Zed waited patiently for a reaction. The look on Jason’s face said he took the information in strides. Oliver was as shocked as a cat finding out it had just been neutered. Skepticism was Chris’ middle name. And Ash, well, she looked like she’d just bitten into something nasty, not rotten but sour.

“So, amnesia?” Jason asked after a while. “That would explain a few things.”

“Amnesia is the one where you forget everything, right?” Zed asked.

Jason nodded.

“Yeah, no,” Zed shook his head. “Not that one. I remember a little, just not a lot. And the little I remember lacks chronology.”

“Chronology?” Chris asked.

“Order when it comes to time,” Jason answered absently, his face a picture of thoughtfulness. “I guess that’ll explain the inconsistencies.”

“Inconsis…” Zed let his words trail off with a sigh and picked up his tomahawk. Personally he’d thought he’d been doing a good job, apart from the occasional slip ups he was more than happy to blame on the memories that didn’t belong to him.

“It’s getting dark,” he added, instead. “So unless we want to spend the night here, I’d suggest we get out of here. Or is there another monster you’d like to pit me against?”

“There is, actually,” Jason answered. “But not now. For now, you’re right. we should leave. This is not a good place to set up camp.”

“Sorry,” Zed said. “Set up camp?”

………………………………………

Their exit from the building was done in silence. They walked a considerable distance as evening dimmed into night, Zed’s mana beast core safely hidden in Oliver’s bag. When he’d asked what they were going to do about the monster corpse, Jason’s answer had been simple.

“Leave it,” he said. “The meat will likely go bad before we can get it to our next destination and we can’t sell it to VHF peddlers with so many injuries like that. They don’t take anything too mutilated.”

“Then how do you preserve the ones you want to sell?” Zed asked.

“Well, we use salt.”

“Salt?”

“Yea, it’s an amazing preservative when it comes to monster corpses. It keeps it safe for way too long to be considered natural. But when its diced up the way you do it, even salt won’t help.”

When the night aged into its prime and darkness bathed everything around them so that it was difficult to tell where a crack in the road began and where it ended, they slipped into another building for the night.

This one was one that had been completed before its dilapidation. It had scores of broken glass, green with moss and algae, at least Zed liked to think it was moss and algae.

“I miss elevators,” Chris commented as they walked past a boxed up room without a door and nothing but a length of cable inside.

They took the stairs in relative silence, apart from a few comments here and there. Usually of unimportant things, mundane like a particularly overgrown fly perched on the wall. Or a room that still had an unbroken desktop comfortably rested on the table.

“Who wants to bet that’s the boss’ office?” Oliver asked.

“How would you know?” Ash replied. “You never did any work.”

“At all?” Chris asked, surprised.

“At all.”

“Not even, like, a waiting job or a valet or a delivery gig?”

“None,” Ash said. “Our parents spoilt him to rot. Mom always treated him like he was some egg that would crack under pressure.”

“Of course,” Oliver scoffed sarcastically. “That’s why dad had to talk her out of sending me to military school.”

Conversations went on in this manner as they went up each flight of stairs. Every now and then, they would steal into one of the floors in search of anything of use. Each time they found none.

They’d since learned the building had been used for business purposes with each floor housing the series of office desks, cubicles and office supplies. They found the occasional functioning staplers. Sometimes there was a pen or some dying person’s note about loving their wife or husband. There was a confession note about cheating and a prayer that God would forgive them. Zed couldn’t fathom why someone would feel the need to write that down. It also made him wonder if he was religious. From his name, he suspected his parents were most likely Catholic but couldn’t be sure.

Looking through the building gave them some levels of entertainment but nothing useful and, eventually, they stopped. Jason was always in the lead, always the first one up the flight of stairs and the first into a floor.

When they finally settled down, it was on one of the top floors. It was an office space riddled with tables and cubicles and office equipment, like what they’d been seeing.

“Alright,” Jason said as they strolled into the space. “You guys know what to do.”

