your hand hurts. When we get out of here, I can take you to the hamadryads, and they'll be able to heal you."

Mabel looked at her hand, and suddenly she could see a dagger sticking out of it, with blood pouring from the wound. She cried out, but then the image was gone. "What — what was that?"

"What was what?"

"My hand. Did you see the blood?"

Gideon shook his head. "I don't see blood right now. But it'll be there when we leave."

"I just — I just saw—" She glanced back down, and this time she didn't see the knife or the pouring blood. Instead there was a haze of blood, floating around her hand as if in null gravity. Then that image, too, disappeared.

Null gravity. . .

She remembered being terrified as gravity changed. As food splattered onto the ceiling. As Dipper fell from his bed on top of her.

"Dipper," she gasped. Her thoughts were going everywhere. "Dipper — he — he tried to keep me on the ground — but the dark blue glow — it pushed him away."

"Yes," Gideon said. "Yes, that's what happened. Right before you came here." His voice sounded encouraging, hopeful, even excited, but it was undercut by sadness. "We were with you in the Hall of Mysteries, thinking it was the safest place for you — well, the basement was safest, but Ford wasn't there to open the vending machine. Anyway, we were all in there, and Pacifica phased through the wall somehow, then grabbed you and phased back out again. Do you remember that?"

Mabel shuddered again as it came back: The memory of Pacifica appearing from the wall, rushing forward, grabbing Mabel's wrist, and pulling her away from her family. The terrifying feeling of passing through the walls of the Museum, as if Mabel were a ghost all over again, just as she had been when Bill had possessed her.

"I think I do," she whispered. She wished she didn't.

Gideon flipped to a detailed drawing of Fiddleford. "What about Fidds? Do you remember him? Do you remember what he did to your uncles?"

Mabel frowned at the picture. Of course she remembered Fidds. He came by every few days to visit Mabel's uncles. But he didn't do anything to them. Certainly nothing bad.

More memories came into her head. Fiddleford, lying unconscious on Ford's bed, his white beard so long it trailed onto the floor. Lee, sitting on the couch, in deep discussion with Ford. Mabel and Dipper, outside Ford's door, listening as Fidds told his story. The Pines family in a group hug, with Lee's tears falling into Mabel's hair.

"Kids, I. . . I have amnesia," she remembered Lee saying. Then she remembered the sad expression that rested constantly on Fidds' face. He. . . he had done it. He had destroyed Lee's memory thirty years ago. He regretted it more than Mabel had seen anyone regret anything.

"I remember," she said. "How could I forget that?"

"The moon's magic was blocking your memories," said Gideon. "But somehow you got past that."

"Moon?"

Gideon nodded. "This world is enclosed in a blue sphere that's hovering over the forest like our own personal moon."

Mabel tried to visualize that, and she kind of could, but her brain rejected it. There was nothing strange going on in this forest. It was normal. That's what she wanted to believe.

But she couldn't. Not anymore.

How had she gotten past the magic, if it truly had been blocking her memories? Mabel remembered Gideon's words — "You're a prisoner here," "I'm upset because you're dying," and so on — and how they had never registered in her mind. But now they did. What had changed?

Her mind pulled up the image of Gideon's scars. That's what had changed. He had shown her his scars. Shown her the evil imprinted on his own body.

"Can I see them again?" she asked quietly.

It was a question out of nowhere, at least from Gideon's perspective, but he still seemed to instantly know what she meant. He shied back. "I. . . I'm not sure."

"That's what helped me get past the block," Mabel said. "You. Your — your scars. Showing me. . . woke me up. And I. . ." She paused, trying to figure out how to put her thoughts into words. "I want to make sure I'm still awake."

"I'm not my scars," Gideon said quietly, defiantly.

"Of course not," Mabel said. "I just. . . Never mind. You don't have to show me."

Gideon took a deep breath. "No. It's. . . it's okay." His tone didn't say it was okay, but he slowly undid the button on his wrist and rolled his sleeve up his arm.

Mabel sucked in a breath as Gideon slowly let one out. They both stared at the scars on his arm. "These are — all over?" Mabel asked.

"Pretty much. It's why. . . why I wear long sleeves all the time. Remember the first night I stayed at the Museum — the night Lee was there — and how I borrowed some of Dipper's pajamas?"

Mabel furrowed her brow. An image came back of Dipper giving Gideon the only pair of long-sleeved pajamas he owned. "That's why you asked for long sleeves," she said.

"Right."

They fell silent. Mabel's eyes traced the haphazard pattern of Gideon's scars through her own haphazard thoughts. She remembered what she'd learned about Gideon's abusive situation, but she knew she'd never seen these scars before. Why hadn't she realized they would be here? Even when she'd learned about the Northwest's Relief, she hadn't realized Gideon wanted to use it to get rid of years' worth of scars.

"Can I. . ." She reached out a tentative hand. Gideon flinched, and she stopped. "Sorry."

Gideon took a slow, deep breath. "Okay," he said. He moved his arm back so Mabel could touch it.

Her fingers brushed the ridges in his skin. He shuddered at her touch.

They were real. Feeling them beneath her fingers was Mabel's final proof that the scars were real. And she had her memories back of learning about the abuse. She couldn't doubt it anymore: This was the real Gideon.

