The Kingfisher

XXXII : Arden

Arden didn't waste time gawking at the scenery.

His feet hammered against the muddy ground of the all-too-familiar graveyard. The sky had unfolded, letting rain pour onto the soil, his skin, the melancholic gravestones. It wasn't like the last time he was here; a storm was coming then, thunder was cracking in the sky. Now the droplets bouncing off his skin were few and far between, yet the impact they managed to have on him was much more detrimental.

With a scowl, he stormed past Miran's grave. The persistent tug of his heartstrings would plague his chest for the rest of his life, he was well aware. Yet after Musha, after the Kingfisher, after Nora, her smoldering body blurred into all the other strangled corpses in his memory.

He almost wanted to thank her for every emotion she shoved him through. She died, he killed her, and now he knew where the artifact was. Nothing could ever make him regret it.

The wicked stone appeared before him, three words carved sloppily on its surface; Halal di Madar. Bird of Freedom. How could he have missed it? How could he have let his Mushan slip away from his grasp, simply to give way to the memory of a dead girl? He dropped to his knees and grasped the shovel clutched under his armpit. Without hesitation, he dug.

It was hard to believe, at first. Lumi Dorona's men couldn't have been this smart and foolish at the same time. They feared people would come for the Kingfisher once the news of its disappearance spread, and so they buried it in a nameless graveyard, far from the bustle of Karahi. Surely enough, they were soon all blown up. The part where they engraved the name on the tablet, though, was what boggled Arden. Did they want it to be found? Were they merely stupid?

Think less, shovel more. So he dug on. Minutes, hours, eternities passed. His arms burned, his feet were sore, and his mind was left alone with its own thoughts — the worst kind of torture. What would happen if he walked out with the artifact? Everyone had their own plan in mind; Salo wanted money, Nora wanted recognition, Ailyn wanted to wipe her own kind from the face of the earth. It was a conversation they had long ago, when things were different. Now it couldn't have been made more candid to him; none of that would happen. Salo would stay in Frya. Nora would return to her job, if she hadn't been dismissed already. And Ailyn — he wasn't sure. Perhaps she would help the Resistance, as Arden intended to do. It was the only way to give meaning to this quite meaningless struggle.

Yet what if he didn't uphold his bargain with Iona? What if he disappeared with the artifact, sold it, and done what he had wanted to do ever since? The thought didn't resonate with him as much as it would have a month ago. Whoever the buyer was, they would deliver the artifact straight to Kage's door eventually. And lately, the boy had been concerned with the world's welfare more than normal.

Maybe it was because this world meant something now. Because it housed people much more precious than any dirty penny could ever be.

When the sun sunk beneath the soil, a significant amount of dirt had accumulated next to his panting figure. Still, no sign of the artifact. What was it meant to look like? What if there was nothing in there? What if the grave only hosted a poor man dubbed a rich name? Arden shook his head,  his sweat lost in the waterfall of rain slipping down his cheeks. 'What if's were for people who could afford the worst, and he could afford nothing, really.

The rain soon ended with a few last sad plings on the gravestones. And then, just when the sun's weak rays were curiously peeking over the Mushan mountain range,  Arden's shovel smashed against something solid.

His pulse went into overdrive as he tried to keep his fingers from trembling. The thought that the subject of his agony was under just a few scoops of dirt both terrified him and stirred him to the point where his arms froze, unsure of what to do. There was no reason to hesitate, yet he did. It was a mistake.