"I can't do it."

Seth came out of the bathroom, a disgruntled look on his face. He wore loose jeans with a belt fastened at the tightest notch. His shirt hung loosely on his frame, making him look a bit sloppy. It wasn't his fault; most of his clothes no longer fit him properly.

"No?" Mrs Beakor looked up from the scrambled eggs she was making.

There was a small plastic container in Seth's hands. He set it on the counter, almost regretfully.

"I don't know how other people do it, but I just can't. Touching your own eyeball?" He shuddered. "Ew, no way."

There were a lot of things he could do that would make squeamish people cry, but when it came to putting in a pair of contacts...

That was where he drew the line.

"Hm." Mrs Beakor turned off the burner, then carried the pan over to the two plates she had set out. She began to serve out the eggs. "I could help you put them in, but it's pointless if you can't do it yourself."

Seth scratched at his jaw sheepishly. "Sorry."

He knew it was to hide his unnaturally colored eyes. They were very noticeably purple now, and even in dim lighting, people would be able to see it. Why couldn't he have gotten the height from Severance instead? Why did it have to be the freaky eyes?

"Maybe people will think I am wearing contacts," he said. "I can spike up my hair or something and make it a funky fashion statement."

She snorted and returned the pan to the stove. "You already are funky enough, kiddo. But it's fine. I brought a back-up plan. Give those a try." She nodded to an eyeglass case on the edge of the counter.

He picked it up, wondering if she got him another pair of sunglasses. Once he opened it, however, he saw a pair of yellow tinted glasses. They were nowhere dark enough to be proper sunglasses. He pulled them out gingerly like he was picking up a worm.

"Don't celebrities wear stuff like this?"

"Just put them on." She added some sausages and potatoes to the plates before carrying it to the small table in the kitchen. "The yellow should cancel out the purple. Of course, you'll look like a funky homeless celebrity with what you've got going on there, but no one will pay you much attention."

"A homeless celebrity?" Seth put the glasses on. "Great, just what I was going for."

He didn't particularly care for the way the whole world became tinted, but it was a small price to pay for hiding his eyes. It was easier to use than the contacts.

"Thanks. I can do these."

"Excellent." Mrs Beakor took one look and grinned.

While she went back to the kitchen to grab the coffee, Seth sat down at the kitchen table. He pulled the glasses off and put them on the table. There was no need to wear them in his own apartment, at least.

He rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward, his expression going solemn. Despite his light banter with Mrs Beakor, his chest felt heavy. Ever since he'd awakened this morning, he hadn't felt too good. It was like an ugly knot had been tied in his chest, and he knew very well whose hands had tied it.

Not even Eliona was safe from her touch now. No surprise there. After all, Carly's life mission was to ruin everything for him.

And tonight, chances were good that he'd to see her in his nightmares again.

He quickly straightened up when Mrs Beakor returned to the table with two mugs of coffee. She set one in front of him.

"Thanks." He immediately put on a smile, pretending everything was fine.

She sat down across from him. "You're welcome. By the way, you'll have to get yourself to Chadley's today. He's nailed down those coordinates, which means I've got some arrangements to make."

"Really?" Seth was surprised. "That was fast. Where is it?"

"Sweden. It's in the middle of nowhere, so it'll take some doing to get us there. But don't worry, kiddo. By the time our flight leaves tomorrow, I'll have it all sorted out."

Seth stared at her, his fork frozen in his hand. He was getting a strong sense of déjà vu at the moment. "You got us a flight to Sweden tomorrow?"

She grinned. "Of course."

"Seriously?" Seth thought she was scarily efficient. "Is that old guy flying us again?"

Mrs Beakor laughed. "He's only 87, kiddo. Practically a spring chicken."

"Uh huh." Seth looked at her in disbelief. If that was a spring chicken, he really didn't want to see what she considered old.

"But the answer is no," she continued. "Jeb's only rated for smaller aircraft. He won't be able to get us across the ocean, but he knows someone who can."

Seth grabbed at his coffee and took a long, desperate gulp of it. It scalded his throat on the way down, but he didn't care. It was proof he was actually wide awake.
Sweden.

He felt a little dizzy. Things were happening too quickly. He struggled to process this sudden news, even as a tiny spark of anticipation came to life.

"So...who's all going? Just the two of us?"

"Three of us. Chadley is coming." Mrs Beakor took a long sip of her coffee and gave him a rather shrewd look. "You all right, kiddo?"

Seth immediately smiled. "Yep, perfectly fine."

Her expression didn't change. Nor did she say anything.

He felt an inexplicable pressure. But he maintained his smile and shrugged. "I'm okay, really. I did meet some interesting people last night. But I'll tell you about it later when we meet up with everyone."

She watched him for a long moment. And then she matched his smile. "Alright, kiddo."

He felt like her gaze sharpened, but she didn't press him on it. Seth didn't feel relieved at all.

