“You don’t get it Oliver,” Chris said with a lowered voice. “Something was wrong with him. It was like he was experiencing the blood madness.”

Jason frowned but kept walking. He had built up a trickle of mana in his core now and his body wasn’t as fatigued as before. They had since begun their journey back out of the forest and had been walking for over an hour now. Festus carried Zed’s unconscious body at the front with the Olympian called Daniel, and had said nothing since their journey began.

They had expected at least a few monsters to stand in their way. While the monsters were present, they were few, and they were weak. None dared to venture close to the group of mages. If Jason was to take a guess, he would say that the monsters of any significant rank were headed in the opposite direction, headed towards Big Man Desolate and the piece of mana surge core in his possession. They would be a lot of them, however, Jason just couldn’t picture any of the monsters defeating Big Man Desolate.

There was just something about a death mage that instilled a confident fear. Also, Big Man Desolate hadn’t even been the slightest bit afraid of the Bishop rank monster they had fought.

We don’t even know his rank, Jason realized.

“Are you listening?” Chris asked, pulling his attention from his mind. Around them the others continued on their procession. The only Rukh rank mage that was yet to walk on her own was Madam Shaggy.

She continued to rest her weight on Tulip.

“Chris,” Oliver said, interrupting her.

“Yes, Ollie,” Chris answered.

Oliver hesitated. For a moment it seemed as if he wanted to say something different from whatever he had called Chris for. It was a brief moment, a short lapse of a second. Regardless, it was long enough to note the tension that crossed Chris’ face.

Oliver sighed with profound restraint. “Have you ever seen a blood maddened mage before?”

Chris looked down and away. “No.”

“Well, Ash and I have.”

“Yes,” Ash said. “Zed might have seemed blood maddened but he didn’t act blood maddened.”

“And where did you guys get the chance to see a blood maddened mage?” Jason asked, curious.

“A long time ago,” Oliver shrugged, dismissing the worry in Jason’s voice.

“What Ollie is trying to say,” Ash continued, “is that blood maddened mages that pick out an enemy. Once a mage is blood maddened everyone is their enemy, but Zed only went after Abed. That was way too much concentration for someone that’s blood maddened.”

“Perhaps his version of blood madness is different,” Chris shrugged. “He’s always been different.”

“Also,” Ash added. “He didn’t cast any spellform. Even blood madness is the byproduct of a spellform. Zed cast none. Personally, I’m beginning to think that wasn’t blood madness.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Chris asked, flabbergasted. “You felt the blood aura. You felt his aura. There’s no way you’re going to stand there and argue it wasn’t blood magic.”

“No,” Ash shook her head. “I’m not saying it wasn’t blood magic. I’m saying it wasn’t blood madness.”

“Then what would you call it?”

Ash said nothing. Neither did Oliver. They had nothing to call it. It had displayed the characteristics of blood madness but not all of them. Was the lack of other characteristics enough for it to not be called blood madness?

“Chris,” Jason said, finally adding his voice to the conversation.

“I know you’re going to take their side, Jason, but just think about it for a moment. Every time he fights, he always does his best to make sure there’s as much blood as possible. Then he takes attacks without flinching and heals them like he’s a mage healing a paper cut. If we think about it, blood magic would explain all of that. If he draws mana from the blood of him and the monsters, then that would explain why he heals so fast and why he fights that way. We already know he heals too quickly for a mage. Regeneration attribute be damned.”

“Maybe,” Jason said, tired. “But the question is this; if you believe he’s a blood mage so badly, what do you want us to do about it? You’ve already been wrong once about him knowing where the mana surge was. Would you like to be wrong about this one, too?”

“I wasn’t wrong about him knowing of the mana surge,” she refused. “I just didn’t get to prove it.”

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Chris paused, then frowned. “I know what’s going on here,” she said. “You’re all scared.”

Eitri hobbled up to them now, walking with tired, short legs.

“And rightfully so,” he said. “Fear is the sign of an intelligent mage.”

Chris looked down at Eitri before ignoring him. She returned her attention to her team. Her eyes moved between each of them purposefully. Ash wore a blank expression. Oliver looked angry at her. Jason looked chastised at being accused of fear.

She was right, they were scared.

“Ha!” Eitri barked a short amused laugh. “And you aren’t? C’mon girl, you’re terrified. That’s why you’re peddling your idea to these lot instead of the person it really matters to.”

“Wasn’t talking to you,” Chris scowled. “Go back to your gang and stay there.”

Eitri shrugged. “Got no gang, missy. In fact, I’m thinking of leaving Hillview.”

Oliver looked down at Eitri in shock.

“Why?” he asked.

Eitri shrugged again. “I guess you could say I’m just tired of all the power struggle. I’m getting nothing out of it but headaches and stress. Perhaps it’s time for the little king to retire.”

“And do what?”

Everyone turned to look at Madam Shaggy. Chris didn’t remember the lady being so close. Beside her Tulip looked like he was already tired. Chris had heard that most of the mages had gone into Overdrive to defeat the Bishop rank monsters they’d met beyond the Hedge and knew Tulip had not been one of them. He was a Rukh mage but he was too young to have perfected his Overdrive.

