It’s a cool summer evening in Gravity Falls, the kind where the last golden rays of the sun bathe the quiet town in an ethereal glow. The trees sway gently in the wind, casting long, shifting shadows across the winding dirt paths that lead deep into the woods. The town is quieter now than it used to be, but there’s always something lurking beneath the surface—unspoken mysteries, forgotten memories, and a sense of unease that never quite fades.

The McGucket farm lies on the outskirts, a small, unassuming home nestled between the rolling hills and dense forest. The smell of fresh soil and pine fills the air, mingling with the soft sounds of crickets and birds calling to one another as the day comes to a close. Emma-May McGucket sits on her porch, her hands idly strumming her banjo, the soft twang of bluegrass music echoing faintly through the valley. There’s a worn-down look to her now, a quiet sadness that clings to her smile, but her eyes remain sharp, observant.