Arden and Arenvald went to the Gold Saucer and spent two days playing cards, betting on races, playing game after game together, and eating expensive food. Arden forgot the pressures of his life and just enjoyed himself. Arenvald, who had had a rough season in the arena, had needed a break just as badly. They distracted themselves completely and emerged after two days rested, if not quite ready to return to the pressures of life.
Arden returned to Gridania and went to the Conjurer's Guild to check in with both his counselor and E-Sumi-Yan. His counselor was unhappy that he had gone straight into military training without giving himself time to heal first, and advised him to take a little more time to work with his hands. Arden accepted this advice, knowing he wouldn't be able to take it, and presented himself to E-Sumi-Yan.
"I'm ready for the next level of training, whatever that might be," Arden said, bowing to the boy padjal.
E-Sumi-Yan gazed at him with his unsettling pale eyes for a moment. "Have you learned resurrection?"
"Yes sir."
"I assume the Twin Adders taught you combat conjury?"
"Yes sir."
"Esuna?"
"Yes sir."
E-Sumi-Yan shifted his weight and studied Arden with one hand on his chin. "I know you passed your first level healer test. There remains three more, but that involves medical study, not magic."
"Do you recommend I resume classes?" Arden asked.
After a moment's thought, E-Sumi-Yan said, "If you wish to be a top healer, then naturally I recommend that you continue your studies. But I think your path lies in a different direction now."
"But–but sir," Arden protested, "I came to Eorzea to train as a healer, not become a soldier."
"I am well aware," said E-Sumi-Yan. "But I made inquiries into your slaying of the primal Ifrit. Your use of conjury frankly astounds me. I believe it's time you took your training from someone more experienced in a different school of magic." He turned to a nearby table and began writing a note.
Arden waited, struck with the urge to catch his tail in his hands and stroke the spikes on the end, but resisted. As far as he knew, this was the only place to learn healing magic, and he had no idea where his teacher might send him next.
E-Sumi-Yan turned back to him and held out the paper. "For this you must see Raya-O-Senna in the South Shroud. She usually works out of Camp Tranquil in Rootslake. She will teach you white magic."
"Wh-white magic?" Arden stammered.
"Yes, it is the most focused and intense healing magic in existence," said E-Sumi-Yan. "You use it during resurrections, so you have some passing familiarity with it. Raya-O-Senna is the younger sister of Kan-E-Senna and is no less educated. Present my letter and learn from her as you would from me."
Arden bowed. "Thank you, sir. I will depart at once."
A little later, as Arden guided his chocobo down a winding road into the South Shroud, he wondered what training lay ahead of him, what further trials. Minfilia had sent no more word about dealing with Titan, but the threat of the primal hung over his head. Being forced to fight Ifrit was one thing, but willingly seeking out Titan was another. And how did anyone fight a being of animated stone? The magic elements consisted of wind, water, earth, fire, lightning, and ice. Water or ice might be effective against earth, but the only water spell he knew was Esuna.
He breathed such a heavy sigh that Swift looked back at him. "You are sad?"
"I have many thoughts," Arden said, patting the chocobo's neck. "They are heavy as stones and make me weary."
"I am not weary," said Swift. "I will carry us far, far away."
"You only need go as far as that lake," said Arden, pointing to the gleam of water in the distance through a gap in the trees. "I must speak to someone there."
"I will take us there quickly," said Swift, and broke into a heavy gallop. Arden hung on for dear life, and all dark thoughts were battered out of him.
By the time they reached Rootslake, Arden was panting and seeing stars. He dismounted his chocobo and had to rest, much to the amusement of a couple of guards nearby. They were dressed in the browns and greens of the Wood Wailers and carried bows.
"Aye, a Destrier will fair batter you to pieces," said one. "Work on your seating, grip tight with your knees."
"There's a reason they mainly use them to pull carts," said his companion, and they laughed.
Once Arden had recovered, he saluted the guards and showed his Yellow Serpent badge. "I've been sent to speak to Raya-O-Senna. Where might I find her?"
The guards pointed to a series of platforms built over the lake with houses on them. "Usually there, last house in line," said a Wailer. "Her brother arrived today, so no telling where they might have run off to. Padjals, you know. Always off talking to the trees."
