The mansion was too quiet.

Preston Northwest stood in the foyer, hands clasped behind his back, surveying the damage with practiced composure. Cracked marble, crooked chandeliers, dust coating every surface—reminders of a world that had slipped briefly beyond control. Yet above the fireplace, the Northwest crest remained intact. That, at least, was reassuring.

He moved through the halls with measured steps, straightening fallen books and smoothing disorder wherever he found it. Outside, Weirdmageddon’s scars still lingered in the forest. Inside, structure endured. Control endured. A faint smile touched his lips as he adjusted his cuffs. Chaos had come for Gravity Falls. It had not claimed him.

Then he paused.

A shift. A sound. Movement where shadow met light. Preston's gaze narrowed toward the disturbance, calculation already replacing contemplation. The world had changed, certainly—but change created opportunities. New allies. New assets. New pieces to place upon the board.

He straightened, every inch the Northwest heir despite the ruin around him. Whatever had entered his home, it had entered his game.

And Preston Northwest intended to win.