Cultivation is Creation
Chapter 265: Chosen or Condemned?

The crystal steps leading up to the Cerulean Apex were unlike anything I'd seen. Each one seemed to be carved from a single massive sapphire, transparent enough that I could see wisps of blue energy flowing beneath the surface like frozen rivers.

As we ascended, I felt a subtle vibration through the soles of my feet, almost as if the staircase itself were alive, resonating with the footsteps of the chosen.

Elder Sorrin led our procession with a ceremonial staff held high. Behind him walked four other elders, their faces hidden beneath hoods, their steps perfectly synchronized. I followed several paces behind them, wearing ceremonial robes that had been hastily altered to fit me.

The whole scene, the matching outfits, the synchronized movements, the reverent silence, was exactly what you'd expect from devoted followers marching their sacrifice to some ancient altar.

All that was missing was the ominous chanting.

"This is unfortunate," Azure murmured in my mind. "Very unfortunate."

"That's putting it mildly," I replied silently. "We've managed to accomplish exactly the opposite of our goal."

"At least we won't have to worry about access to restricted knowledge anymore," Azure offered. "As Saint, you'll have free rein to explore the most sacred texts."

"If we survive long enough to read them," I countered. "Kal will notice this anomaly immediately. The only question is whether he'll act right away or wait to understand what's happening."

As we neared the summit, the staircase widened, opening onto a circular platform paved with the same blue crystal. At its center stood the Cerulean Apex, a structure that seemed to be formed from living crystal.

Elder Sorrin paused at the entrance, lowering his staff respectfully. "Honored Saint," he called, his voice carrying a reverence I hadn't heard before. "We bring before you the chosen of the Blue Sun, the one who shall inherit your sacred mantle."

For a moment, there was silence.

Then a soft voice replied from within, "Enter, and be welcome in the house of light."

We proceeded inside, the other elders forming a semicircle behind me as I stood at the center of what appeared to be a grand meditation hall. The ceiling arched high above, composed of interlocking crystal facets that somehow captured and magnified the blue sun's light without being painfully bright. The floor beneath our feet was inlaid with an elaborate mosaic depicting the history of the world, or at least, the version taught by the Order of the First Light.

And there, standing before us, was Saint Icarus.

I had expected someone imposing, a figure of strength and wisdom radiating divine authority. What I saw instead was a man with one foot in the grave. It seems they really weren’t exaggerating when they said the saint needed to be replaced.

His skin had a translucent quality that reminded me of rice paper held before a flame. His robes hung loosely on his emaciated frame, and his eyes were sunken into dark hollows. Despite this, he carried himself with dignity, his back straight, his hands steady as he raised them in formal greeting.

"So," he said, his voice surprisingly strong despite his frail appearance, "you are the one the Blue Sun has chosen."

I bowed deeply, partly out of respect, partly to hide my reaction to his appearance. "I am Tomas of Porvale Village, Honored Saint."

"Tomas of Porvale. A humble beginning for one who shall carry such a burden." A ghost of a smile touched his lips before he turned and guided us to a small seating area to one side of the chamber, where simple cushions had been arranged in a semicircle.

"Please, be seated," he said.

I took the cushion directly opposite him, while the elders arranged themselves on either side.

Only Elder Sorrin remained standing, positioned slightly behind and to the right of Saint Icarus, a symbolic placement that indicated his role as intermediary between the current Saint and the academy hierarchy.

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"Before we proceed with the ceremony itself," Saint Icarus began, "it is traditional for me to explain something of the duties and responsibilities that will soon be yours." He smiled gently. "Though I suspect you have little concept of what awaits you, young Tomas."

"I confess I don't, Honored Saint," I replied, deciding that honesty, or at least, partial honesty, was the best approach. "Until recently, I was simply a miller's son. The workings of the Blue Sun Order were known to me only through travelers' tales."

He nodded, seeming pleased with my response. "Refreshing candor. So many who come before me arrive burdened with preconceptions and ambitions." His washed-out blue eyes twinkled momentarily. "A clean slate, unburdened by the weight of expectation, may prove advantageous."

I nodded, keeping my expression attentive but neutral.

In truth, my thoughts were racing in entirely different directions. The ceremony itself concerned me far less than what would come after – Kal.