"Thank you." Leading Swift, Arden climbed a zigzagging ramp up to the elevated town. It was supported by living trees, their roots buried in the lake, which only appeared to be a couple of fulms deep. The floor was actually thick chunks of earth and sod. He peered at it skeptically, wondering how it stayed up, and saw that the sod was entirely interlaced with fine rootlets. Woven by magic, perhaps. He shrugged and entered the town.
Camp Tranquil was an outpost of the Sixth Spear of the Wood Wailers. Everyone moved about in brown and green, even those who were off duty. An aetheryte crystal towered in the middle of town for quick travel back to the city, and Arden avoided it.
He found the last house in the town, but it was locked and unoccupied. Standing outside, holding his chocobo's reins and looking about in disappointment, he must have presented an odd figure. A tall Elezen approached him, a spear strapped to his back. "Looking for someone, stranger?"
"Raya-O-Senna," said Arden. "Any idea where she's gone?"
The man pointed across the little lake island to a tuft of land beside the exit ramp. A boy and girl dressed in white stood there, obviously deep in discussion.
"Thank you," said Arden, beaming. He left his chocobo tied to a hitching post and jumped onto the tuft of land.
The boy and girl looked up with annoyance. "Can't you see we're busy?" said the boy. His red hair completely concealed his eyes, which Arden found unsettling.
Arden bowed apologetically and held out the note. "A letter from E-Sumi-Yan, if you please."
The girl looked to be about twelve, her red hair in pigtails, allowing for the padjal horns to show. She and her brother looked Arden up and down, probably intimidated by his size, before she opened the letter. They read it together. Then the boy said, "Of course you won't. He's no padjal."
"But E-Sumi-Yan asked specially," said Raya-O-Senna.
"It's only intended for padjals!"
"What if we make an exception?"
"No exceptions!"
Arden cleared his throat, interrupting the argument. "I am Arden Ardakim, and I have been told that my studies must include white magic."
"You were told wrong," said the boy. "I am A-Ruhn-Senna, and white magic is only for padjals. Not … whatever you are."
"Shh, so rude!" his sister scolded. She turned to Arden, trying to look professional. "White magic was banned after the white mages of Amdapoor and the black mages of Minghk went to war and caused the Sixth Umbral Calamity. The elementals only chose to teach white magic to their padjals in the last few centuries. We have guarded the knowledge lest it be misused once more."
Arden thought about this. "I thought white magic is for healing."
"It is," Raya assented.
"Then why guard it so closely?" said Arden. "Why not teach others to succor the sick and dying?"
"Conjury can do that," said A-Ruhn scornfully. "White magic is far more powerful. And that's all you'll ever know, because we're not going to teach you. Now go away."
"A-Ruhn!" Raya scolded. She turned to Arden. "If E-Sumi-Yan recommends you as a student, then I have an easy course of study for you, provided you can fight."
"I can," said Arden.
She pointed over the lake toward where a particularly gnarled set of trees wound over and through the broken ruins of a gate. "We have a problem, you see. Over there is the entrance to Amdapoor itself. After it was destroyed in the flood of the Sixth Umbral Calamity, the forest closed in and swallowed the ruins to prevent anyone from using the knowledge buried within. However, lately a foul energy has been leaking out and making the elementals uneasy. We were debating organizing an expedition to go inside."
"Yes, send the adventurer!" A-Ruhn blurted. "Find the wall of lilies and purify it. If he dies in the attempt, then we're free of this ridiculous obligation to teach him the secret arts."
Raya looked pained. "That's…that's not the reason I mentioned it. That city is where white magic originated, you see. It would be educational to see the sorts of things the mages did with it."
"And it's rotten," said A-Ruhn with boyish relish. "All rotten, all foul, crawling with all manner of insects. Giant ones."
"I see," said Arden, trying to imagine this. "What caused such rot?"
"The imbalance of magicks, of course," said Raya. "White magic is the static, inactive element, needing Dark to balance it. Without any Dark energies, the city lies stagnant."
While Arden had been schooled in the basic interactions of magic, he had never before heard of what out-of-control white magic might do to an area. It might have implications for healing magic, after all, and an urge grew in him to visit this place and see what white magic had done.
"Might I take friends?" Arden asked.
"Of course, of course," said Raya. "Purify the wall of lilies and that should stop the uneasiness of the elementals. Bring us back a lily as proof of your success."
"Or don't come back at all," A-Ruhn muttered under his breath.