He’d barely finished his statement when the others walked off in different directions. Jason remained standing and Zed folded his arms beside him, nodding away like a proud father.

“It’s all coming together,” he said mischievously, earning a suspicious look from Jason. “What?”

“What’s coming together?” Jason asked.

“I’ve got no idea, really,” Zed answered. “Just felt if I played the part of mastermind I’d be able to figure out what’s going on.”

Jason shook his head and headed off in one direction. Zed followed him quietly. A loud crash erupted from one side of the floor, startling Zed. He composed himself quickly and turned back to Jason.

“Next time,” Jason said and drove his foot into a desk, shattering it on impact, “just ask what’s happening if you don’t know.”

Zed smiled impishly. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

“The fun is in getting treated like a responsible person.”

“Well, I’ve got this for that,” he said, brandishing his tomahawk. “Besides that, I like being seen as a fun loving person.”

Jason paused from what he was doing to look at him, then Zed looked around, spotting the rest of the team easily.

“Do you really think they see you as fun loving?” he asked with genuine curiosity.

Zed shook his head. “Not your lot,” he said. “All of you that do all the killing wouldn’t know what fun looked like if it crawled in your eyes and died. I’m talking of the simple folks back in town. The missus Bowens and Old man Tendils. The—”

“There’s no one by the name of Old man Tendil in town,” Jason said, returning his attention to gathering pieces of shattered wood from the table he’d kicked in.

“Really?” Zed asked, surprised. “Are you sure? Old man with thinning hair? Sells moonshine out of his garage? Nothing?”

“We have alcohol in town but no moonshine,” Jason said with an armful of wood. “Now if you’d be kind enough to help more with your hands than your mouth, we can start preparing for the night.”

Zed turned and looked around. He found a random desk and drove his foot into it like Jason had. it shattered a bit too easily for his liking, and he turned back to Jason, his mind scouring itself for who Old man Tendil was.

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“Will that do?” he asked.

“Yea,” Jason answered. “I’m sure we already have more than enough, but just gather a few more and follow me.”

Jason led him with the stacks of wood, meandering a path through the obstacle of chairs and cubicles and broken tables, bumping into a few of them to Zed’s surprise while moving slowly. Few amongst them were intact and Zed found himself wondering why they’d had to break more when there were already some that were broken

“So what do we need this for?” he asked, gesturing at the stack in his hand. Somewhere at the center of the room, Ash had already dropped her stack and was clearing out a wide space with Oliver’s help.

“Kindling for a fire,” Jason answered.

Zed frowned in confusion, realizing he wasn’t cold.

“You guys are more clothed than I am,” he said. “But I’m not cold. Do you think it’s another attribute of mine?”

“It’s not,” Jason answered. “Mages don’t get cold or hot. And the stronger you get, the less sleep you need. Ash can go as long as a week without sleep, and I can’t remember the last time I actually needed sleep.”

“But you sleep, though?” Zed asked, worried. “Right?”

“Whenever I can. Usually when I’m back in town.”

“Good. Because you should never trust a guy who hasn’t had a goodnight sleep, that’s what my friend always says.”

“The friend you don’t remember?” Jason asked with a suspicious look.

“I already told you it’s not amnesia,” Zed sighed as they came upon the clearing. “I just can’t remember a lot of things. I remember I had a friend that used to say that but not who exactly he was.”

Jason nodded and dumped his stack of wood in a growing pile. Zed did the same.

“So if it’s not for warmth what do we need a fire for?”

“There are monsters that are nocturnal,” Jason said. “So we do this to avoid getting jumped.”

“A lot, actually,” Oliver added. “And while Jason has one of the best aura senses in the team, there are also some monsters that can mask their aura pretty well.”

Zed looked around, confused. The weather was dark but it wasn’t so dark that it was difficult to see. Curious, he held a hand down to his side and started counting down with his fingers. When he reached zero, he made a fist then started afresh.

“What are you doing?” Jason asked.

“You really can’t see this?” Zed asked.

“See what?” Chris asked.

