Author Note: The spiritual successor to "Et exspiravit in ruinam".

Gravity Falls, Oregon- A place of magic and wonder. Some know it as the home of myths and mystery; Others call it a town of crackpots. Mason believed the former. It was hard not to. Beasts/monsters of all shapes and sizes roam the vast forest and sky-reaching mountain. (Most prefer to keep to themselves, safe and hidden from humans.) Not to mention, during his first summer there, he experienced and witnessed so many magical places, creatures, events, and bizarre things. Beard cubs, barf fairies, leprecorns, cowls, ghosts, geodites, gremloblins, manotaurs- All that and much, much more. He even went on fantastical quests and fought Bill Cypher, a dream demon, and won! Plus, he had seen many more dangerous and powerful creatures as his great uncle Stanford's apprentice.

That's right! He, Mason 'Dipper' Pines, was the apprentice of the journals' author. Of course, it didn't happen immediately. Ford gave him a year to decide whether or not he wanted to accept the apprenticeship offer. And Mason considered it greatly over that time, leading to him sending Ford a letter giving his answer: Yes. His answer was 'yes'... for various reasons. In Gravity Falls, he could be the smart, dashing adventurer. While at home, he was just the nerdy, weak runt obsessed with all things magical. It sucked. Being in a place that didn't suit a person with a heart for magic and adventure.

Thus, at the ripe age of fourteen, Mason left his family and childhood home behind to become Ford's apprentice.

Long, wispy clouds stretched across the sky, catching the shades of red, orange, and pink bordering the horizon. Despite being sunset, the forest had already darkened considerably. Shadows stretched over the ground as if trying to consume the land whole; Umbrae obscured the darkest nooks and crannies, hiding whatever may lurk within. Normal forest animals retired for the night, returning to their hidden dwellings. Meanwhile, mystic beings and creatures that haunt land surrounded in blackness and stars revealed themselves. But they weren't the only ones who planned on roaming throughout the night. Mason intended to roam with them.

Garbed in his usual attire (a baseball cap, navy blue vest, orange t-shirt, grey shorts, and sneakers), he carefully crept through the Mystery Shack with a small, black backpack over one shoulder. It carried all the essentials: Fairy/bug repellent, a bag of potato chips to bribe gnomes with, snacks, three disposable cameras, a bottle of water, a few medical items (like bandages and such), and a few miscellaneous things. Everything he'd ever need was there. After all, Mason had planned this day for weeks. A day where he could explore Gravity Falls' forest undisturbed and without Ford breathing down his neck. The man never let him do anything by himself. Not even pick a perfectly safe, magical flower.

'No, Dipper! Don't touch that fairy. It could have Sparkle Pox.'; 'Quick, get away from that flower! It might just be a rare Cloud Spitter.'; 'Don't be deceived by that unicorn. They're all jerks.'- Ford always had an excuse to keep him away from anything magical. Including grass and rocks! It was utterly ridiculous. Stupid. Infuriating. Mason was supposed to be his apprentice, yet the elder constantly acted as if he needed to be babysat. Like he was still the same child who first entered Gravity Falls with a love for magic and a silly dream. But Mason wasn't. That child grew up and became a well-read, moderately strong sixteen-year-old.

To make it worse, during the apprenticeship, he had yet to learn anything useful- Everything Mason learned over the past two years, he discovered himself. With zero help from Ford. Certainly not what he had in mind when agreeing to be an apprentice.

Mason sighed and slowly opened the Shack's backdoor before sneaking out. Quitely, he walking across the clearing. About halfway to the forest's edge, a branch snapped behind him. He whirled around in shock. Standing midway between the door and him was none other than the one person he wanted to see the least: Ford.

"Dipper, where do you think you're going?!" He demanded, brows furrowed and lips pulled into a deep frown.

Mason internally groaned, Ugh... Ford. Why did it have to be Ford?

If it were anyone - literally anyone, even Bill or a unicorn would be preferable - else, he'd be ecstatic. But, no. Today the fates decided to sabotage his well-thought-out plan. Perhaps it could still be salvaged, though.

