At first, the crowd was so dense that Mabel couldn't make out any of the displays. She heard Melody's voice, though: "This, folks, is what you came here to see. The Hall of Mysteries! Full of everything our owner has collected over the years, this gallery — though small — contains paranormal residue, strange talismans, and remnants left behind by magical creatures. Go ahead and look around; I'll explain some of our most amazing artifacts. We'll move as a group through the Museum — but if something catches your eye, feel free to fall behind. We only ask that you don't touch anything, unless it's labelled that you're allowed to touch it. Sound good?" After various murmurs of assent from the group, Melody smiled in approval. "Great, thanks. Now, our first display. . ."

Mabel didn't particularly like being guided through the displays when she could look at them and read their descriptions herself. So she tuned Melody out and drifted across the hall to the first display that caught her eye. Hardened samples of mud sat under clear glass, and each sample had a giant humanoid footprint set into the clay. She knew instantly what it was, even if the large banner overhead hadn't given it away: sasquatch prints.

She wanted to break out into an excited grin, but her fear wouldn't let her. These prints could still very well be fake. She swallowed. Like Dipper had said: At least the Museum was fun to look at. But like she had said: That wouldn't be enough.

The tour group moved slowly through the Hall of Mysteries. There were all sorts of samples on display: more footprints, like the sasquatch display; tufts of hair surrounded by scraps of paper, which gave details on the sample analyses; and entire body parts from mythical creatures, like a jackalope skull or the wing of a vampire bat that enjoyed drinking human blood. One display showed the silhouette of a fairy, trapped and fossilized in a tear-shaped sample of amber (Dipper seemed to love that one). Then, besides the samples, there were theoretical drawings of all sorts of animals, most of them crosses between other normal species. Some of it seemed possible — but all of it seemed improbable, even implausible. Rather than her fears being assuaged, Mabel's worries only grew.

Then the worst happened. Melody led the tour group to a small, clear container of blue goop. "This," she announced, "is our collection of ectoplasm. Ghosts leave this substance whenever they come to visit, and we've gathered it over the years. Right here is a bowl of it. As the sign says, you're welcome to touch it — it won't harm you."

People surged forward to dip their fingers in the bowl of ectoplasm. Mabel recoiled. Did people not realize they were touching something that a million other people had touched? Besides, everyone knew that ectoplasm was more of a greenish-yellow color. With that realization, Mabel's heart sunk. This. . . this probably wasn't real.

Sure enough, Melody hung back and leaned over to the twins. "I came up with that recipe myself," she said with a wink. "People love it. It feels all squishy on your hands."

And that was when Mabel's hopes came crashing down around her.

The excited murmurings of the crowd scraped on her ears, and the walls suddenly seemed to close in on her. Her breathing sped up. It was fake. It was all fake. This Museum was fake. Great Uncle Stanford was a fake.

Just like her parents had said.

"Mabel?" A gentle hand touched her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

No, she wasn't, but she appreciated that Dipper cared. "Let's get out of here," she murmured. If Ford's museum was fake, his lab probably wasn't any more authentic.

"Here, kids, I'll show you the lab now," Melody said. She caught a glimpse of Mabel's face and frowned in concerned. "Mabel? Everything all right?"

Mabel took a deep breath. "Yeah," she lied. She didn't want to go to the lab anymore, but at least Ford would be there. At least she could demand an explanation for all of this.

Melody led the twins to a nondescript door, blending in with the wooden Museum walls. "It's locked on this side, but just knock," she said. "I have to keep leading the tour." She gave the twins a cheery wave and withdrew.

Dipper knocked on the door. "Just because the ectoplasm was fake doesn't mean it's all fake," he assured Mabel. "I mean, you've found real ectoplasm before, right?"

Mabel shrugged half-heartedly. She'd found small puddles that had seemed like ectoplasm at the time, yes. But with the realization that Ford's museum was fake, her brain decided that this was a perfect time to doubt everything she believed about the supernatural.

The door opened, revealing Ford behind it. "Hello again," he said to the twins. "Come on in."

A surprising rush of anger swept through Mabel. It wasn't fair! How could he act so normal, so casual, when he knew everything he stood for was a lie? Maybe he had been so uncertain earlier because he was feeling the guilt of his deceptions.

Dipper pushed her gently into the lab, then followed and closed the door behind him. "Grunkle Ford," he said, mincing no words, "is your museum real or fake?"

Thank goodness he was the one to bring it up. Mabel didn't know if she was calm enough to say anything right now.