There were a few choice words for Madam Shaggy but Oliver beat all of them to saying anything.

“Eaves dropping much?” he asked calmly.

Madam Shaggy reeled back in surprise, as if physically struck.

“That seemed kind of harsh,” she said. “Or am I assuming things?”

Oliver opened his mouth to say more but Jason’s sigh cut him off.

“What do you want?” Jason asked, tired.

Madam Shaggy’s eyes narrowed at them. “I can understand Jason,” she said, then turned to Oliver. “But not you. You used to be all sweet and innocent. I remember when your blood mage friend over there suggested we be friends, you turned the brightest red.”

“Oliver doesn’t blush,” Chris interjected.

“Clearly,” Madam Shaggy confirmed with a dismissive wave. “But I’m sure we all get the point. What I’m saying is he used to be sweet and polite. Now he’s interrupting me just because I asked a friend a simple question.”

“Not a friend,” Eitri pointed out simply.

“That’s harsh.”

“As for what I intend to do,” Eitri looked up at Jason as if he was the one who’d asked the question. “Well, I was thinking of throwing my lot in with you guys.”

Everyone looked at him with unveiled suspicion.

“Why?” Francis asked.

Everyone looked at him as if they’d forgotten he had even been present. He walked easily with Shanine in his arms. The girl looked lifeless, but everyone knew she was still alive. What everyone wondered but no one said, was if she would still be alright when she woke up. She was nothing but a normal human that had suffered the effect of two aura attacks. She had suffered that of a Bishop rank monster that had been strong enough to bring a Rukh rank mage to his knees. Then she had suffered an aura attack filled with so much blood mana it had terrified even a Rukh rank mage when the owner was merely a Beta mage.

No one knew what she would wake up as. There were already stories of normal people being affected horribly by being in the presence of mage auras.

“Why, you ask,” Eitri said, turning his attention to Francis. “Well, I thought it would be self explanatory. You guys have a Knight rank mage, and he seems nice enough. I can say I’m joining you guys for the protection. Didn’t you notice that even the VHF twats have been nothing but respectful to you guys ever since they found out his rank?”

“So you’re joining us for the protection,” Francis said, doubtful.

Eitri paused. Everyone was quiet as they took a turn past a tree. In the light of the midday sun, the forest had none of the fantastical glow of its bioluminicent flowers that had once given it a high fantasy look. The forest was still colorful, very much so, but now it simply looked weird, as it once had.

“If you’re to ask for another reason,” Eitri said as he ducked over what looked like a massive log of wood while the others vaulted over it, “then I would say—”

“Runes,” Lady Long Legs interrupted.

Chris threw her hands up in frustration, making a frustrated sound. “Does nobody respect a private conversation anymore?”

Lady Long Legs looked around them, confused. “This is a private conversation?”

“It was,” Chris scowled. “Until shorty over here interrupted it.”

“Well, sorry about that,” Lady Long Legs apologized. “The Little king hasn’t always been one for boundaries.”

“I hate that name,” Eitri muttered.

“Anyway,” Lady Long Legs continued. “If you really want to know why he’s joining you guys, it’s for rune magic. You guys have a knight rank mage capable of making rune scripts. It’s always been Eitri’s dream to be able to conjure up a runescript. Apparently, it’s the pinnacle of rune magic. If I’m not mistaken, he’s planning on begging your Knight mage to teach him.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Eitri scowled.

“It is when you’re abandoning all your power for it.”

“All my power can go fuck itself for all I care. In the face of that level of rune control I’ve got zilch for power. Hell, thinking about it gives me a right headache.”

Eitri’s hand moved in a flicker. His finger twirled gently, a blue-purple line trailed after it as he birthed a rune. It was a simple rune with neither flourish nor beauty. It flickered just above his hand like a broken tv channel during a thunderstorm. It refused to live, yet it refused to die. Eitri groaned as he kept it alive. It lasted perhaps three seconds before he released it with a sigh.

It guttered out unceremoniously.

“Not enough mana,” Eitri scowled. “Overdrive took more out of me than I thought.”

“Excuses,” Lady Long Legs smirked.

They walked on settling into an uneven silence. The trees around them were familiar now. It was not just because they had been through this path before but because they knew they were closer to the outskirts of the forest. Closer to freedom.

At the lead of the group, Festus remained a silent monk carrying Zed’s body as if it weighed nothing. If he was saying anything—if words were being exchanged between him and Daniel—no one knew.

Just behind Festus and Daniel, the two remaining Olympians followed quietly. Ronda continued to hold Kid up as Kid did his best to continue walking. They looked the awful path of defeated.

The rest of the team walked quietly behind. Heimdall’s people moved with what was left of the powers of Hillview, silent despite the questions and words that plagued their tongues.

A few paces behind them, Hillary walked without a sound, a forgotten member of a party. He was the extra no one spoke about. A side character designed to occupy space.