As Nancy returned to the room, something felt… wrong.
Her eyes fell on the doll resting beside the pile of gifts. For a brief moment, she thought her mind was playing tricks on her—but then she saw it clearly.
The doll blinked.
Nancy froze, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. Slowly, the doll's glassy eyes moved again, as if trying to focus on her. Then its lips trembled—not speaking, but struggling, desperate to say something it could not.
Shaking, Nancy grabbed a sheet of paper and a pencil and placed them on the table beside the doll.
To her horror, the doll's tiny hand began to move.
"Please help me!"
"Where am I?"
"You?"
Nancy's breath caught in her throat. She forced herself to write back, her hands trembling.
"Are you…joyce?"
The pencil stopped.
Then the doll slowly wrote again.
"Are you Nancy?"
The truth struck her like lightning. Nancy staggered backward, tears filling her eyes. Her so-called dead friend—her childhood companion—was trapped inside that lifeless shell, begging for help.
"I'm here," nancy whispered, her voice breaking. "Joyce… how can I help you?"
The moment the question left her lips, the air in the room shifted.
The lights flickered violently. A cold wind swept through the room, slamming doors shut. The doll's eyes glowed unnaturally as dark symbols burned into the air around it. Before Nancy could scream, an invisible force pulled her forward.
The doll fell to the floor.
And in that instant, the forbidden magic was completed.
Joyce's soul tore free from the doll and rushed into nancy's body like a shadow reclaiming flesh. At the same time, Namcy's soul was ripped away—dragged screaming into the hollow shell of the doll.
Nancy collapsed to the ground.
When she slowly opened her eyes, they were no longer nancy.
Across the room, the doll lay still—silent, lifeless—but inside it, nancy screamed, trapped forever in porcelain and cloth.
Joyce stood up, breathing deeply, alive once more.
And she smiled.