As the patients debated their course of action, the darkness around them deepened, the moonlight seeping through the windows with less and less strength. Even the glimmering light of fire from the other end of the room seemed to fade with time, each minute seeming to pull it further away, making it dimmer, separating the living breathing humans from one another.

Behind Hakkai and Gren, the force that had pushed the door shut had vanished -- closer inspection would show nothing but a door they could not pull open.

But deserving of closer inspection still was Gren: for between his dark hair drifted hair still darker, pitch-black and not of his own. It lengthened slowly, brushing down his shoulders to his back and lower still.