Arden spent the next two days eating and sleeping. So did Minfilia, Tataru, and Urianger, who had to recover from the poor conditions and interrogations of their imprisonment.
On the third day, when Arden felt well enough, he went in search of the Scions. They were scattered about Revenant's Toll, all hard at work on something. In the garage where Maggie had been, he found Cid, Wedge, Biggs, Alphinaud, and Z'mona. Everyone was grouped around a magitek object on the workbench, and looked up as Arden entered.
"Look who it is!" Z'mona exclaimed. He dashed to Arden, grabbed his arm, and towed him toward the workbench. The catboy gestured proudly at the machine. "We're building an aetheric ram! It'll cut right through the wind wall around Garuda and allow the airship to pass straight through."
"Once Arenvald returns with the correct type of crystal," Alphinaud added. "He's been working for a researcher who has sent him after the wrong kind twice now."
"If you ask me, she's sweet on him," said Cid. "It's her way of keeping him around. But the delays have been rather trying."
"Why do we need the crystal?" Arden asked.
He was treated to a lecture on the six types of aether and how some were active and some were passive, and how they interacted with each other. Wind aether was canceled out by ice aether, which was one reason Garuda had not amassed enough strength to destroy Ishgard by now.
"But the researcher sent our poor paladin in search of earth and lightning before she condescended to admit that he needed ice," said Alphinaud. "Infuriating when a primal has been left so long to ravage the land as she pleases."
"I told you to keep calm and have patience," said Cid. "The delay gave us time to complete the aetheric ram. Also your friends needed rest."
Alphinaud folded his arms.
Arden examined the ram, pretending to understand what he was looking at. But actually he examined Cid, taking in the sure, strong way he talked and moved.
"You seem much recovered," said Arden in a low voice.
Cid grinned a little. "All I needed was my beloved machines and it all came flooding back." He looked up at the Au Ra. "Remember when you healed my head, back in Coerthas? That was the beginning. You mended something important up there and my body did the rest. I can't thank you enough, my friend."
Arden grinned and slapped his shoulder. "We needed your brains to work so you could fly the Enterprise for us, that's all. Completely mercenary reasons."
Cid laughed. "Whatever the reason, I'll take it."
On Arden's other side, Z'mona pulled a folded paper from his pocket. "Arden, read this!" He was practically jumping up and down.
Arden suspected what it was, but took his time unfolding the paper. "Let's see, what could this be? An invitation to a party with the Sultana? A letter from a girl?" He shook it open and read it, unable to hold back a grin. "Oh well. Looks like some goldsmith is offering you an apprenticeship."
"Godbert Manderville accepted me as his next student!" Z'mona exclaimed, dancing in place. "Starting next month, I'm to take his apprentice quarters at the Manderville Mansion and begin work with the master!"
"Congratulations," said Arden with a formal bow and handshake. Then he laughed, grabbed Z'mona in a hug, and rumpled his hair and ears. "You deserve it, you lousy cat!"
"Hey, not the ears!" Z'mona laughed, struggling free. He straightened his shirt and combed his fingers through his dark hair. His smile faded. "I wish we hadn't had to leave Maggie behind. She was a spectacular piece of engineering. The Garleans will likely pull her to pieces and destroy the heart."
Arden had thought about this a lot over the last few days. It hurt him, but they had no other choice but to leave her.
"She bought us time to escape," Arden said, dropping a hand on Z'mona's shoulder. "She went out like a hero, which is more than I ever expected from a mammet reaper. Let her go, and build something even better."
Z'mona nodded and sighed, looking as if this did not console him, but he appreciated the effort. He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. "I have a month to wrap up my duties with the Scions. I'd like to help you fight Garuda."
Arden winced and glanced at Alphinaud. "I'm afraid she'd temper you. It'll just be Arenvald and me."
"Yes, we can allow those without the Echo no closer than two hundred fulms," said Alphinaud. "Urianger has been researching Garuda since his return. She sends out blasts of tempering power on a whim, for she is temperamental and unstable. However, for all her power, she is delicate. A couple of good sword strokes will destroy her."
