Chapter 83

Leaving the infirmary behind after finishing my assigned duty for the day, I immediately headed toward the office of what had thus far become my most valuable relationship within the Cult Of The Divines.

Keeper Lavanya.

A Keeper with more than a century of experience within the Cult.

And accessorily...

A fellow fairy.

That last detail had helped facilitate our first conversations, if only because our shared tiny size and ability to defy gravity without even thinking about it created an obvious reason to acknowledge one another whenever we found ourselves in the same room.

Beyond that, however, Lavanya had proved valuable for reasons that had nothing to do with our shared species.

She knew the Cult and its [Purpose].

Not merely the broad doctrine publicly explained to visitors or the formal hierarchy I could retrieve from repositories.

She knew how it worked.

Who actually made decisions.

Why procedures existed.

How one [Faith] negotiated with another.

How resources were distributed.

How a Keeper's service to the Cult translated into advantages for the [Faith] they personally supported.

How Voices competed for attention without tearing apart the institution allowing them to preach in the first place.

The sort of [Knowledge] that only accumulated after decades of personal involvement.

Or, in Lavanya's case, more than a century.

I arrived before her office, knocked twice, then entered without waiting for an answer.

She had already informed me several days ago that knocking was sufficient unless the door was explicitly marked as closed to visitors, and waiting afterward only wasted both our time.

Lavanya didn't look up.

I closed the fairy morphology-facilitated door behind me and flew toward the small elevated platform she had installed beside one corner of her desk after my third visit.

A fairy-sized chair waited there.

I settled into it.

Still no greeting.

There didn't need to be one.

Lavanya continued working through a pile of documents nearly as tall as I was.

Some were physical papers.

Others were thin [Ether] displays covered in writing.

A third category looked like sheets of translucent crystal that changed their contents whenever she touched them.

She moved between all three with practiced efficiency.

Reading.

Marking.

Signing.

Rejecting.

Redirecting.

Adding a note.

Setting aside.

Picking up another.

Her appearance made the amount of experience behind those movements somewhat strange to reconcile.

A century hadn't made her look anywhere wizened.

Her black eyes were lively and bright.

Her black hair remained thick and reached well below her shoulders.

And the four transparent wings resting behind her looked almost like mine once had before my first encounter with an Essence overdevelopment disorder gone volatile gave them their present crystalline iridescence.

Simple.

Clear.

Had I encountered her without context, nothing about her appearance or biological health would have told me that she had spent longer serving the Cult than entire generations of short-lived species remained alive.

I assumed that's what the combination of entering the Cult young and being elevated to the rank of Keeper barely a few decades after that made possible...

While I lost myself in this line of thinking amidst many others, Lavanya finished another document.

Then another.

And I continued to wait.

Paperwork was simply like that, transcending Sectors, organizations, cultures, and possibly the Endless Realms themselves.

Surely one day I would discover an Entity powerful enough to destroy it, but I was certain it would have to perform paperwork first to be able to do so.

A little over two minutes passed before Lavanya spoke without raising her head.

"So, little Aspirant, how fares your study of our grand Cult?"

"Better than when I arrived."

I had long been expecting the question, and so answered instantly with some humor first, just like she liked it.

"That would be concerningly easy."

"Then significantly better."

One corner of her mouth shifted.

I continued.

"The Cult Of The Divines exists because [Faith] itself is simple in principle but almost infinitely variable in expression."

"Someone forms the [Faith] Aspect, dedicates that [Faith] to an Entity, and the Entity is empowered by it. That part remains consistent."

As I got started, Lavanya finally looked toward me, her pair of jet-black eyes meeting mine.

I took that as permission to continue.

"What changes is how the relationship is expressed."

"One [Faith] may treat its object as a god. Another as a leader. Another may emphasize obedience, imitation, love, fear, gratitude, service, protection, personal advancement, or almost anything else capable of structuring genuine [Faith]."

"The Cult doesn't exist to determine which one is correct. Its [Purpose] is to make all of them workable together."

"It helps the Unbound find something worthy of dedicating their [Faith] to, helps established [Faith]s spread, gives them Temples and administrative support, preserves their teachings, organizes congregations, mediates disputes, and provides the infrastructure that lets a religion grow without its object of [Faith] having to personally build every institution required to sustain it."

Lavanya set down the document she had been holding.

"And the hierarchy?"

"Fluid because the Cult has to serve [Faith]s whose structures can have almost nothing in common."

"Continue."

"The Unbound haven't yet formed and dedicated their [Faith]. Once they do, they're considered Kindled."

She nodded.