“This.” Zed held up his hand and continued counting down.

Chris turned her head. “Did someone tell this guy that mages are nocturnal?”

Zed brows rose in surprise.

“It’s really not that dark,” he protested. “I mean, for people who can create balls of light and water bend I’d think you’d have better eyesight.”

Oliver laughed and turned to Ash. “He called you a water bender.”

Then he dodged Ash’s swinging hand, chuckling.

“I’m not a water bender,” she scowled at Zed. “This is less avatar, and more monster apocalypse.”

“Stop counting down,” Jason snapped at Zed. “I can see it just fine, but mages don’t start getting heightened senses till category three Rukh. The fire’s for them.”

“So I didn’t just see you bumping into the tables earlier,” Zed teased.

“So that’s what that sound was,” Ash mused. “I thought it was you, Red.”

Jason sighed. “Can we just light a fire and get on with this?”

“Sure thing,” Zed smirked. “Can’t have the others stumbling about.”

The set up was quick and efficient. The latter part was mostly because, magic. Regardless, it served its purpose. Each piece of wood was broken into smaller pieces before being stacked into a small campfire. When the stack was ready, Chris held her fingers on one hand to a point and drew it to her lips. She whispered something Zed didn’t catch and a tongue of fire came alive above them.

She brought it down to the small pile of woods and slipped it into it effortlessly. The flames came alive with a slow burn and Zed caught Chris looking up at him.

“Cool, right?” she said.

His gaze moved from the fire to her face and caught what he was beginning to believe was a rare genuine smile on her face. She looked comfortably proud of herself. It wasn’t the arrogance of the snarky, merely the smile someone has when they know they’ve created something beautiful.

He smiled softly. “It is.”

Chris grinned mischievously. “A shame you won’t be able to do it.”

Oddly, the jibe stung more than Zed expected it to. To birth flames with nothing but the whisper of words, to be that connected to a sense of creation that deeply was something to be envious of. To know that he wouldn’t be able to do it hurt.

His emotion must have shown on his face because Chris’ smirk dropped from her lips.

“That wasn’t a very nice thing to say,” Oliver said, taking a sit on one side of the fire. “You shouldn’t be so mean.”

Chris frowned at being chided but turned her attention back to Zed.

“You know I didn’t mean that, right?” she said. “I mean, I didn’t say it to hurt you or anything.”

“It’s alright,” Zed shrugged, taking a sit by the flame. “I guess I’ll just satisfy myself with the attributes I’ve got.”

There was a moment of silence as Ash and Jason sat down. A moment during which Jason stared at them in confusion.

“What exactly are you guys talking about?” Jason asked. “Who said Zed can’t learn spellforms?”

“But you said—”

Jason waved Zed to silence. “Mages with attributes don’t bother with spellforms and magic because it’s more difficult for them than mages like us.”

“So,” Zed asked with a shadow of hope, “I’ll be able to do that?”

“Most likely. But I’d advise against it.”

“What of runes?” Ash asked. “They can do pretty much everything spellforms can do. Maybe he can learn more of that?”

“And how many runes, pray tell, do you have?” Jason asked her.

She looked away with a chastised frown.

“Should I take that as none?” Zed asked.

“No,” Jason said. “She’s got two. A shield rune and a variation of an ice rune.”

“Alright,” Zed said. “Why?”

“Because unlike spellforms that work with your mind and mana to create something, runes…” Jason shook his head. “It’s better if I just show you.”

He looked at the ground, first, then not seeing whatever he was looking for, he looked around. He touched his pockets as if on instinct and swore under his breath before turning to Oliver.

“I need a pen and paper,” he told him.

“I think I saw some a while ago,” Zed said, rising, only for Jason to drag him back down by the wrist as Oliver offered him a pen and paper.

“Oliver’s got some,” Ash told Zed.

“Wait, he just carries around a pen and paper?”

“No,” Jason answered, collecting the items from Oliver. “Oliver is something of a collector. I’d bet a grand if we open his bag we’d find at least one odd looking piece of wood or even a stapler.”

