Cultivation is Creation
Chapter 276: Butterflies

The third day of training dawned clear and bright.

I'd spent the previous evening reviewing what I'd learned, mentally dissecting the process of creation and identifying where my technique failed when attempting to animate the butterfly.

When I arrived, Kal was already painting, his brush moving in gentle arcs across a large scroll spread on the floor rather than the table. He didn't look up when I entered, completely absorbed in his work.

I waited silently, watching his technique. Each stroke flowed seamlessly into the next, his movements so fluid they almost resembled a dance. The image taking shape was a small garden scene: a flowering bush, a stone path, and what appeared to be the beginning of a pond.

Finally, Kal set down his brush and looked up, seeming almost surprised to find me there. "Ah, Tomas. Good morning. I was just preparing something for our lesson today."

"It's beautiful," I said, indicating the half-finished painting. "Will we be working on landscapes today?"

"Not yet," Kal shook his head, rising gracefully to his feet. "This is for a later demonstration. Today, we're returning to insects, but with a change in approach."

He gestured to the table, where I was surprised to find not scrolls and brushes, but a small glass container. Inside, a real butterfly, not a Lightweaver creation but an actual living insect, fluttered against the transparent walls. However, with how realistic Kal’s creations were, I could totally be wrong.

"Sometimes," Kal explained, "the best way to understand the essence of something is to observe it directly. Before you try to create again, I want you to study this butterfly, not just its appearance, but its movements, the rhythm of its wings, how it responds to its environment."

I approached the container, watching as the butterfly, a striking specimen with wings that shimmered between blue and purple depending on how the light struck them, flitted from one side to the other.

"It's beautiful," I said honestly. "I've never seen one with coloring like this."

"It's a Blue Empress," Kal informed me. "They're native to the eastern forests, where the blue sun's influence is particularly strong. Their chrysalises absorb blue sun energy, which infuses their wings with these iridescent patterns."

For the next hour, Kal had me observe the butterfly from various angles, sketching it repeatedly to internalize its proportions and movements. He explained the mechanics of butterfly flight, the relationship between wing shape and aerial maneuverability, even the significance of different wing patterns.

"Now," he said finally, "I want you to try again. But this time, instead of thinking of the butterfly as an object to be created, think of it as an extension of your own energy, a part of yourself taking temporary form in the world."

I selected a brush and began to paint, trying to incorporate everything I'd observed into the image. This time, I focused not just on the butterfly's appearance but on capturing a sense of the life force I'd witnessed in the real insect.

When I channeled energy into the painting, I felt a different kind of connection form, less like pushing against resistance and more like guiding a current along a natural channel. The butterfly lifted from the page, its wings opening and closing in a rhythm that mirrored the live specimen's movements.

"Yes!" Kal encouraged. "Keep the connection steady. Don't try to control its every movement, set a general intention and let it follow its nature."

My creation fluttered around the room, its movements becoming more natural by the second. It circled my head once, then flew to a nearby flower arrangement, where it perched momentarily before taking flight again.

"Excellent," Kal beamed. "You've crossed an important threshold. Your creation has autonomy within the parameters you've established."

The butterfly continued its flight for nearly thirty seconds before gradually dissolving into blue motes that scattered like dust in a sunbeam. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, feeling a strange mixture of elation and exhaustion.

"That was... different," I said. "It felt more like guiding than creating."

"Precisely," Kal nodded approvingly. "That's the essence of higher Lightweaving. We don't force our will upon reality, we invite aspects of potential reality to manifest through us. The Blue Sun's energy doesn't create something from nothing; it reveals what could be."

We spent the remainder of the morning practicing with increasingly complex insects: bees with articulated legs and transparent wings, dragonflies with iridescent bodies, even a small beetle with an intricate carapace pattern. Each manifestation lasted longer than the last, and by midday, I could maintain a creation for nearly a full minute.

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As we paused for tea, Kal's questions shifted once again to my background.