"I still want to help," said Z'mona stubbornly. "I can work the aetheric ram or something."
"We can always use your help on the airship," said Cid. "I was going to play taxi then watch the show from a safe distance. Biggs and Wedge are acting as crew again."
Z'mona smiled at last. "I could do that!"
"All we're waiting for is for Arenvald to return with the right crystal," Cid said. "Then we'll go deal with the Garuda problem."
After all the preparation it had taken to fight Titan, Arden felt as if Garuda was almost an afterthought. He exercised his chocobo that morning and found the worries leaking in around the corners of his mind. With Titan, they had recruited the entire thaumaturge guild. But he and Arenvald were supposed to face Garuda on their own? He had thought that rescuing the Scions would fix everything. Instead he kept remembering Lahabrea's mocking words before he bespelled the dragon in the Stone Vigil.
"And you are aware that Garuda's strength greatly exceeds that of your previous primal conquests? ...A testament to the fanatical devotion of her followers. The Ixal are nothing if not zealous."
Would the Ascian have said such a thing if a few sword strokes would suffice? Arden doubted it.
Arenvald arrived at noon by aetheryte, looking tired and in need of a bath. He carried with him a crystal caked in dried blood and other fluids, and it stank. As Cid accepted it with gloves, the Hyur said, "A Spriggan had eaten the bloody thing. Had to kill it and cut it open to get the crystal out, never want to do that again."
"Well, it won't matter once it's installed in the aetheric ram," said Cid, carrying it to the workbench. "Better go clean up, they'll want us to start right away."
Arden found Arenvald in the inn's common room an hour later. The Hyur had bathed and cleaned the worst of his armor, and now was packing away the inn's popular lunch platter. His fair hair was still damp and combed away from his face for once, revealing the scar on his forehead.
Arden sat across from him with his own platter. "Tell me about your crystal hunt!"
Arenvald grunted. "Nothing but a wild dodo-chase. Handling dangerous corrupted crystal is bad enough without finding that it's the wrong stuff. These researchers are so smart, yet they sent me after wind, then earth, then lightning, before they finally woke up and realized I needed ice. I'm ready to hack up a primal to vent my frustration."
"Can we take her?" Arden asked in a low voice. "They said that only you and I will be allowed to fight her."
"Sure," said Arenvald. "I've been learning magic to augment my fighting style. They say there's paladins so strong that they seek out powerful voidsent and defeat them one on one for practice. I'm not that strong yet, but I'm eager to try. All I need is you and your lilies, Arden. Although I'd appreciate a little quick conjury to injure her, too. She won't take kindly to stone spikes."
"I'll do what I can," said Arden. "I haven't had much time to practice since the Waking Sands was hit."
Arenvald sobered and gazed at his plate for a moment. "We lost so many good people. I don't know what we'll do now."
"I was lucky to save Z'mona," said Arden, tracing a pattern on the tabletop. "We saved the hostages, but so many more were killed. I'm not sure how we can save Eorzea without enough support staff."
"I'm sure Minfilia will find more," said Arenvald, his old grin returning. "She's an expert at spotting strays with plenty of potential buried inside them. Must be the Echo."
Arden nodded. "Not sure I'll get used to any new Scions in a hurry."
"Me neither, to tell the truth," Arenvald said, taking a huge bite of a toasted sandwich. He chewed for a moment, studying the sandwich as if it contained the secrets of the universe. Then he seemed to shake off his gloomy thoughts and looked up. "Let's deal with Garuda first. Chin up, eh?"
"Right," said Arden. "Maybe later we can check out that crystal tower, too. The one outside Revenant's Toll where the lakeside is all crystallized."
"I've been out there before," said Arenvald. "There's a team studying it, but it's locked down tight. Ancient Allegan tech, you know. Nobody knows how it works."
Arden had heard bits and pieces about the Allegan Empire, which collapsed sometime around the Fourth Umbral Calamity, but he didn't know much about it. He shrugged and nodded, a noncommittal gesture that did nothing to betray his lack of knowledge. "We might have to lend them a hand sometime. After we put down Garuda."