What would his reaction be? Would he see me as a curious divergence in the timeline, or as a threat to be eliminated? And how could I possibly explain my situation if confronted? I'd have to carefully craft a persona, one that would satisfy his curiosity without revealing my true nature as an outsider.

Saint Icarus's voice brought me back to the present moment.

"The role of Saint is commonly misunderstood," he was saying, his hands folded in his lap. "Many believe it to be primarily ceremonial, presiding over important rituals, blessing new initiates, representing the Order in dealings with noble houses. These are indeed aspects of the position, but they are merely the visible surface."

He leaned forward slightly, his voice taking on a more intimate quality.

"The true purpose of the Saint is to serve as a conduit between our realm and the Blue Sun itself. You will be the vessel through which its wisdom flows, the bridge between celestial understanding and mortal comprehension."

One of the elders, a severe-looking woman with silver hair whom I recognized from the Selection, nodded. "The Saint is the voice of the First Light in our world."

"Indeed, Elder Mirel," Icarus acknowledged. "But even that description fails to capture the full truth." He turned back to me. "Young Tomas, have you ever wondered why our Order maintains the ancient trees throughout the realm?"

The question caught me off guard. I didn’t even know what trees he was referring to.

"I... assume they’re sacred to the Order, Honored Saint," I made an attempt at a logical guess.

He smiled, pleased with my response. "Sacred, yes, but not merely as objects of reverence. These are not ordinary trees. They are Worldroots, ancient living formations that help stabilize the energy of our realm and strengthen its protective barriers."

My eyes widened slightly. This wasn’t my first experience with mysterious trees. Excluding the Genesis Seed in my inner world, I had encountered realm-stabilising trees during my time at the Starhaven Realm.

"As Saint," Icarus continued, "one of your primary duties will be to tend to these Worldroots. The Blue Sun will guide you to them through visions and dreams, showing you when and how they require your attention."

I nodded, trying to look appropriately awed rather than concerned. Direct mental communication from a celestial body didn't sound particularly appealing. Would it be able to see into my mind? The thought was deeply unsettling.

"The visions..." I began cautiously. "How do they manifest?"

"Differently for each Saint," Icarus replied. "For some, they come as dreams during sleep. For others, as waking revelations. For me..." He paused, a shadow crossing his face. "For me, they are quite direct. The Blue Sun speaks to me as clearly as I speak to you now."

Something in his tone made me suspect that these communications weren't entirely pleasant experiences. The slight tightening around his eyes, the barely perceptible tension in his shoulders.

"The responsibilities sound... overwhelming," I said carefully.

Icarus's smile turned sad. "They can be, especially at first. But the Blue Sun would not have chosen you if you were not capable of bearing them."

I wasn't sure if that was meant to be reassuring. Given the Saint's deteriorated condition, the Blue Sun's support didn't seem particularly beneficial in the long term.

"There are also the political aspects of the position to consider," Elder Sorrin interjected, drawing my attention. "As Saint, you will have significant influence over the Order's direction and policies. Noble houses will seek your favor, fellow Lightweavers your guidance."

"And the Skybound?" I asked, intentionally prodding at what I knew was a sensitive topic. "What role does the Saint play in relations with the Red Sun Order?"

A tense silence followed my question. The elders exchanged glances, clearly uncomfortable.

"The Order of the Last Light," Elder Sorrin finally replied, using the formal designation for the Skybound, "is an aberration. They embrace corruption rather than clarity, violence rather than wisdom. They are not our partners but our adversaries."

"The Saint's position on this matter is unequivocal," added another elder. "We stand against their madness and destruction."

Something in their rigid responses suggested a dogma so ingrained that questioning it would be unthinkable. I glanced at Saint Icarus, curious about his reaction.

He was looking directly at me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought I detected something, a flicker of... what? Doubt? Warning? It was gone so quickly I couldn't be sure.

"The relationship between the Orders is... complex," Icarus said carefully. "More complex, perhaps, than anyone understands. But that is a discussion for another time."

Before any of the elders could respond to this somewhat cryptic statement, Icarus suddenly stiffened. His back arched, his hands gripping the edges of his cushion with white-knuckled intensity. His eyes rolled back in his head until only the whites showed.

Then, as if pulled by invisible strings, his head snapped forward, and those milk-white eyes fixed directly on me.