Save him. You have to.

For a brief moment, she felt confined to her room. She wasn't necessarily claustrophobic, but even the simplest thought of staying here sent her into a panic. She had to find him before it was too late. As long as he didn't turn into some sort of shadow demon by then, everything would be fine. That's what happy endings were, right? And she wasn't going to let this happy ending be nothing more than a worthless bygone. She would save him. No matter what.

"H-Hello? Is that you?"

But it turned out she didn't even need to move before she managed to find him. Her own best friend was there, still holding the journal, even though by now it looked badly affected with wear and tear. He wasn't looking so hot himself, parts of his body fading to black on occasion as he was surrounded with a smoky field, looking frightened, yet also...accepting. Accepting what? Was her bad dream about to come true? If so, the happy ending was over before it even began. Both of them would be done for. And she didn't want that to happen.

"Wilfre...please," she meekly cried out, "throw that book away. You don't need it." Did she think it would convince him? At this point, most likely not—but it wouldn't hurt to try. Soon after, she stood up, her expression still remaining a mix of concern and faint hope. Would hope even be enough in this situation?

"I can't."

It wouldn't.

"Wilfre, what are you talking about? It's...It's not like that journal's glued to your hand or anything!" she told him, earning only an exasperated sigh in response.

"Look, Circi. It's not that easy." As soon as he said those words, the dark smoke of nothingness only grew more intense. She knew she couldn't do anything to stop the smoke. All she could do was watch...and, well, try to beg for him to come back to his senses. If even trying would do anything. At this point, listening to everything he wanted to say would be the best thing to do...hopefully.

"I have tried multiple times to resist the shadows' influence. Those attempts have all ended in failure. What point is there in trying again?"

"But I know you'll break free eventually! Remember that promise we made? That I'd help you, no matter what?" She knew she was full of despair, but that didn't mean he had to. But that statement only made the smoke grow darker still, soon encompassing the entire room.

"Circi...some problems can't be helped."

No. No. She had enough of this. There was no way something like this could happen to her own friend. Disregarding the promise they made? He would never! And, darkness or not, she was going to teach him a lesson about disregarding promises.

"So what!? It doesn't matter! I'm not going back on my promise, and neither should you. Do you get what I'm saying? I. Will. HE—"

The shadows were more suffocating than she thought. She was completely immobile, all her visible lines of movement being locked by darkness. The only thing she could see was her own friend, his body being covered even more by the shadows. One part of him looked fearful—the other, apathetic. He was conflicted as always, but she still knew that to both of them...this would be an uphill battle.

"You should be a better listener. I don't suppose you should be the one to get what I'm saying, right? It can't be helped—and it's as simple as that." His tone was slowly turning into poison, becoming more and more of a discomfort. She hated it: but at the same time, she needed to hear it more.

"I...I know t-that's not really y-you...that d-damned journal is m-manipulating...you…" is all she could muster, choking on the shadow's unrelenting grasp. She briefly wondered if this was a dream in a dream, or perhaps her punishment for being so stupid to think she could convince him different. Oh, well. No time for an inner analysis of the mind when a soon-to-be shadow demon's about to rip you a new one.

But he didn't.

He just...stood there. She noticed he wasn't covered entirely in the shadows—yet. His partial expression of fear suddenly turned to calmness, and he seemed to be staring at some things that, in her view, were completely obscured by nonsensical shadows. Was he seeing things? Had he finally gone mad? And, most importantly...had she failed?

"P-Please...Wilfre, I k-know you wouldn't...w-want this to h-happen…"

There was no response. For what seemed like an eternity, there was nothing more, and nothing less, than the endless void of silence.

Something wasn't right.

Soon enough, he started to emit a vibrant, discordant noise that sounded like a mix of a pained screech and the crushing of liquids (whatever that meant), as he could do nothing but desperately try to block the sounds coming everywhere at once, to no avail. Almost as if on cue, she started to scream as well, nearly managing to break free from the shadowy chains containing her body. The smoke morphed itself into claws, drawing themselves to the screeching boy inch by inch.

"Circi, please…! You're right—I didn't want this to happen! Please, help…!"

She wanted to help, but she knew she couldn't. No matter how much her agonized cries reached him, she knew there was nothing she could do to save them. She wasn't a hero—instead, nothing more than a damsel in distress, always crying out for the true hero to save her and give her the happy ending she wanted—but deserved? It was a hard pill to swallow, but she always knew she had to take her medicine.

"Wilfre...

"...I'm so, so, sorry."

The claws engulfed him.

She cried for him one last time.

The smoke became blinding.

Static screeching filled the air.

And then there was silence.

From that silence, she knew her friend was no more…

"...than a mere shadow of his former self."