"So, if you succeed in this quest, do you become a padjal?" Arenvald asked.
"I hope not," Arden replied. "I have enough horns already."
They were picking their way through the tangled growth that had swallowed the city of Amdapoor long ago. Huge roots had uprooted foundations and masonry, and tangled trunks made impassable walls. The two men had to climb and crawl through the rampant growth, taking it as a challenge.
Arden wore good armor this time, courtesy of the Twin Adders. When he had returned to Gridania and told his captain of his quest to learn white magic, his captain had assigned him armor at once. Now Arden looked like a Twin Adder guard in a canary yellow tunic over a chain mail shirt and pants. It was heavy and made climbing difficult, but it would turn a blade or a stinger.
Arenvald had brought along his gladiator armor, and clanked like a box of cutlery when he had to climb over a snarled root. His sword and shield were strapped to his back to leave his hands free, and he was already sweating under his helmet in the stifling forest heat. But he spoke cheerfully enough.
"I do say, fighting giant insects will be a change from fighting arena challengers. Might even give me ideas for more tactics, eh?"
"Most likely we'll be swatting away gnats and flies, and right fools we'll look," said Arden. "Me with my staff and you with your sword and shield."
"We can actually enter Amdapoor, right?" Arenvald asked, halting at the base of a truly tremendous tree that had grown itself into a wall of white bricks.
Arden gazed up at the tree and the wall, and grinned. "I think we can climb it. Come on!"
Fifteen minutes saw them over the wall and on the other side, each panting and sweaty. Arenvald unslung his sword and shield and went through a series of warm-up stances. They had arrived on a white pavement set with blue stones, which had probably once been the floor of a house. Now roofless and open to the sky, the pavement dropped in a series of steps to a road of some sort that wound its way between ruined walls and pillars. Arden stood still, gazing out over the ruins and sensing the magical aura of the place. It did have an unwholesome reek to it, now that he stopped to pay attention. He was reminded of a particular swamp in the Azim Steppes that always seemed to have at least one dead sheep rotting in it. Amdapoor felt like a decaying swamp, full of life and scavengers, but everything fed on the rot.
"So, where is this wall of lilies?" Arenvald asked, sheathing his sword.
"It's part of the temple," Arden said, pulling out a map and consulting it. "It lies in the city center, but the forest did a good job trying to destroy the place. I believe we can reach it if we circle around from the east. The rest has been torn apart by the trees."
"Right, let's go," said Arenvald, and set out at once. Arden followed him, his rangy stride overtaking the Hyur's shorter legs within a few paces. Arenvald grinned at him and quickened his pace.
They nearly ran down the steps and along the crumbling avenue between the old buildings. They nearly tripped over a mass of moths and caterpillars that swarmed over some brown mass in a corner of the buildings. Each insect was the size of a large dog. The flying insects flew upward in a blast of colorful wings, while the worms reared upright and tried to sting the intruders. Arenvald whipped out his sword and hacked the worms apart, taking several nasty stings across the knuckles, straight through his gloves. Arden purged the venom with Esuna and healed the wounds, adding his own conjured stone to the attacks. Stone was particularly effective against fat, bold caterpillars.
"What were they eating?" Arenvald asked once the insects were dead or gone. He prodded the brown mass with the tip of his sword.
"Looks like slime," said Arden, reluctant to move any closer. "I can't tell what it's feeding on and I don't want to. Let's go."
They pushed on deeper into the ruins, fighting their way through stinging caterpillars, giant centipedes, butterflies that swarmed them, and huge beetles. The further they went, the more slime they saw: brown slime coating walls or pooling in corners, great piles of mold that burped out clouds of spores, fuzzy mounds of unidentifiable substances. Once they saw a towering goobbue shoveling mold into its huge jaws, only to have the mold spill out of a decaying rip in its belly.
The sense of rotten magic began to disturb Arden the closer they drew to the city's center. It wasn't just the sweet, sickly stink of rot that permeated the air, or the feasting insects. It was the dreadful imbalance of the place. Compared to the deep, healthy green of the Twelveswood, or even the vast, open desert of Thanalan, this ruined city felt bleached and starved, too bright, too still, like white bones in the sand. Thin strands of other aether leaked in and caused the molds to grow, but it could not balance the overabundance of white magic.
"Arden," Arenvald whispered, ducking behind a piece of wall and dragging his friend into cover, too. "There's something out there and it's not a moth."