"I'm sorry," she said, withdrawing her hand. "I should've realized. I should've helped you."

"It's okay," Gideon said. "Staying with your family has been the best help." He pulled his sleeve back down and buttoned the cuff, taking a quiet breath of relief as he did so.

"So what now?" Mabel asked.

"Now," Gideon said, sounding grateful to get on another topic, "we go to the library. That's where the exit from this world is: on the back side of the library."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Why does that make me so scared?" she asked.

"Because in the real world, that's where the entrance is to the Order of the Crescent Eye. But here, it's our escape route."

The phrase "the Order of the Crescent Eye" brought back another slew of memories: Pacifica dragging a handcuffed Mabel around the Order library. Pacifica holding a knife to Mabel's neck. Pacifica pointing the memory gun at Ford and Mabel. And, finally, Gideon telling Ford and Mabel that Lee had been in Gravity Rises the whole time, hiding under the town, leading the Order.

"Oh," she said quietly, "right."

Gideon put the sketchbook back in his pack, then got to his feet and held out a hand to Mabel, who took it and stood up. "Are you ready to go, Mabel?" he asked.

The question scared her, but Mabel knew what the right answer was. No matter how nice this world was, she didn't want to die in it. "Yes," she forced herself to say.

"Nice sentiment," said a voice, "but you won't be leaving, Mabel."

Mabel turned around. Charles stepped into the clearing — but he didn't look the same. Now, he was wearing the same outfit as Gideon, except it was ragged and torn. His skin had a greyish hue to it, his hair was smoky, and bright red scars were visible through the holes in his clothes. An eerie smile split his face.

"Leave her alone," Gideon said. His voice was strained, his face pale, as he looked at Charles' new appearance.

"I don't think I will," Charles said. He turned back to Mabel. "I'm sorry I left you, Mabel. I shouldn't have. But I'm here now. I'll save you from him. I'll make sure you never see the real world again."

He took a step forward, and Mabel and Gideon moved back. Gideon grabbed Mabel's hand; he looked tense and ready to run.

Charles scowled at them. "So that's how it's going to be, hmm?" he said. "You won't escape me, Mabel. This world has been a dream, but I can make it a nightmare."

His amulet started to glow. Mabel and Gideon turned and ran.

~~~~~

Gideon pulled Mabel away from Charles. But before they could even make it three steps, Charles used his amulet magic to yank Mabel to him.

She cried out in surprise and fear as she flew through the air. Gideon turned and tried to levitate Mabel back with his own amulet, but it was too late. In a flash, Charles shank Mabel to the size of a brownie, and she landed in his hand. He stuffed her into a pocket and leapt into the air, flying away from Gideon.

Oh no you don't. Gideon grabbed onto Charles with his magic. The blue glow around Charles grew bigger and brighter. Charles seemed to struggle for a moment.

Then he turned around and gave Gideon an unsettling grin. "I don't have to play by your rules," he said. "This is my world."

The blue glow grew brighter, then dimmer as Gideon's magic failed. Charles flew away.

No! Gideon flew after him, trying to figure out what had just happened. Had Charles cancelled Gideon's magic? The amulets couldn't cancel each other out; Gideon and Pacifica had discovered that years ago. But this wasn't the real world, and Charles wasn't a real person. It seemed he could cancel Gideon's magic if he wanted to.

Was this Charles, or was the prison using his body again? Or was it both? Gideon wondered this for a moment, but quickly decided that it didn't matter. What mattered was that Charles had Mabel, and Gideon had to save her.

Even with Gideon flying as fast as he could, and willing himself to go faster, he couldn't catch up. Charles flew over the forest; tiny Mabel was still in his pocket. Gideon watched for her in case she fell out, but she didn't.

Suddenly, Charles vanished.

Gideon came to a sudden stop in the air. No! Stupid Charles with his stupid disappearing act! Gideon scanned the sky around him, knowing it was futile. Where could he have gone? Could Gideon follow? Surely if Charles wasn't limited to the rules of the real world, then neither was Gideon.

But try as he might, Gideon couldn't teleport himself. Not even a little bit. He landed in the trees below him and tried to teleport, to shrink, to levitate two objects at a time. He couldn't. Maybe he was too worked up to focus, but it seemed he was limited to the rules of the real world.

"Augh!" he shouted. If he was in some sort of dream world, then why couldn't he manipulate it? Was it because it was Mabel's dream, not his? Or was the prison so different from dreams that it was a faulty comparison? But Charles had called it a dream. . . a nightmare. . .

Focus, Gideon. He didn't have time to muse about the nature of the prison and its fake world. He had a mission. He had to find Mabel.

He flew back into the sky, but he seemed to leave his hopes behind. Even if this world was just Gravity Rises and the forest, that was still a huge area. Gideon could think of plenty of places to look for Mabel — the Museum, the Northwest Manor, Ford's bunker — but Charles wouldn't have taken her anywhere obvious. Plus, there was no guarantee that every place in the real world was represented in this fake one.

Mabel could be anywhere. And in three days, she would die.

Three days seemed like a long time, but since they were only sixteen hours long, that gave Gideon only forty-eight hours to search the entire forest and find his friend. He couldn't shake the fear that, no matter what he did, he would be too late.