Your idea is ambitious, but doomed to fail, and this is why: the identities of your mortal kin rest equally upon a foundation of apophasis and affirmation. Thus, you will never be able to convince a follower of Sartan that they should offer blood to the Bloodsworn, nor a follower of Phaestus to bend the knee in reverence to Babel. Even Nicator only succeeded because he was anointed by Sarapis, Himself above the politics of the Gods, and He is gone -- tending, He has told us, to the flickering Fire Behind the Flame, His last gift to all who have ever drawn breath.

By way of hope, I will say that simply because it is doomed to fail does not mean it is not worth attempting. Indeed, what made Seleucar great did not perish among the shattered stones that the great Atrousian graveyard has reclaimed. It lies in the heart of every man, woman, and child; it lies behind the reason Ayar sundered His consciousness to become Proteus. It is in enduring the cycle of struggle and achievement, of determination and defeat, and emerging, the flame of your own aspiration unsnuffed.

So search for your Seleucar if you must; indulge in the dream of youth with the energy that only youth provides if you can. But should you encounter difficulties along the path, should all you have sacrificed end in naught, do not curse those crucibles you face, for those shall define you, just as they defined your heroes of yesteryear.

And once you have made peace with the idea that your legacy, whatever it may be, will also someday fade and crumble like the mortar that held together the walls of the invincible Empire -- once you have understood that the ruins of your passing will also be obliterated by the endless, uncaring wilderness, just as Nicator's were -- then and only then will you have the wisdom needed to go and meaningfully establish it.

Penned by my hand on the 6th of Daedalan, in the year 881 AF.