Ford blinked. "Well," he said reluctantly, "most of it is fake, it's true. I've learned over the years that people are more interested in fiction than fact."

Mabel's eyes snapped up. Dipper voiced aloud what she was thinking: "Did you just say most of it is fake?"

Ford shrugged uncomfortably. "Yes, very little of it is real. I know it doesn't look good on my scientific reputation to tout fake displays, but I don't get out in the field much these days. And, to be frank, it is amusing to see what kind of things Melody and I can come up with. We've gotten Robbie in on it a bit as well, although his ideas are a bit too frightening for the atmosphere I have in mind."

"Grunkle Ford!" Mabel cut him off and stared at him with wide eyes. "Are you telling me that the supernatural is real?"

He blinked again. "Well, yes. Of course. This forest is home to hundreds of magical species."

All Mabel's hopes rushed back into her body, filling her skull and making her blissfully dizzy. "I knew it!" she cried. "I knew it was real! Right, Dipper? I knew it! Grunkle Ford, what are some of the creatures you've found? Have you had a lot of experiences with ghosts? Ghosts are my favorite — I know all about them — but I've also found evidence for elves and goblins and—"

"Now, that wasn't true evidence," Ford said with a shake of his head. "One thing I learned very quickly, when I began my studies here, is that Gravity Rises is the only area on the planet with supernatural beings."

Mabel's mouth dropped open, then closed, then opened again. "But — but there are ghosts all around! There's this haunted old skating rink, back home in Piedmont, and—"

"Yes, yes," Ford said. "Ghosts are everywhere. They're simply dead humans, so why shouldn't they be around? It's whether you can sense them that varies. This area is definitely the strongest place to contact ghosts, but it sounds like you've had some experiences with them elsewhere."

Mabel furrowed her brow. "Then why did you say—"

"Everything else only exists here. There are creatures that are similar to elves and goblins, for example, although not identical to their mythological counterparts." He tilted his head a bit. "Granted, there are some selkies scattered throughout the world. But, everything else is confined to this forest. The creatures diffused into legend over the centuries and spread across the globe. Fascinating, don't you think?"

Mabel nodded. Her emotions felt frazzled, with all the mixed revelations of the last minute, but her general elation wouldn't allow her mood to drop too far.

She looked around the lab, taking in her surroundings for the first time. "So if the fake stuff is out there, do you keep the real stuff in here? Where is it?" The lab looked a little boring, but surely it couldn't be. Not with all the supernatural things Ford studied in here. That pile of rubbish to the side was probably full of powerful artifacts, and that bulky old computer probably held the secrets of the universe.

"Like I said," Ford answered, "I don't get out into the field much, not anymore. The stuff in here isn't. . . well, it probably isn't interesting to you kids."

"Try me," Mabel said eagerly.

Ford tilted his head with an amused look on his face. "Well, I suppose I'll show you. Recently I've been analyzing the biological functions of the magical flora in the area. See those mushroom samples?" He gestured to a nearby desk, where there rested plastic baggies full of chopped mushrooms. "There are thousands, even millions of species of fungi around the world. Here, in the forest around Gravity Rises, there are even more. I've found almost a hundred different species, but that's only a fraction of what's here. And these are entirely new species: Like the other species here, they haven't been found anywhere else. Some of their properties—"

"Can they turn you into a superhero?" Dipper blurted.

Ford was silent for a moment as he tried to fathom what force had intervened with his speech. "Um, no, they cannot," he said. "But there are some magical—"

"What about shrinking? Can they shrink you?"

"Not that I've found, but—"

"I've always thought it would be cool to shrink," Dipper said. "As long as you can turn big again, of course. And especially if you had wings, like fairies! Hey, Grunkle Ford, are there fairies around here? That fairy frozen in the amber, the one I saw in your museum — that was really cool. Was that one of the real displays?"

Ford's eyes showed the gears in his mind, turning double time to keep up with Dipper's words. Thankfully, Dipper stopped talking long enough for the poor man to answer. "Yes," he said. "That fairy fossil is one of the most beautiful things I have in my museum, wouldn't you say?"

"Definitely!"

So fairies were real. Mabel's excitement, already high, increased another level.

Ford frowned a bit. "You know," he said, almost distractedly, "I don't think the fairies know I have that fossil. They'd probably take it away from me if they did. They're very territorial."

"Can you take us to meet them?" Mabel asked, her eyes shining. She had always loved the idea of small humanoid creatures like fairies and brownies.

Strangely enough, Ford recoiled a bit at her question. "I. . . I did say they were territorial, didn't I?"