Oliver zipped the bag shut immediately.

“What could you possibly—” Zed shut himself up with a deep breath. “No. Let’s talk about the rune, it’s definitely the more useful piece of information to me right now.”

“True,” Jason agreed.

Oliver had given him a sheet of paper, rumpled and torn, with a ball pen. Jason placed the paper on the ground close to the fire to see with its light, smoothening it out with a hand before placing the pen to it. His actions were slow and purposeful as he wrote. The pen moved in gentle strokes and curved lines. He was like an artist giving his time to a delicate piece of art.

When he was done, the paper was left with simple lines, one unnaturally straight and two curved with a third curling around in a loop.

“That’s it?” Zed asked. “A bit anticlimactic, don’t you think?”

“Well, I have to run mana through it to activate it,” Jason said defensively. “But that’s not what this is about. Oliver, paper.”

Oliver fished into his bag and produced another piece of paper with a reluctant grumble and Jason took it gratefully. He turned to Zed and offered him both pen and paper.

“Looks easy enough, doesn’t it?”

Zed nodded, suspecting there was a trick to it.

“Write away then,” Jason said. “Capture the image in your mind and draw it.”

Zed bent forward and put pen to paper. He stared at the rune Jason had drawn and found each line was without blemish, artistic. Well, I’m definitely not going to do anything that pretty.

He held the image in mind and drew a line. The pen bumped over something under the paper and everyone chuckled as his line went askew.

He shot each of them a frown.

“There’s a lot of sand on the floor,” he grumbled.

He picked the paper back up and swept the floor with his palm. Certain it was smooth enough, he placed the paper back and started anew.

He captured the image in his mind once more and drew a line again. The image broke. It startled him out of his focus and he frowned down at the paper.

He hadn’t lost focus, neither had his hand slipped. The image had just disappeared, left him as if he’d never had it. He kept his eye on the rune this time and drew without looking at his work. The first line was barely halfway when the image began to blur. It was like trying to see something after rubbing his eyes roughly. Unwilling to admit defeat, he squinted at the product, tried to trap it in his mind even as he watched it.

----------------------------------------

Attribute: [Hypersensitivity] (Physical, mana)

* Your awareness of mana is abnormal and so are your already heightened senses.

* Careful, lest you hurt yourself.

----------------------------------------

The image cleared up slightly. He saw the lines, straight, and curled, and swirling. He held it with a focused frown, captured it like a picture captures a moment and drew a straight line.

Then the image broke and the end of the line went awry.

“I think that’s more than enough,” Jason said, snatching the pen from his hand.

“I was close,” Zed said, suddenly tired. “I think I’ll get it with a few more tries.”

“No, you won’t,” Jason told him, then gestured at his work.

Zed looked down at the paper. His first two works were poor, and they came as no surprise. The third, however, stunned him.

“I could’ve sworn that was a straight line,” he argued, staring at a third blatant failure.

“Yeah,” Jason squeezed the papers and tossed them into the flames as kindle. “I don’t doubt you. But the thing about runes, unlike spellforms, is that they act against you. While spellforms are the minds way of connecting to mana, runes are existences in reality that you’re not supposed to know. So they work against you at every turn. Your mind doesn’t want to understand it because it’s not supposed to, and your body won’t recreate it because it never has and it never should.”

“Or at least that’s how Festus puts it,” Ash said.

“But it’s not impossible,” Zed said. “You just drew one.”

Jason nodded. “With a few months of tutorship and practice I can cast that and a few others. I know I didn’t put my all into it but that should give you an idea of how inaccurate Ash’s reference to you learning runes is. In my opinion, learning a rune is harder than trying to get a spellform even as an attribute mage.”

Zed looked down, his hope dragged into the fire to burn with the papers. He was still looking down when a drop of blood hit the floor. In his periphery Ash was watching him closely.

He looked up at her and she gestured by wiping a finger across her nose.

Zed wiped his nose with the back of his hand and it came away bloody.

That's new.