I had learned, very quickly, that Gravity Falls did not reward haste.
The forest demanded patience—observation before interpretation, sketch before theory. That was why I had started this journal in the first place. If I was going to understand the anomalies of this town, I needed records. Maps. Correlations. A foundation of evidence strong enough that even I couldn't argue with it later.
The Mystery Shack sat at the center of the page.
From there, everything radiated outward—strange lights, temporal hiccups, localized reality distortions. Most were subtle. A few were… not.
That was how I found the tree.
It wasn't on any prior survey, despite being impossible to miss.
The trunk rose far higher than the surrounding canopy, its bark dark and unnaturally smooth, as if the forest itself had decided to grow something architectural. The air around it felt wrong—not hostile, but detached, like the space didn't quite agree with the rest of the world on where it belonged.
And embedded cleanly into the trunk—
A door.
Not a hatch. Not a knot shaped like one. A door. Rectangular. Polished. With a handle that reflected light far better than the forest sun should have allowed.
I stopped walking.
Instinct overrode curiosity just long enough for me to pull out the journal and sketch.
The lines came easily. Too easily. As if the door wanted to be recorded.
I noted the scale of the tree, the angle of the hinges, the complete absence of rot or moss near the frame. No markings. No symbols. No warnings.
That alone was alarming.
After finishing the sketch, I stared at the handle for a long time.
I have walked away from anomalies before. Many times. This was not one of those moments.
I opened the door.
The forest vanished.
I stepped into a space that should not have fit inside a tree—wide, tall, warmly lit. A lobby, by all definitions. Ornate without being gaudy, symmetrical in a way that felt deliberate rather than decorative. The air was still. Clean. Quiet in the way libraries are quiet.
At the center stood a reception desk.
No staff. No signage. Just a small brass bell.
I approached it cautiously, every sense alert, and rang the bell.
The sound echoed once.
Then—
Someone was suddenly there.
A tall figure stood behind the desk, dressed immaculately, posture perfect. Faceless, yet unmistakably present. He bowed slightly, with practiced ease.
"My apologies," he said smoothly. "I should have greeted you at the door."
I did not move.
I did not speak.
I simply stared, every mental alarm screaming at once.
Behind that calm, courteous voice, unseen but unmistakable, I felt it—
Recognition.
He knew exactly who I was.
And somehow… he had been expecting me.