You and Betty find the portal in the most Riverdale way possible:

In the old Blue & Gold archives.

A hidden door behind a bookshelf. Dusty boxes. A strange hum like electricity trapped in paper.

Betty’s fingers brush the edge of a crate and she freezes.

“Do you feel that?” she whispers.

You nod. The air is colder here, and the light seems… wrong. Like it’s been filtered through water.

Betty pushes the door open.

A thin ribbon of swirling light spills out. It looks like a tear in the world.

Betty stares at it, eyes wide. “We shouldn’t.”

But she’s already stepping forward.

You follow, because you never learned to say no when Betty’s curiosity turns into danger.

The moment you step through, everything changes.

The hallway isn’t the Blue & Gold anymore.

It’s still Riverdale—but the colors are too bright, the air too clean, the silence too complete.

The town looks like a postcard.

Betty turns to you, whispering, “This is… not our Riverdale.”

You nod. “It’s like a dream version.”

She frowns. “A dream Riverdale where nothing is wrong.”

You both walk down the familiar street, but the details feel off.

The diner is pristine. Everyone smiles too widely. Even the trees look staged.

Then you see the biggest difference.

No Jughead.

No Veronica.

No dark shadows hiding under the town’s surface.

Betty’s shoulders tense. “Where is everyone?”

A voice calls out from behind you.

“Betty Cooper?”

You both spin around.

A girl stands there with long blonde hair and a friendly smile. Her face is familiar but… different. She’s not the Betty you know.

She’s Betty’s version—but softer, lighter, like she’s never had to carry the weight of secrets.

“Hi,” she says, cheerful. “You must be new. I’m Betty.”

The Betty you know swallows.

“That’s not possible,” she whispers. “That’s not… me.”

The alternate Betty tilts her head. “Oh, come on. You look exactly like me.”

Betty’s jaw tightens. “What is this place?”

The alternate Betty laughs, like it’s a joke. “It’s Riverdale, of course. We don’t have to fight. We don’t have to hide. Everything’s perfect.”

Your skin prickles.

Perfect isn’t a word Riverdale deserves.

Betty’s voice goes cold. “You’re lying.”

The alternate Betty’s smile falters for half a second—just enough to show she’s not as innocent as she seems.

Then she’s smiling again.

“Do you want to stay?” she asks, too sweet. “You can. You can have a normal life here.”

Betty steps in front of you like she’s protecting you from a storm.

“No,” she says, firm. “We’re leaving.”

The alternate Betty’s smile sharpens.

“Leaving isn’t easy,” she says. “Not here.”

And then the world tilts.

The sky darkens. The colors fade. The clean streets twist into shadows.

You hear the hum again—the portal calling.

Betty grabs your hand.

“Run,” she whispers.