"Lady Laelyn found you after the raid on your village, is that correct?" he asked, his tone casual as he poured steaming liquid into delicate cups.

"Yes," I confirmed, accepting the offered tea. "I was hiding in the forest when her party passed by on the road."

"Fortunate timing," Kal observed, watching me over the rim of his cup. "The odds of a noble's entourage passing so soon after a raid must be remarkably slim."

"I suppose it was fortune," I agreed, sipping the tea to hide my wariness. "Or perhaps the Blue Sun's guidance, as some have suggested."

"And Lady Laelyn took you into her service immediately?" Kal pressed. "Without knowing your background or abilities?"

I set down my cup, considering how to respond. This line of questioning was clearly designed to probe for inconsistencies in my story. I needed to provide enough detail to seem truthful without creating contradictions with what Laelyn might have reported. But more importantly, I had to remember to retrace my steps in future loops, so Kal doesn’t suspect my identity as a looper.

"Not immediately," I said honestly. "Her guard captain, Beric, was suspicious of me at first. Thought I might be a plant from a rival house or even a raider spy. Lady Laelyn overruled him, but I was kept under close observation for the first few days."

"Understandable precautions," Kal nodded. "The noble houses play dangerous games with one another. One can never be too careful."

"Lady Laelyn seemed... different," I ventured, watching Kal's reaction. "Less concerned with those games than with genuine compassion."

A flicker of something, recognition or agreement, passed across Kal's face. "Yes, House Vareyn has that reputation. Lady Laelyn particularly so." He paused, seeming to consider something. "Her grandmother was much the same before her passing. Too honorable for court politics, many said."

This was interesting. Kal spoke of Laelyn's family with what appeared to be genuine familiarity. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had drawn closer to her in previous loops.

"The journey to the academy must have been educational for someone from a small village," Kal continued, smoothly changing direction. "What were your impressions of the world beyond Porvale?"

"Overwhelming, at first," I admitted, which was truthful enough. This world was indeed a constant barrage of new information to process. "The cities especially: the architecture, the crowds, the noise. Nothing like village life."

"And the Blue Sun Academy? Your first impressions?"

I gestured to the window, where the academy's elegant spires rose against the blue sky. "How could anyone not be awed? I'd never imagined buildings that seemed to defy gravity, gardens with plants that respond to thought, scholars creating life with brushstrokes." I shook my head in genuine wonder. "It's like stepping into a different world entirely."

He didn't know just how true that statement was.

Kal seemed pleased with this response. "The wonder never entirely fades, even after centuries. I still find new marvels to appreciate, new depths to explore in the Blue Sun's gifts."

Gifts? Either he was playing the role of a puppet, or he really was but a pawn for the Blue Sun.

The afternoon session continued our progress with insect creations, focusing now on maintaining multiple manifestations simultaneously. By the day's end, I could create three butterflies that flew in coordinated patterns for nearly two minutes before dissolving.

"You're advancing remarkably quickly," Kal observed as we concluded the day's training. "Tomorrow, we'll attempt something more challenging, a small mammal, perhaps. The complexity increases substantially with higher life forms."

"Thank you for your guidance today,” I bowed gratefully. “The new approach made a significant difference."

As I turned to leave, Kal called after me, "Oh, and Tomas? I've been meaning to ask, how exactly did you come to select painting as your Lightweaver discipline? Most candidates have preferences based on prior exposure or natural inclinations."

Another probe, carefully timed for the end of the session when my guard might be lower.

"I didn't know much about any of the disciplines," I answered carefully. "But when the choices were explained, painting seemed the most... versatile. I've always enjoyed creating things with my hands, even if it was just carving simple designs on wood back in the village."

Kal nodded, apparently satisfied. "A good instinct. Each discipline has its strengths, but painting does offer particular flexibility. Sleep well. Tomorrow will be…interesting."

I blinked in response, wondering what he had in mind for our next lesson.