Wilson opened his eyes, realizing he couldn't move. His body felt heavy, and he felt like rocks were strapped to his body. Looking around, the room he was in was pitch black. Yet he could see his body clear as day.

A raspy growl caught his attention very quickly. Turning his head towards the noise, he saw something, but it was also black, blending in with the surroundings. It moved towards him, it's body jerking about in unsteady steps. Panicking, Wilson found he could not scream, although he could feel the burning sensation to do so. As the creature approached, he could make out spiky hair jutting into a 'W', and a ripped up scarf dangling about its shoulders.

It was him. No, that's not me! That can't possibly be me! Wilson screamed in his mind, the words confused and frightened. He tried to lash about, no no avail.

The shadow continued its painfully slow approach, blank white eyes opening and glaring down at Wilson. A white slit smile curled onto its face, it's unkempt hair a mirror to Wilson's. It was a mirror, in a way. It was his shadow, the Grue built up inside of him. His greatest desire. His demons.

Wilson knew this. There was a spell in the Cotex that could split someone's mind into pieces. Maxwell must have used it on Wilson.

This was who he wanted to be. An isolated, knowledge outlet, or better yet, a freak. But now, seeing it all as one entity, Wilson wanted to vomit at his stupidity.

Honestly, it was rather disgusting. The way it looked down at its helpless counterpart, eyes sickly white, glowing with hunger. It now stood over him, smile horrid.

...

Wilson woke, but he felt much different. His chest didn't feel cold like it normally did. His headache was gone too. What in Umbra...?

He forced himself to stand, staggering into a tree, wincing. What had happened to him?

He ran his hand through his hair but noticed it now had a peculiar shape. It curved back into a sort of spiral. Confused, he pulled on a strand of his hair and held it up to his eyes. It was completely black in color, not just at his roots.

Panic surged through his body, and he ran over to a nearby flower. Normally, if he touched one, it frosted over, killing it instantly, resulting in a scolding from Winona. But now as he touched the delicate petals, they remained their bright, pastel color.

Reeling away, Wilson looked around, spotting a nearby pond. He ran over to it and looked down at his reflection. Even in the murky water, he could make out black hair and gray eyes, staring back into his soul.