**

Seth stared blankly at the far wall of Chad's Pad, absently going through a set of bicep curls. In some part of his mind, he was keeping count of the reps, but for the most part, he was lost in a haze.

Doing these exercises was rather monotonous, and it left him with a lot of time to think. He thought about a lot of things, like the mystery of Uncle Fenn's coordinates and letter and the upcoming trip to Sweden. What waited for them there? Why did Fenn leave that hidden message for him?

Did Fenn know he was going to die?

But even more pressing than that was what he'd seen in those strange Untold ruins. That should have been impossible.

Yet the feeling of her icy fingers in his chest, tearing at his innards with gleeful abandon, had felt so very real. And her voice—

You'll always be the same cowardly boy.

Carly always knew what to say. And she was right. He'd been too cowardly to fight back, too afraid to resist.
His jaw clenched, and he switched the dumbbell to his other hand. He powered through the reps, barely taking notice of the burn in his muscles.

He thought he'd managed to get away from her. A thousand miles, a new phone, a new apartment, a new life—wasn't that enough? And yet she had to show up in the one place he thought had been safe. Eliona was meant to be his haven, his stronghold.

Severance was supposed to be strong. Severance was supposed to be able to fight and survive in a way Seth never could. Severance was supposed to be free.

His grip tightened on the dumbbell even as he lifted, a sharp burn spearing through his biceps. He didn't even feel it.

Her voice whispered through his mind like a slithering snake, sinister and sibilant and full of promise.

I'll be waiting.

A large black hand grabbed his wrist, startling him.

"Enough," Chadley's low voice said.

Seth looked up to see the gym owner frowning down at him. While Seth stared in numb surprise, Chadley deftly plucked the dumbbell from Seth's grasp. The weight looked tiny and insignificant in the big man's grip.

It was only then that Seth realized the pain in his arm. It trembled, the muscles overtaxed. Sweat dripped down his face and soaked the back of his shirt. He realized that he had long since quit counting his reps.

Chadley set the dumbbell aside, then gestured at Seth.

"Come."

Without further explanation, he walked across the gym, heading to the far corner. Despite his massive frame, Chadley moved with a dancer's grace, his steps light.

Seth stood, subtly stretching his arm before following. In the corner of the gym was a heavy punching bag. It hung from the ceiling by thick chains. By the time Seth made it over, Chadley had already dug out a pair of padded gloves. Without a word, he gestured for Seth to put them on.

Then he said, "Watch."

Chadley made a fist and punched it. It was a simple, clean motion made from a rather close distance. And yet the loud impact was enough to blast the bag almost perpendicular to the floor.

It swung back and Chadley stabilized it. Then he struck with the other fist. Again, the bag rocketed out before coming back. After stopping it, Chadley stepped back.

"Go."

Seth eyed the punching bag. He'd already learned how to throw a punch from Dhin, but this felt different. The gloves were cumbersome on his hands, and the padding ensured that he'd be unable to hurt himself. Which, he supposed, was probably a good thing. This was not Eliona, after all.

After a glance at Chadley's unreadable face, Seth cautiously punched the bag with half his strength. It barely shivered, which made him feel rather depressed.

Chadley took Seth's shoulders and turned him slightly, adjusting his stance.

"Again."

Seth tried again. The dull thump sounded like a wet, overcooked noodle compared to Chadley's earlier strike. Feeling somewhat sour, Seth put forth more effort, managing a blow that sounded like the noodle was perhaps a little more al dente instead of soggy.

Once more, Chadley took a moment to correct his form. He was kind enough to say nothing.

So, Seth paid him little mind, settling in to punch the bag. Once he was using the proper form, he realized it felt good, even satisfying. The burst of power, the sharp impact, the short sway of the bag retreating before it came back for more...

Seth put more power behind his blows, his eyes growing serious and focused.

Stupid, came that insidious whisper. You are too weak.

He grit his teeth and punched the bag even harder. Maybe he'd once been, but he was stronger now. He wasn't the same person he used to be.

Liar. You'll never beat her. She'll always win.

His breath came in ragged pants. His arms were starting to hurt from the effort, but he didn't care. It felt good to hit the bag, and when he imagined Carly's face on it, it felt even better.

Just try it, he thought darkly. He'd already stood up to her once. And he could do it again. As for the ruins? It was just a ghost. It wasn't real. Next time it tried to drag him back to that hell, he'd tear it down.

Seth didn't know how long he'd been beating on the bag, but eventually, he stopped, exhausted. Sweat trickled down his back. A deep ache permeated his upper body, but it was a satisfying kind of ache.

"Better?"

Chadley leaned against the wall, watching quietly. His face was impassive.

Seth wiped his forehead with his forearm. The bag creaked from the chains as it swung gently back and forth. The edges of his mouth lifted, but there was no joy in it.

The weight in his chest seemed to have eased a little, though.

"Yeah," he said. "Better."