"Within the Kindled, Voices primarily represent individual [Faith]s. They teach them, preach them, interpret them, and give their believers representation within the Cult."

"As for Keepers, they primarily serve the Cult rather than acting as preachers for their personal [Faith]. Administration, logistics, scholarship, finance, repositories, diplomacy, organization, and whatever else keeps the institution functioning."

"Their service earns recognition, resources, and opportunities that can then benefit the [Faith] they personally support."

"Better than your last pathetic attempt at an answer," she said, then nodded at me to continue.

"Luminaries operate under the same principle as Keepers, except taken farther."

"They possess enough authority to lead entire Temples or similarly important portions of the Cult. Their position gives their own [Faith] significant opportunities to spread, but they're still responsible for accommodating the other [Faith]s using the institution."

Lavanya remained silent.

"As for Ascendants, they are different from all of them because they're objects of [Faith] rather than merely individuals giving it."

"If an Entity with an established body of [Faith]ful wants an active role in managing the religion formed around them, the Cult recognizes them as an Ascendant and shifts toward an advisory and managerial role."

I paused.

"In other words, the Cult finds [Faith], propagates it, organizes it, and provides enough shared infrastructure for countless [Faith]s, as in religions, to coexist without every object of [Faith] independently recreating the same machinery."

Lavanya stared at me for several seconds, then nodded once. "Acceptable."

She then extended one hand, causing a thick bundle of papers to rise from a shelf behind her and drift across her utilitarian-minded office.

I recognized it before it landed on my platform.

"The Path Of Solaena's [Faith]".

The organized version, at least.

Far less chaotic than when I had arrived, but still nowhere near complete.

Lavanya had borrowed it two days ago after I finally decided that I possessed enough [Knowledge] of her interests to risk showing her something directly connected to my intentions.

She tapped one finger against the cover.

"It was an interesting, if shallow, read."

She leaned back.

"And the most promising thing about it is what you didn't write."

"You have plans. Many of them. Recruitment possibilities, tentative structures, questions of quantity and quality, how much interaction you might maintain with your future [Faith]ful, what sorts of people might benefit from placing [Faith] in you, how your writings might function, and what you eventually hope to gain through [Paragon]."

I stayed perfectly still, not even bothering to put on an ingratiating face.

"But as you so unsubtly put it, because you don't know anything, you have yet to commit to even a single exact measure, keeping everything within the territory of hypotheticals."

"That," she emphasized, "Is the sole reason I'm not telling you to throw this manuscript away without giving it a single afterthought."

"Most aspiring objects of [Faith] make the opposite mistake. They discover that a handful of people wound up having [Faith] in them, become intoxicated by the implications, and begin constructing doctrines for congregations they don't yet possess. Rules. Offices. Ceremonies. Obligations. Restrictions. Promises. Sometimes punishments."

Lavanya placed one hand atop the text.

"You lack [Knowledge]. You have the [Awareness] and [Clarity] of mind to know that you lack [Knowledge], and more importantly, you haven't mistaken recognizing that ignorance for an inability to plan around it. That's a quality I hope you'll keep for a long time."

Hearing the tone of finality in her voice, I looked toward the manuscript and at last asked the question I had been building toward since entering, "Then what should I define first?"

Lavanya smiled.

That was it.

"For a start, you need to define the type of [Faith] you wish to instill in others."

I immediately reached for my notebook.

Lavanya waited until I had opened it before she resumed her sharing of [Wisdom].

"There are many ways for [Faith]ful to relate to the Entity receiving their [Faith]. [Faith] in a greater being. [Faith] in a leader. [Faith] in a protector. [Faith] in a teacher. [Faith] in a companion. [Faith] in a lover. [Faith] in someone whose Path you wish to imitate. [Faith] in someone you believe will accomplish what you cannot."

My pen moved.

"What matters, then? In my experience, what matters at the core is the primary relationship."

She pointed toward me.

"Ask yourself. What do you want someone to believe you are to them?"

I stopped writing.

Lavanya continued before I could answer.

"All genuine [Faith] is ultimately [Faith]. The Aspect does not care whether your believer kneels before you every morning, argues with you over dinner, follows you into battle, copies your teachings, or spends a century trying to surpass you. If they dedicate their [Faith] to you, that [Faith] empowers you."

"However, its expression affects everything surrounding it."

She gestured toward my manuscript.

"Organization. Recruitment. Expectations. Doctrine. The sort of people drawn to you. What they expect you to provide. What they tolerate when you fail. What they interpret as betrayal. What they consider proof that their [Faith] was well placed."

I wrote that.

Lavanya continued.

