Chương 244: The Journal

The journey to the Blue Sun Academy continued without incident, which surprised me more than any ambush might have. After Lord Kaeven's gruesome murder and the conspiracy I'd overheard, I had expected... something. An attack from bandits, perhaps. Another assassination attempt. Maybe even an attack from a stray Skybound. But nothing came. The hours passed with excruciating normalcy as our caravan wound through forests and valleys, gradually ascending into the highlands where the Blue Sun Academy was said to stand.

The Lightweaver assigned to our carriage, the very one I'd overheard conspiring with Nevarn, had spent most of the journey in quiet prayer, his fingers tracing blue-glowing symbols in the air before his bowed head.

"Third time he's gone through the same sequence," Azure observed in my mind around midday.

"Either he's exceptionally devout, or he's trying to cleanse himself of something."

"Guilt, most likely," I responded silently.

"The Lord's death seems to have shaken his resolve. Killing nobility carries consequences even assassins fear." I watched the man from beneath lowered lashes, noting the tremor in his hands as he traced each luminous glyph. The symbols lingered in the air for heartbeats before dissolving into motes of cerulean light that drifted upward, as if drawn to the blue sun itself. A beautiful sight, despite the circumstances. The journey gave me ample time to contemplate my precarious position.

Here I was, a Skybound practitioner, an enemy of the very order I was approaching, hidden in the body of a miller's son, accompanying a Saintess candidate to the heart of Lightweaver territory. And not just any Skybound, but one who also had access to the blue sun's energy. A heretic by all accounts. If they discovered me, death would be the merciful outcome.

"You're brooding again," Azure commented after a particularly long silence.

"Just considering our odds," I replied.

"We're walking into the stronghold of people who would happily eradicate me if they knew what I am."

"While posing as a simple village boy who can't distinguish a cultivation technique from a cooking recipe," Azure added with dry humor.

"The perfect disguise, provided you don't accidentally levitate or summon plant life during dinner." Despite everything, I had to suppress a smile. I turned my attention to the passing landscape, watching as the cultivated fields gave way to old-growth forest. Massive trees with trunks wider than village huts created a natural canopy overhead. In the distance, I caught occasional glimpses of blue-tinged mountains, their peaks disappearing into the clouds.

"The ancient forests of the Cerulean Range," one of the guards commented, noticing my interest.

"They say these woods have stood since before the suns split."

"The suns split?" I asked, seizing the opportunity to gather more information about this world's history. The guard looked at me, surprise evident in his expression.

"You don't know the Creation Tale? Even village children are taught that much." I manufactured an appropriately embarrassed expression.

"My village was... remote. We had few scholars." The guard grunted, seemingly satisfied with this explanation.

"The ancient texts tell us there was once a single sun in the sky, golden and balanced. But a great calamity split it in two, creating the red and blue celestial bodies we see today." He gestured broadly upward.

"The blue sun retained the purity and harmony of the original, while the red absorbed all its volatile, destructive aspects."

"An interesting perspective," I remarked carefully, thinking how both sides seem to have inherited the madness. The Lightweaver's head snapped toward me, his eyes suddenly focused.

"It is not perspective, but truth," he said, his first words in hours.

"The corruption of the red sun is evident in its effects: madness, mutation, and bloodlust. The Skybound are living proof of the red sun's malevolence." I raised my hands in a placating gesture.

"I meant no offense. I'm simply trying to understand." The Lightweaver held my gaze for a long moment before turning back to the window.

"Understanding requires more than questions. It requires faith." Faith. Such a convenient shield against inquiry.

"Or perhaps," Azure's voice echoed in my mind, "he simply lacks the answers himself and finds comfort in certainty." A fair point. Living between two hostile cosmic forces would naturally drive people toward absolutism. The alternative, acknowledging complexity, living in the gray area, was far more challenging. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The carriage hit a particularly deep rut, jolting us all from our thoughts.

Outside, the forest had begun to thin, revealing glimpses of a vast valley beyond. And there, in the distance, a structure began to take shape against the horizon. My breath caught in my throat. The Blue Sun Academy emerged from the morning mist like something from a dream. Unlike the Red Sun Academy I was familiar with, a brutal fortress of sharp angles and imposing stonework, this place seemed to flow with the landscape, rising organically from the mountainside in graceful spires and terraced gardens.

The architecture was a harmonious blend of natural rock formations and carefully constructed towers that spiraled skyward, their surfaces embedded with thousands of blue crystals that captured and amplified the cerulean sunlight. Cascading waterfalls flowed from various levels, their spray creating countless tiny rainbows in the blue-tinged light. Delicate bridges spanned between towers, appearing almost impossibly thin from this distance.

Gardens clung to the mountainside, creating a tapestry of green and blue that softened the stone structures. But most impressive was the central spire, the gateway to the Cerulean Spire, I presumed, a massive tower that rose far above the rest, its peak seeming to touch the very sky. At its summit, a pulsing blue light flared with such intensity that I had to avert my gaze.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" the guard to my left commented, noticing my awestruck expression.