"Well, we won't get in their territory, then," Dipper said. "We just wanna meet them! And see some other creatures on the way, right, Mabel?"

Mabel nodded enthusiastically. "Please take us exploring, Grunkle Ford! If all this magical stuff is real, I wanna see it!"

That look from earlier — the vague confusion, guarded by faint hostility — returned to Ford's face. "I don't think. . . ," he began. Then he sighed. "No, kids. It's too dangerous."

Once again, Mabel felt her hopes plummet. "What? But — but Grunkle Ford, I—"

"Remember how I said I stay out of the field these days?" said Ford. "I've been in some nasty situations. I'm your guardian for this trip, and I refuse to send you home to your parents in a box."

Mabel and Dipper glanced at each other. Surely it couldn't be that bad. They'd explored all sorts of creepy places together and had never been hurt (though they had been sorely chastised). "You'd be with us," Dipper pointed out. "You could keep us safe."

Ford let out another sigh. "Some things aren't safe no matter how many precautions you put into place. Exploring this forest can sometimes be one of those things."

Mabel couldn't believe this. She came all the way here; she met Grunkle Ford, the supposed great adventurer; she thought, for a horrifying minute, that the supernatural was fake; then she found out it was real; and now she was being denied the privilege of exploring it? "But — please, Grunkle Ford—!"

"No," Ford said firmly. "There are plenty of things to do without being mobbed by hobgoblins, or any number of nasty creatures. In fact," he added, "while you're here, I want you to help out around the Museum. Cleaning and such."

Now Mabel's ears seemed to be filled with water, for all the sense she could make from Ford's words. "Wh-what?"

"Cleaning," Ford repeated. "Surely you know how to do it? If not, Melody can teach you. She might reteach you anyway; that woman has a strangely particular way that she wants things to be cleaned. Go back out to the Museum and, if she's not busy, ask her what you can do to help, all right? I'll be out for dinner later tonight."

Mabel just stared at him. Dipper, too, was (for once) rendered speechless.

Ford didn't seem to realize the reason behind their shocked and dismayed expressions. "What?" he said. "Go on. If you want to help me analyze the mushrooms in your free time, that'd be fine, but I promise there are more interesting things to do."

"Like explore the forest!" Dipper blurted.

Ford's face closed into a stony wall. "No," he said, "and that's final." He opened the door. "I'll see you later."

He pointed the twins out the door. In a daze, they plodded out to the Hall of Mysteries beyond. Melody and the tour group were gone, and the displays looked eerie without people around to ogle at them.

"What. . . what just happened?" asked Dipper.

Mabel didn't know, and she couldn't bring herself to say even that. She simply stared at her brother, her emotions held back by a wall of paralyzed shock.

The twins went to go find Melody, and she gave them their first cleaning assignment — the first of many, Mabel realized, over a long and boring vacation. It was all she had feared about this trip, except worse: The supernatural was real, it was here, and Mabel was being kept from it.

"Are you okay, Mabel?" asked Melody when she saw Mabel's face.

Mabel forced a smile. "Just. . . just surprised you'd have us do chores here, is all." She didn't like lying, but she also didn't want to share the real reason and then lose control of her emotions — especially in a place as public as the gift shop.

The twins did their chores mechanically; neither one was yet certain how the conversation with Ford had gone so wrong. So much excitement in finding out about the magic here, only for it to be yanked out from under them. They still hadn't gotten their balance back.

Mabel didn't know how long it was that they worked in silence; it made her uncomfortable, considering that Dipper was rarely silent, but she couldn't bring herself to break it.

Finally, they were done, and they trekked back up to the stairs. It wasn't until the attic door was closed behind them that Dipper turned a fiery look on his sister.

"Ford can't do this to us," he declared.

Mabel sat limply on her bed and put her head in her hands. "He's an adult," she mumbled. "Adults always get in the way." She'd thought, though, that this adult would be different.

"Well," Dipper said, "we don't have to let him stop us. You're good at sneaking away, right?"

Slowly, Mabel lifted her head and looked warily at her brother. "What are you saying?"

The determined look in Dipper's eyes only grew. "I'm saying," he said, "that if Grunkle Ford isn't going to take us exploring, then we'll just go exploring ourselves. We can't just sit around and do nothing but cleaning while we're here. This is our winter break."

A customary fear squeezed Mabel's heart, but she squelched it. Dipper was right. Just because Ford didn't want them going exploring did not mean that they just had to sit here twiddling their thumbs.

"You're right," she said. "Let's get out of here."