Final Ingredient

The fireplace cracked, sending a burst of embers floating throughout the room. They glowed red for a short while before dimming and going out completely, disappearing into the gloom. Ornate wallpaper ensconced the room, interrupted only by the occasional doorframe which had been stained an ebony hue. In the middle of its interior was only one individual, Dipper Gleeful, sitting casually on a thickly upholstered lounge chair. He was what most would call handsome, with a boyish face, brown, slicked-back hair, and dressed formally, all of which was black minus the dark blue vest and the jeweled oval nestled at the top of his tie. In his hands was a medium-sized book bound in worn leather, the design on the cover depicted a hand with six fingers.

So, the subject needs to be human then, no wonder there wasn't any effect with Will. Dipper closed the book as he continued to think to himself. That means I'll need to find someone else then, as much of a pain as it's going to be. Nothing ever comes easy. Wearily he stood up, clutching the book tightly in his hand. Just as he did so a scream was heard throughout the house, the source of which he was already quite familiar.

So, Mables at it again. She's not going to get anywhere with him. Regardless, I'm sure she'll still keep having fun regardless, even after I tell her what I've learned. Dipper rubbed his eyes, tired from the several hours he'd spent researching a coded spell written in his book. They were part of a collection of notebooks, so far both he and his sister, Mabel, had managed to collect two of them, with the supposed third and final one still eluding their efforts. Even so, the ones in their possession were a veritable treasure trove of information with spells, indexes, maps, and veiled messages scribbled in by their mysterious author.

"Please, no....please!"

Again the cries made their way through the manor's labyrinthian corridors. Dipper sighed, figuring that he had to at least try to convince her, though knowing it was unlikely to do any real good.

—

"Come on, this is nothing, you can handle so much more, so very much more little Will."

"I, I can't, please, just..."

"Just what?"

"Just!"

"Nothing! I summoned you to have fun and that's what we're going to do, got it?"

"Sister, I need to speak with you," Dipper broke in calmly.

Out of all the rooms in the home, this one in particular differed. It was painted white like a surgeon's theater, with various medical and dental tools scattered about on aluminum trays and large, thick, tables. On one of them, strapped down and immobile was Will Cypher, who appeared to be no older than seventeen. In reality, he was a being from another realm entirely, transported by both Mable and Dipper, the gleeful twins. His true age and form were unknown to most, what was known though was that as long as he remained in their world he remained severely weakened, of which the twins took advantage.

Will's current body was pale, thin, and frail with a thick mop of messy blue hair. Mabel had dressed him up as one would a doll by using some of Dipper's clothes which no longer fit, all of which were now covered in blood and showing noticeable damage from various rips and abrasions. Standing over him with a twisted grin and a full syringe in her hand was his sister Mable who then turned her attention to her brother.

"Hmm? What do you want, we're busy right now."

Dipper leaned against the door still clutching the book. His expression was a look of resigned disinterest. "Yes, I can see that." He shrugged. "I just came to tell you that I managed to figure out why nothing we've been trying has yet to work."