"After Garuda," Arenvald agreed.
The Ixal beast tribe, humanoid flightless bird-people, had plagued both the forests of the Black Shroud and Coerthas for years. The eternal winter that had set in over the mountains had barely fazed them. For some reason, they had summoned their wind goddess in Coerthas instead of the forests. In the Shroud, Garuda could have fed upon rich earth and water aether. But in Coerthas, where ice aether had replaced most other types, she was slowly starving. Her worshipers had brought her plenty of crystals, of course, but they were not enough. She needed aether from the land, but as a primal of wind, ice was the element opposed to her.
The Ixal were zealous, but not particularly bright.
But Garuda was resourceful. They told her of the way a god slayer had arisen and had destroyed both Ifrit and Titan using forbidden white magic. She thought about this as she wove protective nets of wind about herself and the sacred place of her summoning.
"A god slayer could not contend with all three of us," she mused. "And it's inevitable that he will come for me. Therefore I will prepare for our clash and lay plans. Should I be defeated, the god slayer will not depart these mountains alive."
She gathered the Ixal chiefs and gave them her orders. She considered tempering them a bit more, but she needed their minds to still somewhat function. They set off at once, returning with stolen crystals and kidnapped members of the Amaljaa and kobold beast tribes. Garuda surveyed them and demanded more.
She was left to her own devices for weeks and never a sign of the god slayer appeared. Garuda killed a squadron of Ishgardian troops that appeared to fight her, laughing as she did so.
"You are trained to fight dragons, but how do you fight the wind personified?"
After that, the troops of Ishgard did not engage her again, but kept watch from a distance. They also kept the Ixal from bringing her more aether crystals, which infuriated her.
Garuda had mostly forgotten about the threat of godslayers at all, so busy was she with her wickedness. Then one morning an airship equipped with ice aether battered it's way through her wind nets and landed near the gates of the sacred site. Two men disembarked and entered, one carrying a sword and shield, the other wielding a staff.
"So, the godslayers have come!" Garuda screeched, swooping down to meet them. "Your hubris is strong! Do you see what I have done to others who have threatened me?" She gestured with a clawed hand to a pile of weapons and armor stripped from the dead soldiers.
The two men stared up at her. One was a fair Hyur, the other a dark Au Ra, both dressed for battle in armor that kept out her winds. Garuda spread her four wings and preened, running her claws through her feathered hair. Her whole body was clad in them, green and yellow, from her horned head to her hooved feet.
"Harpy?" asked one man.
"Satyr?" asked the other.
"I am Garuda!" she shrieked at them. "Mistress of the winds! You will bow before me ere the end!" She lashed them with tempering power, but as the Ixal had said, it had no effect. Garuda laughed, soaring upward through the eye of the storm she had built about her lair. She flipped over and dove upon the men, freeing her sharpest feathers as she went. She halted above them and her feathers sliced through armor and flesh. The men screamed. Garuda laughed and set upon them with her claws and great buffets from her wings.
To her outrage, the men fought back, one with sword, one with magic. They protected each other, and the mage healed his brother with numerous lilies of white magic.
Swords were nothing new to Garuda, but the use of rare white magic fanned her fury to new heights. She drew the wind net in tighter, beating at them with her full strength. She succeeded in knocking them flat, but the paladin protected himself and his brother with his shield. Even her razor feathers only glanced off it.
Then the mage cast lilies upon Garuda that wound about her limbs and burned her, dragging her earthward. She screamed and struggled, cursing the White Mages of Amdapor and their flower magic, and cursing all those who followed in their paths.
The paladin was waiting for her. As she was dragged to earth, he slashed off her left underwing. The severed limb instantly turned to aether and dissolved, taking some of her strength with it. Garuda flailed in rage and pain, her winds rising in force with her anger. But she could not break free of the white magic that entrapped her or the lilies that bloomed across her arms and legs. She turned her rage upon the dark Au Ra mage and beat him backward with her wind, seeking to stun him and break his concentration upon his magic. She succeeded in knocking him down, and the lilies weakened. But before she could rend him with her claws, the paladin knocked her away with his shield. He followed it up with a sword thrust that pierced her breast and stabbed all the way through her core.