"They say the Cerulean Spire is the exact point where the blue sun's light touches the earth most directly. A conduit between mortal realm and divine power." I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

"The entrance is still about an hour away," the guard continued.

"The approach is designed to inspire awe... and humility." The Academy disappeared and reappeared as our path wound through the foothills, each new vista presenting it from a different angle, each view more impressive than the last. By the time we reached the base of the mountain proper, my neck was sore from constant craning to take in the spectacle above us. The final approach was a wide, paved road that zigzagged up the mountainside, bordered by ancient trees.

Through gaps in the foliage, I could glimpse sections of the Academy, now much closer, individual windows, fluttering banners in various shades of blue, and occasionally, distant figures moving along the high walkways.

"We'll stop at the lower gates to change horses," Beric announced, riding back from the lead carriage.

"The climb is steep, and the animals need to be fresh for it." The caravan came to a halt in a broad clearing at the foot of the mountain. A small outpost stood there, clearly Academy property, judging by the architecture and the blue-robed attendants who emerged to assist us. As the attendants worked, Lady Laelyn approached my carriage. She looked both excited and apprehensive, her usual composure slightly frayed around the edges.

Beric hovered protectively nearby, watching her interaction with me through narrowed eyes.

"Tomas," she greeted me with a small smile.

"How was your journey?" I climbed down from the carriage and bowed respectfully.

"Uneventful, thankfully. The view has been... eye-opening." I gestured toward the Academy looming above us.

"I never imagined anything like this existed."

"Few ever see it," she replied, her voice softening.

"The Academy maintains a certain... exclusivity."

"I can imagine." I paused, then added, "How are you feeling? This is a significant moment for you." Her eyes flicked briefly toward the massive structure above us.

"Nervous. Excited. Uncertain." She took a deep breath.

"So many expectations rest on this visit. My family's hopes, my own ambitions, the Order's requirements..."

"You'll exceed them all," I said. The brief time I'd spent with Lady Laelyn had shown me that she possessed not only power but integrity, a rare combination in any world.

"They'd be fools not to see your worth." A brief flash of gratitude crossed her face before her expression sobered. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure we remained unobserved. Her hand moved to the leather satchel at her side, fingers tracing its outline through the fabric of her traveling cloak. My curiosity peaked.

"What's that you're hiding, you've guarded it carefully throughout our journey." Lady Laelyn's lips pressed into a thin line, indecision flashing across her features. After a moment's hesitation, she spoke, "Lord Kaeven gave me something the night before his death. My grandmother's journal. I nodded, feigning only partial recognition.

"The journal you mentioned before? The one containing her research?"

"Yes." Her eyes grew distant.

"Her work on the dual nature of the suns. Techniques that draw on both energies simultaneously." She shook her head slightly.

"Knowledge that would see me executed as a heretic if discovered in my possession within the Academy walls."

"You don't trust him," I observed.

"No," she admitted.

"Though I had no concrete reason not to. He was my father's ally for decades." She sighed.

"But there was something... off about Lord Kaeven. Something that made me wary despite his outward kindness."

"You think he might have been involved in the attempts on your life?" I kept my voice equally low.

"I don't know," she admitted, frustration evident in her tone.

"But it wouldn't surprise me. The noble houses competing for influence within the Order often resort to... underhanded methods."

"And now you're bringing potentially controversial material into their stronghold," I murmured. She nodded, her expression troubled.

"If anyone discovered it..." She didn't need to finish the thought.

"Well, if it's as dangerous as you say, you can't bring it into the Academy."

"I know." Her fingers tightened around the leather.

"But I can't bring myself to destroy it either. This is my grandmother's legacy, perhaps the only record of her true work." She fell silent, her inner conflict evident in the tightness around her eyes.

"Give it to me," I suggested. Her head snapped up, eyes widening.

"What?"

"No one will search a servant's belongings," I explained.

"If they do inspect luggage, they'll focus on yours, not mine. I can keep it safe until you decide what to do with it or destroy it if necessary." Lady Laelyn stared at me, clearly taken aback by the offer.

"Tomas... if you're caught with this—""I won't be," I assured her with more confidence than perhaps I should have felt.

"And if the choice is between risking my position as a servant or risking your candidacy for Saintess, well... there's really no choice at all, is there?" Her expression softened, gratitude and something deeper shining in her eyes.

"Why would you do this for me? We barely know each other." In truth, the answer was selfish. If the journal contained what she claimed, it could revolutionize my understanding of cultivation. And if Azure could memorize its contents, we wouldn't need to keep the physical evidence anyway. But I gave her the answer Tomas would have given, honest, direct, heartfelt.

"You saved me when my village was destroyed. You've given me purpose when I had nothing left. This is the least I can do in return." Lady Laelyn studied my face, clearly weighing her options.