Chương 248: Lady Vareyn's Journal

The next few hours passed in a blur of activity. We were led from the outer courtyard through a series of increasingly beautiful spaces: gardens where flowers bloomed in impossible shades of blue, meditation halls with ceilings that seemed to open directly to the sky, libraries where ancient texts floated in protective bubbles of light rather than resting on mundane shelves. At each significant location, Elder Sorrin or one of the other blue-robed guides would pause to explain its purpose and history.

I listened attentively, storing away every detail that might prove useful. Knowledge was survival in this place.

"The Academy was established hundreds of thousands of years ago," explained a female Lightweaver with silver-streaked hair and serene features, "shortly after the Great Sundering that split the original golden sun into its blue and red aspects." We stood in a vast circular chamber whose domed ceiling depicted that very event, a massive golden orb fracturing into two smaller bodies, one cerulean, one crimson, with human figures below raising their arms in either supplication or terror.

"The first Lightweavers discovered that certain individuals were naturally resistant to the mental influence of the red sun while being receptive to the life properties of the blue. They gathered these blessed few and established this sanctuary to study and cultivate these gifts." She gestured to a series of murals depicting robed figures channeling blue light.

"Thus began our Order's mission to preserve wisdom, heal the land, and protect humanity from the corruption of the red sun's influence."

"And the Red Sun Academy?" I asked innocently.

"Was it established at the same time?" The Lightweaver's serene expression faltered slightly.

"The Order of the Last Light, as they call themselves, emerged later. Those who found power in the red sun's chaotic energy fought between themselves for years before they finally gathered in the northern wastes where its influence is strongest. Their goals..." She hesitated.

"Their goals have always been at odds with our own."

"They seek dominance through strength," added another guide, his tone making it clear this was an understatement.

"Where we cultivate harmony and healing, they pursue power and destruction." I nodded thoughtfully, playing the role of the awed initiate while inwardly noting how each side painted the other in the darkest possible terms. The Red Sun Academy refused to acknowledge the existence of their counterpart, and when they do, they describe the Lightweavers as weak deceivers who hide their thirst for control behind platitudes about healing and harmony.

Neither portrayal seemed entirely accurate, yet neither felt entirely false either. Our tour continued through training grounds where Lightweavers of various ranks practiced their arts. Unlike the blood-soaked combat grounds of the Red Sun Academy, these spaces emphasized control and precision. Young initiates sat in concentric circles, manipulating tiny motes of blue light between their fingers.

More advanced practitioners wove complex patterns in the air, creating transient sculptures of light that served purposes I could only guess at.

"Light is both medium and message," explained our guide.

"Through it, we communicate with the blue sun itself, drawing upon its wisdom and power to maintain balance in the world." In one particularly impressive demonstration, a Rank 5 Lightweaver created a perfect replica of the mountain valley below us, rendered entirely in blue light. Within this miniature landscape, I could see tiny figures moving, people going about their daily lives in the villages under the Academy's protection.

"Surveillance," Azure commented in my mind.

"Beautiful, but essentially a sophisticated scrying technique. They're watching everyone in their territory."

"Not so different from the Red Sun Academy's methods," I replied silently.

"Just more elegant in execution."

"Indeed," Azure agreed.

"Different aesthetics, same fundamental purpose, control." The only difference being the Blue Sun Academy did a better job at convincing its disciples that they weren't in a prison. The final stop on our tour was the Aspirants' Quarter, a cluster of elegant pavilions connected by covered walkways, set around a central garden where a natural spring bubbled up to form a small, luminous pool.

The buildings were constructed from pale stone veined with blue crystal, their graceful architecture reflecting the Academy's overall aesthetic of organic harmony. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Each candidate is assigned their own pavilion for the duration of the Selection process," our guide explained.

"These spaces are designed to facilitate meditation and attunement to the blue sun's energies. They are also protected by privacy formations that prevent outside observation or interference." Lady Laelyn was directed to a pavilion on the eastern side of the garden, while I was assigned one directly opposite, on the western edge. The symbolism wasn't lost on me, east for the rising blue sun, west for its setting. Was I already being categorized as the lesser candidate?

Not that I'm complaining, more potential came with more assassination attempts, just as these past few days demonstrated.

"The common areas are for sharing meals, discussions, and supervised interaction with the other candidates," continued our guide.