Garuda uttered a piercing shriek and dropped to the ground, where she huddled in a ruin of drooping wings and feathers. The paladin helped the mage to his feet, who bestowed healing lilies upon them both. Then they faced Garuda.
Around them, the net of wind faded to a mere breeze. The Ixal rushed in and howled in rage that their goddess was defeated. In the distance, the watchful Ishgardian troops straightened and gave a cautious cheer. An airship droned in the distance.
"You think you have defeated me," Garuda gasped through her teeth. "But our game has only begun, Warriors of Light!" She flung out a clawed hand to the Ixal high priest. "Bring pain upon the captives so that they cry to their gods!"
The paladin and mage turned in horror to behold the Amaljaa and kobold captives, who had been hidden by Garuda's wind. The Ixal attacked them with clubs, beating them until the beastmen cried out for mercy. The Amaljaa entreated the aid of Ifrit, the kobolds cried to Titan.
At once the crates of crystals stacked throughout the Ixal stronghold began to glow and evaporate into aether. Ifrit and Titan began to take shape behind Garuda.
The Warriors of Light backed away, hiding behind the Paladin's shield.
"We can't take all three of them," said the paladin.
"We can't merely flee!" argued the mage. "The damage they'll do is beyond imagining!"
Garuda smiled from the depths of her pain. The prayers of her own worshipers were already healing her, mending the mortal wound that should have slain her. She was weakened, yes, but she would regain her strength. And then, together with Ifrit and Titan, they would conquer the mountains and lowlands together.
Ifrit and Titan manifested and hit the ground side by side, roaring in triumph as they were given form. The Warriors of Light beat a hasty retreat toward the gates.
Overhead, the drone of the airship grew louder. Garuda looked up to see a Garlean carrier arriving, bearing beneath it an immense black machine. The machine dropped to the ground, spreading a pair of cloth wings to soften it's landing. Upon it's back rode a huge man in black armor. He leaped to the ground and paced toward Garuda like a predator stalking it's prey.
"Is that all?" the man bellowed. "O lady of the vortex, O mighty Garuda, I ask again, is that all?"
"Is that all?" Garuda squealed, staggering to her feet. "Insolent mortal, I shall make you suffer! The foul stench of Her touch does not linger about you, as it does them!"
Garuda pointed at the man and his great black machine, which towered above her like a dragon of steel. "Ifrit! Titan! Crush him! Pound him! Do not kill him too swiftly, lest we miss his cries for mercy!"
Ifrit bounded forward, a lithe, athletic demon of flame. But before he could reach the man, the black machine snatched up the primal in one clawed hand. Its snake-like jaws opened and it crammed Ifrit into them. The primal had time for a single roar of terror before melting into aether. The machine swallowed it and red streaks began to glow along it's sides.
Garuda stood aghast. Before she could say a word, Titan charged like a moving mountain, fists clenched and ready to pulverize the man in black armor. Again, the machine struck first. Seizing Titan in both claws, it devoured him as it had Ifrit, drinking up his potent aether. Yellow lines and circles began to glow across it's metal body.
The man in armor turned his attention to Garuda. "Strong you may be," he said to her, "but that only serves to make the Ultima Weapon stronger."
Garuda turned to flee, but the Weapon took two strides and caught her around the waist. Her last sight was of those deadly jaws opening. Then she was devoured, her aether flowing into the machine. Green lines of power flowed along its length, and a pair of Garuda's wings opened above its back.
Arden and Arenvald had escaped out the gate that was supposed to keep trespassers from reaching Garuda. But they halted and turned to watch in horrified fascination as the Ultima Weapon devoured three primals, one after the other.
Cid Garlond, Alphinaud, and Z'mona leaped from the docked Enterprise and ran to the gate to watch, too. As the Weapon finished off Garuda, Cid's gaze settled on the man in armor. "Gaius?" he blurted.