"Aspiring toward the [Paragon] Aspect is useful, if a bit much [Ambition]-driven. It gives you direction. You want people to place [Faith] in your potential, your Path, your capacity to become something greater than you presently are. But that's not enough."

I waited.

"If I form [Faith] in you because I believe you will one day become a [Paragon], what does that make you to me?"

I opened my mouth.

Stopped.

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Lavanya raised one eyebrow.

"An investment?" I eventually suggested.

She laughed.

Not loudly.

But genuinely.

"Of course that would be your first answer."

"It seems accurate."

"It may even be."

I wrote it down.

She leaned forward slightly.

"Then what do you give me in exchange?"

"Future returns if I succeed."

"Too vague."

"[Guided] assistance."

"Can you provide it?"

"Not through [Faith] yet."

"Then don't promise it."

"I could provide direct guidance."

"To how many?"

I paused.

That...

Was a problem.

Lavanya gave me no time to avoid it.

"A thousand?"

"No."

"A hundred?"

"Possibly."

"Ten?"

"Yes."

"One?"

"Easily."

"There."

I looked up from my notes.

Lavanya tapped the manuscript again.

"You keep thinking about your future [Faith] at the scale it might one day reach. Millions of believers. Organizations. Recruitment networks. Entire generations shaped by your writings and the sole passive influence of your Path and the achievements you'll leave in your wake."

"Those are certainly probable eventual concerns if it succeeds, but they are also irrelevant to what you can build today."

I didn't object.

She was right, after all.

"You are attempting to design a [Faith] for the Entity you might become while possessing neither the Aspects nor the maturity required to manage the religion available to the Entity you are."

My [Clarity] pulsed softly at this statement.

I wrote it down word for word.

"What would you recommend instead, then?"

"Again, that depends on the relationship you want."

Having already dug up the equivalent of a month of intensive delve in the making of a [Faith], I didn't hold back and went ahead. "Assume I want [Faith]ful who contribute to my eventual [Paragon] Aspect while also providing value before I reach it."

"Still too broad."

"People whose Paths possess enough potential that helping them develop would create useful allies, useful [Knowledge], and eventually useful sources of [Faith]."

Lavanya's expression shifted.

"That's better, but still too broad. Add constraints."

"I don't want people whose primary value is their desperation."

"Yet your manuscript contains orphanages, slums, and prisons."

"Because they were obvious recruitment pools."

"Recruitment pools for what?"

I stopped.

There it was again.

The same flaw.

I had optimized ways to find believers before defining what sort of believers my initial [Faith] actually required.

"I don't know... yet."

"Then you're learning."

Lavanya picked up another document from her pile.

For a moment, I thought the lesson had ended.

"What does your Origin Aspect do?"

Fortunately, it hadn't.

"[Guided]?"

"No, your mysterious thirteenth Aspect nobody knows about and that allows you to bend [Fate]."

I stared at her.

She looked back.

"[Guided]," I answered.

"Then answer."

"It guides me."

"Shallow."

I narrowed my eyes.

Lavanya smiled and continued working.

I understood the point.

"[Guided] provides [Knowledge], directs my efforts, corrects errors, structures my [Cultivation], identifies paths toward objectives, and solves problems whose complete reasoning I couldn't consciously reproduce."

"And what have you wanted to eventually do with it through [Faith]?"

"Extend some portion of that guidance toward my [Faith]ful."

"Why?"

"Because it would provide them something concrete in exchange for dedicating their [Faith] to me."

Lavanya stopped writing.

"And there you are again."

"What?"

"Exchange."

I looked at the word in my notebook.

Investment.

Value.

Returns.

Exchange.

All terms I had used naturally.

Not because Lavanya had introduced them.

Because that was how I already understood relationships.

Even my longest-standing relationships had developed around overlapping interests.

Guardian Elric.

Stavros.

Xafsa.

The Pulse.

The Faith Of The Aspects.

I could appreciate people.

Trust them.

Prefer them.

Even care about what happened to some.

None of that had ever required pretending that mutual benefit didn't matter.

Lavanya resumed writing.

"Perhaps you should stop attempting to design your [Faith] as though you were the sort of Entity who wants worship."

"I don't."

"I know."

"Or unconditional devotion."

"I know."

"Or obedience."

"I gathered that after the fourth paragraph in which you questioned whether ordering your future believers around would make them less useful."

"It could."

Lavanya sighed. "Solaena."

I shut my mouth.

"Sometimes an answer is obvious because you've already answered it fifty times without noticing."

I considered that.

Then wrote another question.

"What forms of [Faith] are compatible with a primarily transactional relationship?"

Lavanya's pen stopped.

She looked at me.

