The moment Zeke took a bite of the turkey, he was transported back to his childhood. His life hadn’t always been devoid of familial joy, and he had plenty of pleasant memories from before Tommy had gotten really sick. A few of those came from family meals not unlike the one he now experienced.

  Sure, everything was wrong about it. His mother was unrecognizably happy, his father lacked the bitterness he’d always worn like a mantle, and his brother showed no signs of his battle against the illness that would one day threaten his life. Even his uncle looked well-rested and successful.

  And then there was the food.

  In the past, when Zeke had eaten turkey, he’d always found it a little dry. On Earth, he’d much preferred ham as a holiday meal. Yet, this version was moist and succulent and bursting with so much flavor that he very nearly let out a moan of pleasure when the taste hit his tongue.

  The rest of the meal followed suit, and it was helped along by the atmosphere. Everyone there was so happy. They genuinely seemed to enjoy one another’s company. Even his father – the dour, angry man who’d made Zeke’s life hell – actually smiled and laughed just like a normal, content person.

  Zeke knew it wasn’t real.

  He felt it in his very bones. And yet, the situation was so enticing that he almost didn’t care. He certainly didn’t even notice that, no matter how much they ate, the amount of food on the table never really diminished.

  His mother kept patting him on the forearm and saying, “There’s always room for seconds!”

  So, he kept eating.

  Even as he felt his stomach expanding and his mind turning to mush, he continued to laugh at his uncle’s mildly off-color jokes, bask in his father’s positive attention, and embrace his mother’s happy attitude. It was infectious and more distracting than anything he’d experienced in the Plains of the Forgotten or the Tempest, and yet, he didn’t care. Because for the first time – perhaps ever – he was happy.

  His family was no longer the dysfunctional group it had always been. And the food – it was a social lubricant meant to make it all work together flawlessly. Zeke fell victim to it, sinking ever deeper into the morass of contentment with every bite, with every chuckle. With ever smile at his mother.

  But above it all stood Tommy’s attitude. The most telling was his laugh. There was no more struggle. No more tightening around his eyes at the pain. He didn’t wince at every sudden movement. Nor were his gestures so careful. He didn’t look like one wrong move would break him into a million pieces. Instead, he was happy, healthy, and confident.

  Zeke couldn’t help but like that version – as opposed to the sick and doomed one he’d always known – better than the one in his memories.

  He knew it wasn’t real.

  But what if it was?

  What if everything else he’d experienced had been a bad dream? He looked down, and he saw that his clothes had changed. No longer was he half-clothed in nothing but scraps. Instead, he wore a collared shirt and slacks. He even had loafers on his feet.

  His hand crept up to his head, finding that his hair was freshly cut, and his jaw felt cleanly shaven.

  “What’s wrong?” asked his mother, once again patting his forearm.

  “Uh…nothing. I just…I just have this weird thought that none of this is real.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said with a laugh. Then, she reached out for the serving spoon and plopped another helping of dumplings on his plate. “Eat up. We don’t want you wasting away!”

  Zeke couldn’t resist the smell, and he dug in, those odd notions fading from his mind. After a while, he found that he was entirely fully – he didn’t think he could eat another bite – but he couldn’t stop himself from getting seconds. And thirds. Fourths and fifths. On and on it went until he was writhing in pain, ready to burst. Yet still, he kept going.

  Everyone around him continued to laugh and make small talk that they never would’ve engaged in in the past. But as odd as that was, Zeke couldn’t stop himself from letting the feeling of camaraderie wash over him. It was so comforting, even amidst the pain of overindulgence.

  And then, suddenly, he felt something stirring inside of him.

  At first, it was only a tiny spark of energy – like a jolt of caffeine in the morning – but it gave him just enough of an opening to latch onto more. Desperately, he clung to that thin thread of energy as he struggled to remember why his need was so urgent. After all, he only had to sit there and enjoy the meal, and happiness would follow. Didn’t he deserve a little contentment? Good food and the love of his family?

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Even though he wanted nothing more than to give in, he latched onto what he suddenly recognized as the tendril of divine energy leaking from his core. The moment he did, his mother stopped mid-laugh and turned to him.

  “What’s wrong? Why are you not happy?” she asked, her voice suddenly one of accusation. “Isn’t this what you want?”

  “Everyone needs family, son.”

  “You don’t want me to be sick again, do you?” asked his brother.

  His uncle glared at him and said, “I am so disappointed in you. We could have all been happy. We should have been content. I thought I taught you better than that.”

  Zeke felt his determination wither under their accusatory stares. Yet, it was bolstered by the divine energy within. He grabbed ahold of it with every ounce of mettle he could muster, and, using the technique he’d already started to train, he looped it through his body.

  It hurt.

  More than anything, it felt like his soul was being sandblasted. But it worked. The second he embraced that energy, the scene before him flickered. It quickly reasserted itself, but his family soon started to panic.

  “If not this, then what about another family?” his mother asked, once again flickering.