"Currently, there are six candidates in residence, including yourselves. A few were unable to…attend." A nice way of saying they didn't make it to the academy alive.

"You will meet your fellow candidates at the evening meal." With that, we were left to settle into our respective pavilions before the dinner hour. Servants had already delivered Lady Laelyn's extensive luggage to her quarters, while my meager possessions waited beside the entrance to mine. The interior of the pavilion was both simpler and more luxurious than I had anticipated. A single large room with a sleeping area, a meditation platform, a small dining table, and a private bathing chamber.

The walls were made of the same blue-veined stone as the exterior, polished to a soft sheen that caught and diffused the light. The ceiling was a dome of crystal panels that would allow the blue sun's light to fill the space during daylight hours. I set my pack on the low table and emptied its contents. Clothes, the small pouch of coins, the water flask, dried provisions, and hidden under my tunic, Lady Laelyn's grandmother's journal, still safely concealed after our journey.

"Secure?" I asked Azure silently as I carefully withdrew the leather-bound volume.

"The privacy formations around this pavilion are genuine," he confirmed after a moment's assessment.

"Quite sophisticated, actually. They seem designed to allow the blue sun's energy to penetrate while blocking all other forms of observation or intrusion." I nodded, satisfied with his evaluation.

"Then let's see what secrets this journal contains that are worth killing over." The journal was surprisingly heavy for its size, bound in midnight-blue leather with faint silver tracings along its spine. The cover bore no title, only a simple embossed pattern that resembled a spiraling galaxy. I ran my fingers over it, sensing the protective enchantments woven into the binding, subtle but powerful workings designed to prevent casual scanning or detection.

Sitting cross-legged on the meditation mat, I carefully opened the journal to its first page, revealing elegant handwriting in deep blue ink. At the top, a name was inscribed in flowing script: "Elara Vareyn, Journal."

"I'll turn each page slowly," I told Azure.

"Memorize everything."

"Of course," he replied. Whatever secrets Lady Vareyn's grandmother had discovered about the dual nature of the suns, they had been important enough to get her killed and to put her granddaughter in danger. I took a deep breath and began to read the first page. My advancement to Rank 6 Lightweaver was celebrated throughout the Order yesterday, if only they knew the truth! All my life, I've hidden my affinity for the red sun, cultivating in secret while presenting only my blue sun abilities to the world.

The duality has nearly driven me mad at times, but it has granted me insights no pure Lightweaver could ever grasp. With my new rank, it was much easier to sneak into the Forbidden Archives in the highest spire and what I found there today has shaken me to my core. Everything we've been taught, everything, is wrong! The ancient texts speak of the time before the Sundering when a single golden sun blessed our skies.

We're told the split was divine providence, separating purity from corruption, blue light preserving wisdom, red containing destruction. But it's a lie! Oh gods, the Sundering wasn't divine at all, it was the desperate act of those who were already cursed! I found evidence of SOMETHING that came from beyond our world! Some entity or force that infected the minds of the most powerful cultivators of the golden age!

The archives contained fragments of personal journals from those ancient times, their writings became increasingly erratic, paranoid! They wrote of whispers in their minds, of visions that haunted them even in waking hours! Whatever this force was, it targeted the strongest practitioners first, those closest to ascension! The curse spread among the cultivators like a disease of the soul! Their powers grew even as their sanity crumbled!

In their madness, they believed splitting the golden sun would purge the corruption, that dividing its essence would somehow save them from the influence that was destroying their minds! Their ritual was born of desperation and delusion! And it failed catastrophically! It didn't remove the curse, it merely transformed it! The single madness became two different expressions of the same corruption!

Red sun creates monsters of flesh, blue sun creates monsters of mind, but both paths lead to the same end, the destruction of the self! The entity that cursed our world, it may still be here, watching, waiting. Sometimes I feel it at the edges of my consciousness, especially during deep meditation. No one will believe me, but I know for certain that it will return. All our cultivation, all our suffering, all our madness, we are being grown for some purpose I cannot fathom!

I can hardly write this, my hands tremble too much, what if they find this journal? What if they discover what I know? But I cannot stop now. I've gone too far. The truth is like a poison in my mind, I cannot unknow it! I hear footsteps outside my door... must hide this... will continue tomorrow if I still live...