"That's Gaius Van Baelsar?" Alphinaud whispered. "The Black Wolf himself? Legatus of the whole Fourteenth Legion?"
Baelsar turned and regarded them, his helmet an expressionless mask. "Cid Garlond," he said with a note of scornful surprise. "I had believed you dead."
"Not quite," said Cid, striding forward. "What is the meaning of this? What have you done?"
Arden followed Cid into the open a few steps, his staff at the ready. Should the enemy of all Eorzea attack Cid, Arden would treat him to a gift of stone spikes.
But Baelsar didn't act hostile. He folded his arms and seemed to consider Cid's words. "Ancient Allag had ways of dealing with troublesome eikons. You have just witnessed a fraction of their power."
"But why?" Cid exclaimed. "What could it possibly accomplish? Don't you remember the folly of drawing the moon Dalmud down upon us and summoning Bahamut? And now you seek to do it again!"
"The Ultima Weapon is securely under my control," said Baelsar. "Fear not that it shall wantonly destroy the world again. Nay, I shall only use it to bring Eorzea to its knees. The rulers of every city-state will surrender in the face of it's power, or I shall raze them to the ground." He spoke as if this was as casual and expected as receiving the morning mail. Then he stepped forward and added, "Come with me, Cid. I could benefit from your expertise. The Ultima Weapon holds many mysteries we have yet to unlock. Even your old friend Nero has made little headway."
Cid's hands clenched into fists at his sides. He seemed to waver between his old life and his new, swaying a little as each tugged at him. Arden watched him anxiously.
At last Cid said, "No, Gaius. I swore to improve lives through technology, not take them. What you've done, mixing primal magic with machine, is what led to the downfall of the Allegan Empire in the first place."
"Suit yourself," said Baelsar with a shrug. "I suppose I'll have to take you hostage once open war is joined. Believe me, you will not turn your back on your people so easily."
Baelsar gestured at the Ultima Weapon. It lowered a taloned hand, and Baelsar stepped into it. The Weapon lifted him, the claws enclosing him like railings, and beat its mismatched wings. A surge of wind aether lifted it off the ground, and it flew off in the direction of Castrum Centri, followed by its airship.
Arden and Cid stared after it in silence. Then Cid turned. "Everyone, back on the Enterprise. The Ixal will be out for blood after this defeat."
Everyone hurriedly scrambled aboard the airship. Cid ignited the engines and soon they were airborne, sailing over the white snow of Coerthas with the engine a steady hum at their backs.
"By the Twelve!" Alphinaud burst out. "That machine has the power of three primals at once! Imagine what it would do to the armies of the city-states?"
"Dammit, Gaius," Cid muttered under his breath. "I knew the man would never abandon his ambitions, but this is beyond my worst expectations. What has he been doing these past five years? How could something of this magnitude have escaped the Alliance's attention?"
"We heard rumors, of course," said Alphinaud. "There was talk of super weapons like Ultima and Omega. But we had little to no intelligence, beyond our brief sighting at Castrum Centri. And who could have known the thing was capable of devouring primals?"
"Where did he find that thing?" Cid burst out. "He said it was a relic of Ancient Allag, or as good as did. Garlemald has no tech for primal enslavement, or they didn't."
"Garlean forces have been rooting around the ruins at Cartineau," Alphinaud said. "When Dalmud struck Eorzea, it tore open the earth so deeply that the ruins of an Allegan installation were uncovered. Every member of the Alliance has bickered over them ever since, like three dogs with one bone."
Arden sat in his seat, listening to this discussion with black fear in his heart. On his left, Arenvald sat with his sword and shield before his knees, also listening with his head bowed. On Arden's right sat Z'mona, curled in his seat so tightly that he looked much smaller than he was. His cat ears were pointed toward Cid and Alphinaud, and he gripped the armrest with both hands.
Arden's heart stirred with pity. He put an arm around Z'mona and murmured, "When we return, I'll escort you to Ul'dah. You'll be safe there."
"Nowhere is safe," the catboy whispered. "That … Ultima-thing ate three primals. Castrum Centri is four day's march from Ul'dah, and that thing can fly. There's no way we can fight it!"
