Voices reached out through the darkness, soft and murmuring. They were warm and soothing, like basking in the glow of a crackling fireplace.

Seth listened to them, oddly content. He knew those voices, even though he had trouble understanding what they were talking about. Maybe if he focused, he'd be able to hear them better, but that required more effort than he was willing to spend. He exhaled softly and snuggled into the cozy warmth surrounding him, letting himself drift off into a comfortable doze.

A while later, the scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted over him. He wrinkled his nose, sniffing, and that was all it took. His stomach all but exploded into raging hunger so powerful that it bordered on actual pain.

Seth winced and reluctantly opened his eyes. He didn't recognize his surroundings.

He lay on a pull-out couch in someone's living room. The lights were off, but others were on elsewhere in the area. Enough light spilled over that he could see that this place was tidy, with neutral walls and even more neutral furniture. Across from him was a leather armchair, well worn but maintained in a good condition.

"Have you found anything?"

Seth craned his head back, trying to see. That was Mrs. Beakor's voice. She was nearby, but out of sight.

"No, there's been nothing." And that was Tripp's. "Chadley?"

A grunt was the only answer.

Curious now, Seth pushed himself up onto an elbow so he could peer over the back of the couch. There was a long counter dividing the living area and the kitchen, and on the other side of it, Seth could see that everyone had set up shop around a kitchen table that almost too small to seat four people. Especially when two of these people were almost as big as trucks.

"I knew something was off when the company went dark." There was a definite frown to Tripp's voice. "They're hiding for a reason."

"Speaking of hiding, you saw them, right?" Mrs Beakor's voice was low and Seth had to strain to hear her.

"You mean the-?"

"Yeah. Those. Someone did that to him, and I want to know who."

Seth's belly grumbled ferociously. It was enough to propel him off the couch. He was still in his underwear, with some gauze wrapped around his shins and around both of his hands. One hand hurt significantly more than the other, but he paid little attention. There were bigger things to worry about.

He pulled the blanket around his shoulders and wandered into the kitchen. His arrival was noticed immediately, with Tripp immediately standing, concern written all over his face.

"Seth! How are you feeling?"

Seth glanced at the other people at the table. Both Jake and Chadley appeared stoic and neutral, but he'd learned how to read the minute differences in their expressions. He could tell both were just as worried as Tripp. Mrs. Beakor, on the other hand, just eyed him like she wasn't sure if she wanted to hug him or shake him.

It was touching, how they cared. He let his lips lift a little.
"I'm okay. Kind of hungry, though."

As if to punctuate that remark, his stomach let out an angry growl. It was loud enough for everyone to hear.

Mrs. Beakor lifted both brows.

"Well," she said. "We'll have to do something about that. Sit down, kiddo." She rose from her chair.

He sat and tugged the blanket closer, making sure it covered his legs. Mrs. Beakor rummaged around the kitchen like she owned the place, opening cupboards, drawers, and finally the fridge before she found some eggs and bread.

"Where do you keep your butter, dear?"

"Side of the fridge," Tripp answered. He went to help, and murmured something softly to her that Seth couldn't hear. Not that he was paying much attention to what they were doing.

Instead, he eyed the mug of coffee she left at her spot. It was half full and steaming. It looked awfully delicious.

Without thinking about it, he asked, "Can I have your coffee?"

Mrs. Beakor gave a careless wave. "Go ahead. Tripp, make some more, will you?"

Seth reached out with both bandaged hands, curled tingling fingers around the mug, and carefully lifted. The coffee was hot, but not so hot that he couldn't gulp it down in seconds. He returned it to the table with a heavy sigh

Already he felt less groggy. And the annoying, persistent ache in his head had faded to much more bearable levels. Coffee was magical stuff. The more he had of it, the more he appreciated it.

"So..." he awkwardly said. Chadley was typing on his computer yet again (was he secretly working on a novel when no one was looking?), but Jake was watching him closely. "What's going on?"