"J-just the... uh, Man Cave?" He squeaked, mentally berating himself for the pitiful lie. The Man Cave, home of the manotaurs, was located in the south; Mason was quite obviously heading north. AKA the wrong direction. That fact discredited the lie. And ruined his chance a successfully deceiving Ford. Lying. Sneaking around. Grunkle Stan was a worse influence than he initially believed. But could he really be considered a bad influence if Mason failed horribly at those two things? Probably.

Ford huffed and crossed his arms, eyeing him dubiously. "Don't take me for a fool, boy. I know very well that the Man Cave is in the opposite direction. Plus, you are a terrible liar. Now then, where are you really going?"

"The most northern forest," Mason mumbled, defeatedly, seeing no point in lying again. The elder would only call his bluff once more and punish him for continuing to be dishonest.

"The most northern forest?" Ford said with a serious tone, "You mean Death Hollow?! At this time of day?! Are you insane? Dipper, no one who enters that accursed woodland ever returns- Deadly spirits lurk within those trees, plotting to end all who enter their domain. Even I, a renowned adventurer and fighter, would never - and will never - dare to enter such a place. What makes you think a scrawny, pubescent teen like yourself can tread there? Especially since you're so-" The man paused his rant and gestured at Mason. "... ill-prepared."

"But I-"

"No, Dipper. You have no formal combat training, your arms have the strength of cooked spaghetti, and you have a knack for getting into trouble; You wouldn't survive a second in Death Hollow. Now go back inside. The woods are dangerous at night." With that said, Mason had no choice but to retreat to the Mystery Shack. His chance to explore the forest alone was thoroughly thwarted. A mere unreachable dream. He angrily trudged up to the door and glanced over a shoulder. Ford had vanished. Hopefully, back to whatever pit he crawled out of. Mason reached out for the door handle only to have the life scared out of him.

"Ignore him, kid." Turning to the wooden bench slightly startled, he spotted Gruncle Stan leaning back and holding a soda can. A clean suit and eye patch adorned him. His favorite of the two great uncles continued, "Ford doesn't know what he's talkin' about, you're great the way you are."

Mason's shoulders slumped, and his lips turned down. It was nice Stan was trying to lift his spirits, but- "If that were true, then he would allow me to go on dangerous adventures with him, or send me on an adventure of my own..."

His words received a deep frown. Stan grumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'That darn idiot brother of mine.', and scooched to the other side of the bench, patting the free space invitingly. Mason walked over, dropping the backpack on the ground with a thump, and flopped down. While staring dejectedly at the ground, hints of shuffling sounded by Stan. Suddenly his epic staredown was interpreted by a can of soda. His lips quirked up a fraction. Gruncle Stan must have grabbed me one.

Mason wordlessly accepted the soft drink, cracking it open and taking a sip. Silence descended upon the pair. Not a bad silence, more like a contemplative silence. After a while, Stan spoke again, "You know, Mason," The elder shifted to face him. "have you ever considered ditching my idiot of a brother and finding adventures and mysteries on your own? I mean, you've been doing this 'apprenticeship' thing for two years now, and Ford hasn't done shi- horseradish, I was going to say horseradish."

"You can swear around me, you know. I'm sixteen." He replied, snickering at the odd replacement for the curse word.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, kid." Stan gave his shoulder a playful punch before resuming his speech, "You're a smart kid, Mason; Sticking around my know-it-all brother is only hindering your progress. Heck, when you were barely thirteen, you defeated that evil triangle demon! Based on that, I'd say you can handle anything fate throws your way. And are more than ready to follow your own path, be your own man. That knucklehead has no right to tell you what you can and cannot do."

Stan stood from the bench, his old bones creaking. He walked over to the other side and picked up the black backpack, holding it out to Mason. "Now, don't you have some adventure to find?"

"But Ford-"

Stan scoffed at the name. "But nothing! I'll keep ol' sixer busy while you're gone. A round of that silly dungeon game should keep him occupied for a few hours. And just- uh, stay safe and all that."

"Thanks, Gruncle Stan." Mason said, smiling at the man. There was a reason Stan was his favorite gruncle.