"Z'mona, listen to me," said Arden, forcing courage into his voice that he wished he had. "The Scions will take this information straight to the heads of the Alliance. They have far more resources than we do. We'll strike at the Garleans so hard, they'll never see what hit them. And I promise to deal with the Ultima weapon myself."
Z'mona looked up at Arden with tears in his eyes. "But you'll die! You're a healer!"
"I'll be with him," Arenvald said from Arden's other side. "Between us, we've taken out Ifrit, Titan, and Garuda before. We know how they fight. The Ultima weapon can't do anything to us that we haven't already seen."
Z'mona tried to smile and dried his eyes on his shirt. "Thanks," he said, his voice cracking. "I want to help as much as I can. But I can't face that Weapon."
"You won't have to," said Arden. He gave Arenvald a desperate look as if to ask, "Will he?"
"We've got this," said the paladin with a thumbs up. "But we're going to need lots of planning and support, and that's what you're best at, right, Z'mona?"
The catboy sat up, shaking off Arden's arm. "That's right. I can plan and strategize, and, and I could even sneak into places and watch."
"That's the spirit," said Arden. He felt a little better, himself, some of the blind panic receding. He straightened and drew a deep breath. "All we need to do now is return to Mor Dhona and tell Minfilia what happened."
Minfilia met with the Scions in her room at the inn. She had had a few square meals and had begun catching up on sleep, so her smile was almost back to its old self. She was relieved to see the team return intact, but her smile faded as they described the Ultima Weapon and what it had done.
"It devoured the primals?" Minfilia exclaimed. She turned to Urianger, who sat nearby with a book in which he was taking notes. "What sort of machine can devour and utilize the power of a primal?"
"I know not," the tall Elezen replied. "However, I intend to consult my colleagues among the Students of Baldesion upon my return to the Waking Sands. But I'm afraid our research on Ancient Allag may be slim."
Minfilia shook her head and turned to her friends. "Thancred's fate already weighed heavily on my mind, and now this."
"What do we do?" Arden asked. "Can we save Thancred?"
Y'shtola spoke up. "I've already explained to them about the dark crystal he wears about his neck. We can do nothing at present except to pray that Thancred's spirit prevails against the Ascian's."
Minfilia thought in silence for a long moment. Arden watched her and fidgeted with his shortstaff. He wanted to fight, to hurl himself into danger on behalf of his friends, but he wasn't sure in what direction to run. He thought of trying to rescue Thancred, only for the Ascian to lay the same curse upon him that the unicorn had saved him from. This time he would have no unicorn at his side, and even Esuna might not be able to purge such powerful magic.
Minfilia raised her head at last. Her clear blue eyes surveyed them all. "We must deal with the aftermath of the Ultima Weapon's empowerment. To that end, I believe we must seek an audience with the leaders of the Eorzean Alliance at once, before Van Baelsar can make a move. It would not do for them to surrender out of panic, not when there is hope of defeating him."
"We should return to Ul'dah and the Waking Sands, then," said Alphinaud. "I will arrange an audience with the Sultana, and from there we shall move on to Limsa Lominsa and Gridania. The Alliance needs to know that the Scions of the Seventh Dawn have returned, and that our mission to save Eorzea remains unchanged."
Minfilia smiled at him. "Yes please, Alphinaud." She turned to the others. "Make ready to depart. I would like to return to the Waking Sands by sundown. Arden, please remain, I would like a word with you."
Everyone else filed out, leaving the towering Au Ra and the woman alone. Minfilia nodded at a chair. "Have a seat, my friend."
Arden had been standing in a combat stance without realizing it. Now he made himself sit, although he still could not relax, and forced a smile. "Apologies. It's been a tough few days."
"Are you all right?" Minfilia asked in a low voice. "They told me that you were the first into the Waking Sands after the attack, and you saved Z'mona's life."
Arden bowed his head and studied the floorboards. "Yes."
"Yes, you were first, or yes, you're all right?"
Arden lifted his head and met her blue eyes. "Yes, I was first." He let the rest of the question hang in the air, unanswered.