"We're hoping you can tell us, kiddo." Mrs. Beakor brought him a plate with a sliced apple and cheese. She also refilled the mug with coffee. "Start with that."

She'd no sooner set the plate down than his face had gotten stuffed with apples, to the point where chewing was difficult. He didn't even remember picking up the food. "O hu a een."

Tripp turned, leaned a hip against the counter, and regarded Seth seriously. Gone was the usual humor in his eyes.

"You dropped a pot of hot coffee on yourself, Seth. You were burned pretty badly."

Yeah, Seth remembered that. He nodded, pausing only to bite into a piece of cheese. It complemented the sweetness of the apple in a way that made his taste buds sing for joy.

"And then you healed yourself," Tripp stated. His gaze didn't waiver even the tiniest bit.

Jake cleared his throat. "Partly."

"Partly," Tripp amended. "After that, you fainted. Want to tell us what's happening?"

"I healed?"

Seth went still. He looked at his hands, as bandaged as they were. He could feel the hurt there, sharp and constant. One was worse and felt stiffer when he flexed his fingers. It hadn't just been his hands, either. He remembered hot liquid splashing against his torso and splattering against his jeans. It felt like a very mild form of getting doused by K-792's flamethrowers.

Seth touched his stomach. The skin was a bit sensitive, maybe a bit raw even, but here was no burn there any longer. Just as if he were in Eliona and he'd cast a Mend on his wounds. He remembered saying something about the skill, but he hadn't thought he'd actually–

His eyes grew wide. "That's... that actually worked?"

The silence from the table was answer enough.

Seth reeled in disbelief. No. That couldn't be possible. He wasn't in Eliona. He wasn't using a System-generated avatar. But then Awesome Dude's words flew to the forefront of his mind. About getting better at digging holes in real life. About rumors of players being able to use skills they'd learned from Eliona. He hadn't taken it too seriously at the time because of how silly it sounded.

But... if he thought about it, it really wasn't much of a stretch. Not when he possessed the Veiled mastery of Flow in his own body on Earth.

"This is crazy," he muttered.

He stared at his hands. It dawned on them that there really was only one way to test this out, to prove that it truly wasn't possible. That maybe the burn on his stomach wasn't as bad as anyone thought, and it had more or less healed while he slept.

"Seth-" Tripp began, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by Seth shaking his head.

"Hold on. Let me try this." And before anyone could say it was a dumb idea, he covered his less injured hand with the other. He didn't have his war fans to channel the skill, since this was, well, Earth. But he had to know.

"Mend," he whispered.

And then his breath was taken away as a strange wave of heat ripped through him. It left a vacuum in its wake, an empty cold that made him shiver and slump forward onto the table. White spots danced before his eyes, the room going dim, but not totally dark.

He heard voices, exclamations, the sounds of chairs being shoved back. And then hands where on him, lifting him up, propping him back against the chair, and then holding them there because he lacked the strength to even sit upright on his own.

He blinked slowly. "Huh?"

"Seth!" Fingers snapped in front of his face, startling him. It took real effort to move his attention upwards to a face with sharp angles and even sharper eyes. A halo of wiry gray floated around it. It looked kind of funny, so he sort of smiled, but then he remembered last second that laughing at someone's face was rude.

"'M okay," he mumbled. His stomach gurgled, reminding him of an important fact. "Hungry."

"He needs to eat," Mrs. Beakor spoke above him. "Something with sugar. Tripp, do you have juice or-"

"I got it." A moment later, dishes clattered somewhere nearby.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Beakor remained where she was.

"Seth," she said, and there was solid steel in her voice. It demanded his attention, so he gave it, watching her closely. "Don't ever do that again. Got it?"

He nodded, head wobbling on a neck made of jelly. He felt a little like he was floating. His stomach growled, loud enough to drown out a train.

Tripp brought a plate of eggs and toast heavily slathered with jam, and Seth ate. He ate like a man who hadn't eaten in three days. And then he ate some more.

