The moon bathed the castle in an eerie light as the wind wailed through the walls. Denmark, standing alone, could only look on as his friends' eyes glowed a demonic red.

His heart pounded against his chest, his breaths coming out in panicked gasps. He turned to look at Finland, his expression frozen in terror.

Fear gripped him like an icy hand as he saw the possessed men moving towards them. Denmark pulled Finland and started to run.

They reached the dense forest. Denmark could hear the heavy footfalls of their possessed friends echoing in the silent night.

Suddenly, Finland screamed. Denmark turned to see him transfixed by the eyes of the possessed Norway and Iceland.

Denmark's mind raced, but all thoughts of salvage and escape seemed futile. How could he fight his own friends?

Suddenly, a glimmer of hope struck him. "They're not my friends. They're possessed!" Denmark thought as he faced his attackers.

Denmark took a deep breath and turned to Finland. "You run. I'll hold them off," he ordered, pushing him towards the forest.

As Finland ran, Denmark braced himself. The figures of Norway and Iceland approached him, their red eyes glowing in the dark.

He lunged at them, not to fight, but to free them. Even if he had to face the demonic spirits himself, he’d save his friends.

His fingers brushed against their skin. For a moment he felt a jolt. Their eyes flickered, the demonic red lessened, but then it returned.

Denmark didn't falter. He knew he was getting through. He just had to hold onto them. He had to make them remember.

"Remember who you are!" he pleaded. His voice echoed around them, breaking through the silence. But the demons didn't relent.

Suddenly, Denmark was thrown back. He hit the ground hard. Breathing heavily, he looked up to see the red-eyed figures approaching him again.

He stood, wiping the blood from his lip. He was beaten, hurt, but he wouldn’t give up. Not until he had saved his friends.

With renewed determination, Denmark charged at the possessed men again. He had to get through to them. He had to break their possession.

He reached out to them, pleading, fighting, and then he felt it. A small spark, a flicker of recognition in their eyes.

The demonic red started to fade. Norway staggered back, clutching his head. Denmark moved onto Iceland, pleading for him to remember.

And then, like a miracle, Iceland's red eyes faded. Norway and Iceland were back. Denmark felt a relief wash over him.

But he knew he couldn’t rest. Sweden was still possessed. Denmark turned to face him, determined to bring his last friend back.

As Denmark approached, Sweden’s demonic red eyes flashed. He lunged towards Denmark. But this time, Denmark was ready.

He stood his ground, letting Sweden charge at him. Then at the last possible moment, Denmark spun around and grabbed Sweden's arm.

Denmark pleaded with Sweden to remember. He could feel the demonic spirit fighting against him. But Denmark held on, pleading, and begging.

Then, he saw it. A flicker of recognition in Sweden's eyes. The red started to dissipate. Denmark gritted his teeth and held on.

With one final shout, Denmark broke the possession. Sweden staggered back, the red completely gone from his eyes. Denmark had done it. He had saved his friends.

Denmark, weary but victorious, stood amongst his friends. The demonic spirits were gone. The moonlight no longer seemed eerie but rather comforting.