Minfilia's voice was even softer. "Have you talked to anyone about it?"
"Who would I talk to?" Arden clenched his fists against the arms of his chair. "The Scion staff are dead. Arenvald was in fear for his life. Alphinaud cares for nothing but primals, and Y'shtola sees only my healing magic and naught else. Cid knows only machines, and you were locked away. There was no one else."
Minfilia gazed at him a moment. Then she rose from her chair, crossed the room, and hugged him. Since he was sitting down, she was the right height for this.
No one had hugged Arden that way since he had bade his mother goodbye. He had a sudden, vivid memory of kneeling on the floor of the yurt so his tiny mother could hug his neck and pat his back, the way she had when he had been small. She had not cried, but the tears had gleamed in her eyes when she drew away. He had tried not to think about her throughout the long sea voyage to Eorzea, and later had kept himself busy to avoid thinking of home.
But now here was Minfilia, hugging him and patting his back exactly as his mother had. Arden didn't mean to, but he rested his head on her shoulder and heaved a sob that seemed to come from the depths of his being.
"It's all right," Minfilia murmured. "Let it out if you need to."
The next several minutes were not something Arden was proud of, but it released a horrible burden of grief and guilt he'd been carrying. Minfilia held him and patted his back, occasionally stroking his thick black hair, as if he was a small child and not a grown Auri man nearly twice her size.
When he began to calm down, she withdrew to her chair again. "Tell me about it," she said gently. "I last spoke to you after you defeated Titan."
Arden poured out the story of visiting the Gold Saucer in celebration, only to find that this decision had cost nearly everyone in the Waking Sands their lives. He talked about the horrible guilt that had only made his survivor's guilt about Ifrit that much worse. He described the awful events of Coerthas and of unmasking an imposter among the inquisition. Then he vented his bitterness against Y'shtola for patronizing him for being 'only a healer'. He ended with his latest guilt over Thancred, and of losing Maggie, the mammet-hearted Garlean reaper.
"Of all things," he said with his face in his hands. "Losing a bloody reaper should matter the least in the grand scheme of things. But she was my friend, and I abandoned her to her death. It's worse than finding out about Thancred. His fate wasn't my fault, but Maggie's was."
"There was nothing you could do," Minfilia told him softly. "The reaper wouldn't have fit on the airship, and she couldn't have made the jump, anyway. She fought the Garleans for us, so we should be grateful for her sacrifice."
"I don't want to sacrifice anyone else," Arden moaned. "Minfilia, how do I continue? I trained as a healer so I might save lives. Instead, I seem surrounded by death."
"We've all lost people," Minfilia said sadly. "My father died in front of me during a parade accident when I was a child. Thancred looked after me from that day on. Now his fate burns my heart, but there is nothing I can do for now. All we can do is lean on our faith that our gods have a purpose in all this. In the end, all we can do is keep fighting the good fight–for those we have lost. For those we can yet save."
Arden sat with his head bowed as these words sank into his heart. He had so badly needed to talk this out with someone, and now, at last, he had a friend to support him. The awful grief faded to a manageable level instead of swamping him in its black sea. Faith. Yes, he could lean on his faith. For those he had lost. For those he could yet save.
Slowly he lifted his head and met Minfilia's gaze. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For letting me talk about it."
"You're welcome, Arden," said Minfilia with a smile. "I know we Scions rely on Arenvald as our Warrior of Light. But in many ways, you have long surpassed him. I'm not sure when the others will see it, Y'shtola especially. She tends to take a narrow view of the abilities of others. But I see you struggling alone, and my heart bleeds. You should have as much support as we give our paladin, yet somehow, you don't. I intend to change that in the coming days."
"Thank you, but I don't need it," said Arden, rising to his feet. "I'm doing just fine by myself."
Minfilia rose to her feet, too. "According to everything you've told me, you are the farthest thing from fine, dear Arden. Please don't push us away when we offer you help and friendship."
Arden's face grew warm in shame. He hung his head. "I'll try."
"Good," said Minfilia. "Best pack your things. We'll be leaving soon."