A while later, he felt like an actual human again. He still felt a little lightheaded, but the fog was gone from his brain and he was able to sit up under his own power. He eyed the four adults watching him, feeling increasingly self conscious.

After all, he sat in someone's kitchen wearing only his underwear and a blanket, and he'd just wolfed down four plates of food like a ravenous beast. Oh, and he'd somehow managed to do the impossible by healing a burn with nothing but a skill from a video game.

"Well," he gave an awkward laugh. "I guess I'm a real healer now."

***

11:22 pm

Seth unlocked the door to his apartment and went inside. He tossed his keys on the kitchen counter before kicking off his shoes. The lights came on, but he hadn't been the one to flick the switch.

"Well." The dry voice came from Mrs. Beakor. Not only had she driven him back from Tripp's place, but she'd also followed him home like a stray dog.

Seth rolled his eyes. "Well, what?"

"Nothing." She looked around, both hands on her hips. It was clear she had some thoughts, but she wasn't saying them. Seth figured it was some insult about his apartment, which, to be fair, would be somewhat warranted: cleaning wasn't his forte. Neither was decorating.

"Whatever. I'm going to go log in." With a casual wave, he headed for his bedroom.

To his displeasure, she followed. "How long you going for?"

"I'll try to keep it to five hours."

That had been one of the things they'd talked about at Tripp's place. Not only was he to try and limit his time in Eliona, but someone was also to stay with him while he did so. Mrs. Beakor had volunteered, considering she was his neighbor and regularly broke in anyway. He wasn't exactly thrilled about either of those things, but he wasn't in a position to argue. Not after he'd nearly killed himself doing the impossible.

There was one more requirement, one that made him a little uneasy, but they'd insisted on it. Actually, Chadley had insisted on it. Starting tomorrow, he and Seth would work on a daily 'report' of everything both of them experienced in Eliona. That sounded like a good plan, but Seth was getting the feeling there was more to it. Especially since Chadley hadn't brought up the raids they'd run together. He was keeping oddly silent on that, and it was making Seth worried.

He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. They felt tender, the movement a little stiff, but he couldn't tell just by looking that they had been severely scalded not that long ago. It boggled the mind. How could this even happen?

"I'm going to have to talk to Olen about this," he muttered.

He went through the dark doorway of his room and navigated to the bed by memory. There was a pile of dirty clothes in the middle of the floor that he had to go around, followed by an aluminum container that had once housed delicious lasagna. Both things had been sitting there for a while.

"Please do." Mrs. Beakor flicked the light switch behind him. She gave a low whistle. "Wow, kiddo. This is something special."

Squinting against the sudden assault of light, Seth sat on his bed and looked around. Okay fine, he was a little behind on his laundry. So what?

"You're the one who wanted to come here," he retorted.

She snorted. "Don't worry. I've seen worse."

Was that supposed to make him feel better? Or insult him? He wasn't sure which. Either way, he wasn't going to dignify that with a response. Seth flopped back onto his bed, and fumbled about for the headset. It was near the pillow, right where he left it this morning.

"Hold on," Mrs. Beakor said. "Before you jump in, there's something we need to discuss."

He sighed and turned his head towards her. "What?"

"Two things." She sat on the edge of his bed, the mattress dipping beneath her weight, and regarded him seriously. "First, I know we went over this before, but Seth, I don't want you trying to use your Eliona abilities on Earth. Not just because it affects you badly, but also because you don't want to draw the wrong kind of attention. Get what I mean?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I get it. If people find out, I'll probably end up as a lab experiment or something."

"Exactly. Or worse." She patted his wrist. "So don't even talk about it, not even to your little gamer friends. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Good. And the second thing: Tell Mouna I said hi."

Severance snorted. He was becoming used to her silly comments, because he didn't even feel embarrassed this time.

"Yeah, sure."

He slid the dark frames over his eyes, and felt the little nubs rest against his temples. Just before he faded into Severance, he heard her reply. It made him smile.

"Any time, kiddo."