Then at the pile of paperwork still waiting.

Then back at me.

"I assume you're staying."

"Yes."

"Wonderful."

And so I did.

That conversation lasted another three hours.

I asked about [Faith] between teachers and students.

Patrons and proteges.

Leaders and followers.

Companions whose [Faith] emerged from shared struggle.

Individuals who dedicated [Faith] to benefactors without considering them divine.

The distinction between gratitude and [Faith].

Whether transactional expectations weakened [Faith].

Whether an object of [Faith] could openly acknowledge that they benefited from receiving it.

Whether promising returns created problems.

Whether [Faith] based on personal guidance could survive once direct guidance became impossible due to scale.

I recorded everything Lavanya said, even if they were cryptic fragments that I already knew would lead nowhere.

Then returned the next day.

And the day after that.

And after that.

At some point, without either of us formally deciding it, visiting Lavanya's office became part of my routine.

I still performed my Pulse duties.

Still studied various forms and shapes of [Flow].

Still refined my [Foundation].

Still probed around the Pillar Temple.

If anything, my conversations with everyone else became more useful because I now possessed someone capable of interpreting what I found.

A Voice told me that their believers viewed doubt as an essential expression of [Faith].

I brought that to Lavanya.

She explained why the doctrine had emerged and how it affected retention.

A Keeper complained that one congregation consumed significantly more Temple resources than its contributions justified.

I brought that to Lavanya.

She explained how Cult accounting measured value across [Faith]s whose contributions couldn't always be expressed in credits.

A believer told me they had never met the Entity receiving their [Faith] and didn't expect to.

I brought that to Lavanya.

We discussed distance between object and believer.

Another described their object of [Faith] as a personal friend.

Another as a ruler.

Another as an ancestor.

Another as a force of nature that happened to possess a personality and something of a sentient quality.

Another claimed their [Faith] was built almost entirely around disagreement.

That conversation required clarification.

Then more clarification.

Then several books I asked my Cult "friends" to fetch for me.

Every day, I arrived with new questions.

Every day, Lavanya answered some, challenged others, and occasionally informed me that the question itself had been constructed incorrectly.

Sometimes I returned the next day with a revised version.

Sometimes with an answer.

Occasionally with [Knowledge] she hadn't possessed.

Those were my favorite occasions.

Lavanya appeared to enjoy them too, though she expressed that enjoyment primarily by immediately demanding the source.

Then one day I entered to discover a second pile of documents already waiting beside my chair.

"Those are for you," she said.

"What are they?"

"Three historical failures involving emerging objects of [Faith], two successful patron-oriented religions, an analysis of reciprocal [Faith] relationships, and a Keeper's dissertation on why attempting to quantify believer quality destroyed an otherwise promising congregation."

I landed and executed a perfect bow of thankfulness. "Thank you, not-elder Lavanya."

"You won't thank me after reading the dissertation."

She was wrong.

It was excellent.

Not because its conclusions all applied to me.

Because most didn't.

That distinction itself provided useful [Comprehension].

Days accumulated.

Then weeks.

My understanding of the Cult ceased resembling a collection of facts and gradually became something structural.

I understood why Voices required freedom.

Why Keepers required neutrality they could never completely possess.

Why Luminaries were expected to favor their own [Faith] without allowing that favoritism to cripple the Temple they oversaw.

Why Ascendants were given unusual authority over their own religions while still being advised against decisions that threatened the Cult structures supporting them.

Most importantly...

I increasingly understood what I didn't want.

I didn't want worship for its own sake.

Didn't want prayers I had no intention of answering.

Didn't want millions of people reciting my name while possessing no [Comprehension] of my Path.

Didn't want dependence without development.

Didn't want people waiting for me to solve problems they could solve themselves.

I wanted useful people.

People with Paths capable of becoming more.

People whose development I could accelerate.

People whose perspectives, abilities, [Knowledge], positions, and eventual accomplishments would return value to me.

And in exchange...

I could guide them.

Not vaguely.

Personally.

At least initially.

The final shift occurred during another ordinary visit.

No ritual.

No dramatic revelation.

Lavanya was reviewing supply requests while I reorganized several pages of "The Path Of Solaena's [Faith]".

I had crossed out the word recruitment for the third time.

Lavanya noticed.

"You still dislike it?"

"It implies quantity."

"It doesn't."

"It does in my head."

"Then replace it."

"With what?"

She shrugged.

"Selection."

My pen stopped.

Selection.

That was...

Better.

"Selection according to what?"

"You tell me."

"[Worthy]."

Lavanya looked up.

I continued before she could respond.

"Not necessarily through the Aspect. I mean people worth investing in."