Arden peered through a gap between the bricks. They were quite near the temple by this time, a towering building of many pillars and arches. The domed roof was still intact, despite the roots and trees that had grown up against its west side. But pacing the courtyard before the temple was a great white statue of a stone lion. Back and forth it paced, its limbs grating and creaking faintly.
"A golem," Arenvald whispered. "Animated by white magic, I guess."
"Can you fight a golem?" Arden murmured, watching the statue move.
Arenvald grimaced and shook his head. "They're something a mage has to deal with. You have to take the animating magic off it. Thing is, this is white magic, and the arena golems I've seen all run on earth."
Arden bit his tongue to keep from asking how in Eorzea someone animated a golem with white magic, which he had supposed only involved healing. Maybe A-Ruhn was right and he really did have a lot to learn about white magic.
"Here's what we'll do," Arenvald said after a moment. "I'll get its attention and lead it away from the doors. You run for the doors and hold them open for me. I'll double back and join you."
"And if it catches you?" Arden asked.
Arenvald raised his shield. "I'll be fine." He charged out of hiding with a shout and threw his shield at the lion. The shield spun through the air and struck the lion on the stone nose. The statue whipped around, its blank carved eyes fixed on the Hyur. Arenvald scooped up his shield and ran for his life as the lion galloped after him, the ground shaking beneath its stone feet.
Arden ran for the temple doors, which were carved of old, heavy wood and were three times taller than he was. He fought to heave one open, and managed to get a knee and shoulder through. Outside, the lion's thundering footsteps drew nearer, chasing the frantic jingle of Arenvald's armor.
Arden squirmed through the door just as Arenvald hit it and forced his way through. Then they both flung themselves against the door and closed it just as the lion crashed into it. The door shuddered and ground inward, but the two men braced their feet and forced it back into place. Outside the lion fell silent. After a moment it seemed to forget about them. Its heavy footfalls returned to its original spot, where it resumed pacing.
Arden let out a breath and found to his surprise that he was laughing. Arenvald leaned against the door beside him and laughed, too. They both laughed until they couldn't breathe, giddy with their narrow escape, still holding the door shut in case the lion returned. They had entered a shadowy antechamber of the temple, and nothing moved inside.
Arden caught his breath. "I thought you were history."
"When I saw that door barely cracked, I thought I was, too," Arenvald laughed. He pulled off his helmet and ran a hand through his sweaty hair, revealing his scarred forehead for a second. "I guess we do the same thing on the way out."
"I'll take the lead next time," said Arden. "I'm faster than you."
"Are not!" Arenvald exclaimed.
"Are too," Arden retorted. "Longer legs, greater speed, and unless you forgot, I'm a fulm taller than you."
"Speed matters in the arena," Arenvald retorted. "And just so you know, I've had an invitation to apply for the Sultansworn Paladins, so there."
"That would be great!" Arden exclaimed. "Better pay and hours, right?"
"More standing around in impressive armor," Arenvald grinned. "Less fighting for my life in the arena. But you know, I'm ready for a change. I'll help you learn white magic, you help me with whatever hazing awaits a nascent paladin."
"Agreed," said Arden. "Speaking of which, the wall of lilies should be just inside. Keep your sword out, just in case."
"Better let me go first," said Arenvald, lifting his shield. Holding it in front of him for extra protection, he advanced to the doorway and peered out into the temple. Silently he beckoned for his friend to join him.
Arden moved up and peeked into the temple. Immediately he saw the need for silence. They had entered the vast room beneath the domed roof, the ceiling supported by pillars with capstones carved like vines and flowers. A staircase across the room spiraled downward into parts unknown. But standing in the center of this room was a stone angel of white marble. She wore armor and carried a sword and shield, and stood motionless, wings spread. The craftsmanship was the same as the lion statue outside.
Behind her was a wall engraved with relief carvings of lilies. They formed a beautiful, delicate design of petals and leaves around a single, enormous lily bigger than Arden was tall. But from the cracks in the design oozed brown slime, dripping to the floor in long rivulets.
"Watch the angel," Arden whispered. "I'll try to purify the lily wall."
He crept into the room, trying to walk quietly on the stone floor, but his footsteps echoed just the same. The angel statue didn't stir. He reached the lily wall and pressed a hand to a clean spot among the slimy engravings. His sense of magic was confused for a moment. The slime was coming from far below the wall, upwelling like a foul spring, carried by tendrils of black magic. The white magic, too far overbalanced into passivity, did not resist but held all things still.