  Suddenly, he was sitting next to a campfire in a forest. His family from Earth was gone, replaced by arguably more familiar people. Abby was there. So were Talia and Tucker. Pudge too, though he’d reverted to his dire bear state.

  “This is the last time you were truly happy, wasn’t it?” asked Abby, handing him a skewer of sizzling meat. It looked like pork, but Zeke couldn’t really identify it. Behind Abby, a modest cottage stood. It was the first iteration of the Crimson Tower. A small but sturdy structure where they could sleep. “No responsibilities to millions of kobolds. No gods looking to kill you. Just us and adventure. Good, simple food. A life unbeholden to anyone else. Don’t you want to go back? Isn’t this what you truly want?”

  It was.

  Zeke hadn’t realized it until that moment, but it was true. He was happiest when he was still back in the Mortal Realm, just living his life, fighting monsters, and trying his best to satisfy the requirements of difficult quests.

  His divine energy pulsed again.

  The scene flickered.

  “Just let it go, Zeke,” Talia said.

  “Yeah – you don’t have to resist,” Tucker added. “This is the heaven you want. Eat. Be content.” To punctuate that, the big alchemist took a bite of one of the skewers. Grease dripped down his chin, staining his beard.

  Even Pudge looked up, fixing him with a wide-eyed expression that should’ve never found its way onto a bear’s face. It conveyed one thing – stay.

  “We can be happy. We can eat to our heart’s content. Don’t you want that?” asked Abby, scooting closer.

  The divine energy writhed within him, and the scene once again flickered. Briefly, Zeke saw behind the proverbial curtain, and when he did, he found himself reeling in disgust.

  Nothing was what it seemed.

  Even as everything returned to what seemed like normalcy, Zeke couldn’t forget what he had just seen.

  None of his friends were really his friends. Instead, they were skinless monsters with too-thin arms and legs, grotesquely bulging stomachs, and lamprey-like mouths. They were gooey and gross, and in all the worst ways.

  What’s more, he had seen the environment as well, and it was no better. Everything was fleshy and covered in blood. Small parasites feasted on the rolling hills, and huge monsters roamed the landscape, scooping up anything they could find. There was no vegetation. Nothing that didn’t look like bloody flesh.

  But the most disturbing sight was that the skewers Abby offered him were just hunks of raw meat, crawling with tiny parasites that seemed eager to eat him from the inside out. It didn’t take a leap of intuition to guess that his Thanksgiving feast had been comprised of just such fare.

  He vomited, and when he did, he briefly saw the same writhing pests swimming in his pool of sick.

  But worst of all, he still wanted to eat it.

  More than just about anything else he’d felt in his life, he wanted to pick up each individual parasite and savor it like a grape. The only thing stopping him was the divine energy arcing through his body, and even that wasn’t really enough to fully stave off the sheer, overwhelming hunger coursing through him. It infected his mind and body, twisting his stomach into cramps as images of his favorite foods raced through his thoughts.

  The monster pretending to be Abby spoke again.

  But Zeke refused to listen. Instead, he focused not on the hunger, but on the thin thread of hope extended to him by the divine energy. It responded to his call, wrapping around his body and leaving devastation in its wake. His muscles withered, only to be remade by [Hand of Divinity], only to dissipate again.

  It was a vicious cycle filled with agony.

  And yet, that pain was probably what saved him. With that occupying a good portion of his mind, he couldn’t focus on how much he wanted to continue eating. On how much he truly desired his friends’ companionships. He knew it wasn’t them, but in his addled state, he couldn’t force himself to care.

  He needed them.

  And they needed him, too.

  Maybe that was what made it all work so flawlessly as a distraction from the true danger. It was a much simpler pleasure than what he’d experienced in the Tempest, and yet, it was more powerful for the lack of complexity.

  Zeke focused on the divine energy, doing everything he could to control it. It bucked and writhed, always wanting to do what it wanted rather than follow his commands. But still, he kept it up, and slowly, his efforts bore fruit.

  The flickers between reality and the illusion became longer, which only served to heighten the disconnect he felt. It was especially disconcerting when Zeke heard Abby’s voice coming from a one of the monsters’ lamprey-like mouths. Its orifice didn’t actually move with the uttered words, which made it even worse.

  It was like the sounds were just beamed right into his ears, emanating from nothing at all. Beneath the voice, Zeke could hear faint squishing and the grinding of the thing’s shark-like teeth.

  He shuddered.

  And then, just as he felt like he was making real progress, the things all stood at once and faced him.

  “He resists,” one said.

  “He is strong,” another stated.

  “He is food.”

  Then, all at once, they intoned, “We hunger.”

  That was the last thing Zeke heard before they darted toward him, the illusion forgotten. Their spell broken, Zeke was free to see the landscape as it was, and as disgusting as the sight might have been, he was grateful for it.

  Because at last, he was free of its influence. With divine energy coursing through him, he reacted to their charge the only way he knew how – with unmitigated violence.