"Define worth."

"Potential. Compatibility. Interesting Paths. Useful circumstances. [Knowledge] I lack. Access I don't possess. Capabilities that complement mine. Enough [Will] to actually use what I give them."

"And what do they receive?"

"Me."

Lavanya smiled.

I corrected myself.

"My guidance. Eventually, possibly some expression of [Guided] through [Faith]. Access to my [Knowledge]. Intervention through the likes of the [Avatar] Aspect when the return justifies it. Opportunities. Connections. Whatever I can provide that accelerates their Path without compromising mine."

"And what do you receive?"

"Their [Faith]."

"Only that?"

"No."

The answer came easily now.

"Their development."

There.

My [Clarity] shifted.

Not an advancement.

Nothing so dramatic.

But the structure I had spent weeks trying to define finally stopped resisting me.

My future [Faith] didn't need numbers.

Not yet.

Numbers would be a consequence.

Possibly centuries from now.

Trying to build toward them immediately would force me to establish doctrine, hierarchy, delegation, and [Faith]-handling systems I neither possessed nor needed.

What I needed was a first generation.

A small one.

Selected.

Personal.

People whose Paths warranted my involvement.

People I could guide directly, observe directly, and learn from directly.

Chosen not because they already believed in me...

But because I decided they were [Worthy] of being given a reason to.

My [Faith] could begin as an exchange.

Not an exchange replacing belief.

Their [Faith] would still be [Faith].

It had to be.

The Aspect required that.

But the relationship surrounding it didn't need to pretend otherwise.

I would invest in them.

Guide them.

Help their Paths grow.

And in return, they would dedicate their [Faith] to me.

If the relationship succeeded, their growth would itself become evidence that their [Faith] was justified.

Then, once I eventually formed whatever Aspects were required to properly receive, interpret, answer, and perhaps transmit something through the [Faith] directed at me...

The structure could expand organically.

My first [Faith]ful would already understand it.

They would have experienced it.

They could teach it.

Propagate it.

Find others.

Do for future [Faith]ful what I had once done for them.

A [Foundation].

Not a religion designed for millions.

A handful of people capable of becoming the [Foundation] from which one could eventually grow.

It suited my circumstances almost absurdly well.

I was still young.

My Path was still changing too quickly to freeze it into detailed doctrine.

Solving my Essence overdevelopment disorder remained my highest priority.

My ability to personally manage a large body of [Faith]ful was nonexistent.

But a few?

That, I could do.

A few carefully selected people of interest whose Paths were sufficiently [Worthy] of my attention.

People I would observe.

Evaluate.

And, if they proved suitable, choose for something greater.

Chosen by me.

I paused.

Chosen...

My Chosen.

"Chosen," I murmured.

Lavanya's eyebrows rose.

"Grammatically questionable."

"Provisional."

"Naturally."

I looked down at the page.

Selection.

Chosen.

Reciprocity.

Personal guidance.

First generation.

For once, the different pieces didn't immediately generate another dozen contradictions.

Lavanya leaned back.

"So?"

I finished writing the final line before answering.

"I don't need to build my [Faith]."

"Interesting conclusion from someone writing a book entitled 'The Path Of Solaena's [Faith]'."

"I need to build the people who will become its [Foundation]."

Lavanya's smile returned. "Much better."

I closed my notebook.

My first generation of [Faith]ful wouldn't be found by scattering "The Nascence Of Solaena" across every orphanage, slum, and prison I encountered.

I needed something more specific.

A way to identify the sort of people whose Paths were actually [Worthy] of my personal investment.

People with enough potential, compatibility, [Will], and unusual circumstances that helping them advance could justify everything I intended to offer in exchange.

People I could personally guide until their success gave them every reason to place their [Faith] in me, after which they could eventually become the ones who propagated that [Faith] farther than I ever could alone.

Chosen.

That's what my [Faith]'s [Foundation] would be about.

Thus, the problem became that Civilization contained far too many people for me to simply wander around evaluating them one by one.

I needed a filter.

A method.

Some means of finding those who were...

[Worthy].

The word made my thoughts pause.

Not because it was new.

Quite the opposite.

I had known that word and the concept it entailed for years.

I had even been judged and [Guided] by a certain elderly fairy who built an entire portion of his Path around it.

And somewhere within all the [Knowledge] I already possessed surrounding the concept of being [Worthy], there had to be something I could use.

Perhaps more than one thing.

My [Clarity] immediately began pulling old memories and unresolved questions back toward the surface.

I let it.

For the first time, finding my Chosen no longer felt like an undefined problem.

Only one I had yet to investigate properly.