Arden placed his hand in different spots, trying to understand. This wall was a giant magic focus. He sensed the channels that ran through it, following the engraved lilies and leaves. All of it was filled with runnels of slime until it overflowed and ran down the stone.
Cautiously Arden applied a basic Cure spell, drawing upon the earth underfoot. To his dismay, the earth seemed faint and far away, engulfed in white magic. His spell was also faint. But the slime recoiled from it as if he had dumped a gallon of cleaning fluid on it. A patch of clean stone appeared around his hand.
The slime was actually quite weak, he realized. Even a breath of healing magic could wipe it away, if he could find enough earth magic to draw upon. He found it in tiny wisps and breaths, and used it to cure small patches of slime, but it wasn't enough. He needed to purify the whole wall.
Arden stepped back to catch his breath and look around. Arenvald stood in front of the angel statue, keeping an eye on it. "Any luck?" he called softly.
"I can't find enough earth magic to heal with," Arden called back.
Arenvald gestured at the angel. "Why not use white magic?"
Arden studied the lily wall again. He used a little white magic in resurrections, so he knew the technique of drawing upon Light and shaping it. This area was so flooded in white magic, maybe he could use that for a Cure spell, instead? He'd never tried using a different source for a spell and wasn't sure it would work. Doubtfully he drew in the stagnant white magic and began to shape it with his mind.
The magic came in a rush, flooding his senses with brightness, blinding him. He funneled it into the wall and sprang backwards. The light left him and blazed into the channels in the wall, outlining the center lily and its leaves in blazing white. The slime sizzled away in stinking swampy smoke.
A sound behind him made him look over his shoulder. The angel statue had turned its head, it's carved eyes regarding him with cold interest.
Arenvald swore. "No, here, right here, you big hunk of rock!"
The angel statue ignored him. Instead, it raised its sword and shield and strode toward Arden.
Arden saw it coming and hesitated for a split second. Then he used his conjure stone spell to conjure light instead.
It didn't work the way he expected it to. Instead of a light spear, like he'd intended, a ball of light formed in front of the angel and burst in a blinding flash. The angel halted, raising its shield. Arden stumbled backwards, his vision blasted and swimming with afterimages, and crashed into the lily wall. His tunic hissed and smoked as it touched the active white magic.
Arenvald ran after the angel and hacked at its legs. His sword chipped the marble, but otherwise didn't harm the statue.
"Arden!" he yelled. "You can only defeat these things by stripping the magic out of them!"
"Right!" Arden exclaimed, rubbing the brights from his eyes. The angel was just lowering her shield. He ran at the statue before it could move, grabbed the statue's arm, and swung himself up. His boots finding purchase in the sculpted folds of the angel's tunic, he climbed up the angel to its head. The head turned, the motionless carved eyes staring at him. In the center of the forehead was a small glowing crystal with a symbol carved on it. Arden grabbed that crystal, dug his fingernails under it, and popped it free.
At once the angel reverted to its original pose, standing with its sword and shield. Arden slid to the floor, the crystal clutched in his fist, and gazed up at the statue. It didn't stir. Behind it, the lily wall glowed steadily as white magic coursed through it.
"You did it!" Arenvald exclaimed, walking up and slapping him on the shoulder. "What'd you do, anyway?"
"Pulled out it's power source," said Arden, opening his hand and displaying the crystal. It glowed a soft pearly white against his palm.
"Looks important," said Arenvald. "So will those snooty padjals accept that as proof of success?"
"They asked for a lily," said Arden, turning to examine the wall. "But this isn't something I can bring back with me."
"Sure it is," said Arenvald. "Bring back some of that magic and show them."
Arden faced the wall and gazed up at the center lily. As he did, the crystal in his hand flickered. A memory whispered in his mind–a memory from another mind–of white magic blooming like a lily, its magic mending a wound or cleansing an illness.
He extended a hand to the big lily. White magic gathered to his hand and formed a glowing lily over his fingertips. Smiling, Arden showed it to his companion.
Arenvald whistled through his teeth. "Neat trick! I'll bet those kids will be happy."
"Raya-O-Senna, maybe," said Arden. "But nothing I do will please A-Ruhn-Senna."