Memoirs Chapter 320 - Helicopter parents
The snow crackled softly as Scarlett’s fire swept across it, steam curling upward in sinuous tendrils where flames met frost. Around her, the estate’s training grounds lay locked in winter’s grasp, yet a wide circle at the centre was stripped bare, the frost seared away to reveal the dark stone beneath. Sparse flakes drifted lazily from the overcast sky, vanishing in bursts of heat as they neared her magic.
Scarlett maintained her focus, weaving strands of flame that flickered and danced in the frigid air. She stretched her pyrokinesis, refining her control — splitting the fire into countless intricate shapes and glowing orbs, each like a sun unto itself. With a flick of her wrist, a cluster of orbs zipped forward, striking a floating snowbank and carving a constellation of tiny craters into its pristine surface. Another sheet of snow gathered and drifted upward, forming a fresh mound. Closing her eyes, Scarlett directed the fire’s trajectory by intuition alone, relying on her senses and the natural flow of mana.
Her brow furrowed slightly as she extended her awareness, attuning herself to the subtle shifts in the snow — the minute cracks and creaks as it settled under its own weight, the faint rustle of small creatures burrowing beneath, and even the delicate whisper of new flakes settling atop the layers. She grasped that sensation, the ocean of snow, and moved it.
When she opened her eyes, the entire blanket of snow covering the training grounds hovered above the ground, still and suspended like a vast, shimmering sheet of white silk. Then, with a simple release of her will, it fell, cascading down in a muted roar of powder and frost.
Throughout that, her fiery constructs remained intact, their warm glow casting shadows across the snow. The shapes pulsed and shifted, undiminished by her divided focus.
She allowed herself a light, distant smile. It was amazing how easy some of this was now, as if her abilities had crossed a threshold into instinct. She probably could have done this before, but with so little effort? [Major Mana Control] definitely made a difference.
Lowering her hand, Scarlett raised the [Eternal Flameweaver’s Athame] in her grasp. The divine artifact’s molten blade glinted as though alive, radiating an almost imperceptible warmth that resonated with her mana. She was testing whether her efficiency was any different compared to in Freymeadow, and the results were undeniable. Despite using both hydrokinesis and pyrokinesis in roughly equal measure, the former had been what drained the majority of her reserves.
She turned the dagger in her grip, feeling its dormant potency stir as her energy flowed through it. The air around the blade was slightly distorted by the heat, though the artifact remained mostly inert. There were still secrets buried within it.
After a while, Scarlett released a slow breath, extinguishing her final flames with a casual gesture. The cold rushed in immediately, biting at her skin.
She let it. For once, she didn’t bother shielding herself with warmth, allowing the snow to settle on her unprotected shoulders. Clad in the same dress she’d returned in earlier during the day, she tilted her head back to watch the dark sky, where faint stars peeked through breaks in the clouds.
Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Arlene. Her fingers tightened, then loosened around the Flameweaver’s hilt as—not for the first time in recent days—a quiet melancholia stirred within her.
She couldn’t help feeling disappointed. From today, no matter how far she advanced, no matter what kind of head-turning leaps of progress she achieved or what magical heights she reached, Arlene wouldn’t see it. She couldn’t casually brag, couldn’t seek guidance. The former might have been a touch self-indulgent and crass, but she doubted Arlene would have minded. If anything, the woman might have found it amusing that Scarlett’s thoughts turned in that direction after she was gone.