Chương 33: 32 – Interlude: Snow Prints

Nine Years Ago

"Mother?" I asked, gently.

"Hi, Snowflake," Mother said. I bristled and immediately felt guilty. Mother was sick, but that wasn't her name to call me. Only Uncle Clestar could call me that. Pointing that out while she had a fever would be petty, though. The room was dark, lit only with a few glimmerflies. It was a warm spring day outside, but blankets were heaped atop the woman as if it were the dead of winter. A washcloth was on her forehead, but I didn't think it was the source of the liquid streaming down her brow. It was a bad day.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

"Not… the best. Not the worst either," she said with a smile.

"Here for more of my blood?"

"Yes, but since you're awake, we could talk. If you want to," I said. I wasn't sure why I even still bothered. She never had much to say to me, and even less now that fighting off the Hysterics consumed her every waking moment.

"I would like that, actually," she grunted, shifting a little under the mounds of cloth to face me. My eyes widened ever so slightly, but the woman noticed. She always noticed, and why shouldn't she? She had skill points in everything.

"Is it so surprising?" she asked.

"It's unusual," I said.

"Not surprising. We don't have much in common."

"I disagree," she said.

"You have my same love for puzzles and discovery. You shine when you're pursuing knowledge, and you're sharp as a knife. You think you got any of those traits from your father?" I attributed them more to Uncle Clestar, but there wasn't any reason to bring that up.

"You've described traits, not interests, Mother," I replied.

"Well, fine then! Let's talk about something that interests you. Any progress on my condition?" she spat.

"You're likely to feel much better tomorrow around noon," I replied stoically.

"Every time your blood has had the same consistency as the drawing last night, you've rapidly shown improvement."

"Yes. That's… that's good. Just in time for the election, right?"

"Yes," I replied.

'Knew it,' I thought. The election. Never mind my nameday. I swore if she forgot my eighteenth, I'd strangle her myself. If… she was still around by then anyway. For once, she didn't notice my bitterness. Your Deception skill has improved! Interesting. It just reached eighty-six. Not my highest skill, but it was certainly getting up there. Managing to sneak any emotions past the woman's ridiculous Observe skill was usually worth a point or two in deception, and even as high as the eighties, that hadn't changed.

I was still a baby walking in the footsteps of a behemoth. But one day I'd have a talent of my own. One day, I'd eclipse her. I just… Had to make sure she was still around to see it. Had to rub her face in it. Had to let her know that, for all her genius, she wasn't the only person in the world who was special. Your Deception skill has improved. Hmm. Perhaps she was even worse than I'd thought today.

"Did you want to talk about the election? Or the results of your blood tests?" I asked.

"I'm more interested in the election. I'm sure you've learned a lot of wonderful things about my fucked up talent, but hearing about it just makes me sad. Who would you vote for if you were old enough?"

"Augustin," I replied immediately. She grimaced.

"Don't do that. He's too invested in the applications of growth hormones on livestock. Thinks he can make bigger cows. More meat. He's going to try and invest half the country's revenue in research for it when I told him it's a dead end," Mother insisted. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

"Of course, Mother. Who should I theoretically vote for?" I said dryly. She grimaced.

"None of them. Me? Dammit, I suppose Augustin is fine enough. They can't possibly be worse than the bastards we have now. Damn this fucking sickness. I would kill for a coffee right now..." Mother had left the council last year due to 'health concerns', but her influence was still widespread, and her semi-regular appearances in the Latisforum had more impact than a rift break. She upended everything, and the counselors were regularly left flat-footed.

All proceedings stalled, and any progress being made, no matter the topic, ground to a halt. The nation she had lifted with her innovation, chemical advancements, and commercial genius was now being stifled by her continued influence and choking grip. At least… that was what Verhim and Uncle Clestar said when Mother wasn't around. I didn't know how much of it was true. I regretted asking her to talk.

"It's ironic, isn't it?" she asked.

"What is?" I asked. I wasn't really invested in her answer.

"I've prevented a war!" She barked with a laugh.

"All my efforts to stop those bloodthirsty fuckers. Years! Years and years, that I could've been advancing this place. Instead, I was stuck making sure those assholes didn't start a war with my creations! And now, after all that, they're afraid to commit without me. It's ironic. The one thing I couldn't manage to do no matter how hard I tried, I accomplish by just… drifting away." I filed that tidbit away. Was that truly why the counselors hadn't marched to war? I didn't know for sure. The Chemist was beloved here.

Her reputation with the people was strong enough that the council wouldn't be able to maintain order if she ever truly went against them. But she'd never wanted a civil war either.

"It consumed everything, Freyna. My every waking thought. My relationship with your father before he died. Mesenya and Verhim? Even you. It's why you have come to hate me, as I know you do. Because… I saw how every advancement I made was being perverted! Twisted into abominations that help no one! The glimmerflies? They can blind people, you know? The nitric oxide, that was supposed to help childbirths? Give kids birthdays instead of fucking namedays…? They were using it to kidnap people.

They tried to turn it into a war weapon, and I'm still not sure I stopped them." Old news. Repeated more than once during her episodes. She would forget in the morning. She always did.

"Fuck, the only unambiguously good thing I think I've done is recreating Ibuprofen! I was trying to do good! But everything I make… I had to make sure! Make sure that it was all worth something. You understand, don't you? Don't you?"

"I understand that you're having another panic attack, Mother," I said calmly.

"No! Dammit, this isn't a panic attack, it's a regular session of panic!" She laughed. Hysterically. I didn't change my expression. Mom slumped in her bed sheets.

"Please, Freyna. This isn't the Hysterics. This is me… trying to at least explain to you why I haven't been there for you like I should've. Okay?" I frowned. Could it be? I felt a small pang. Quiet and muted underneath the effects of my skills. I'd become quite competent at hiding my emotions for the past few years. I'd been surprised to discover the "Composure" skill, as my Uncle hadn't even known about it.

He was the only one I'd shared it with, but thus far, we still hadn't quite determined how I'd gained it in the first place. Mother probably knew, but then, Mother knew everything. She was less a person and more a wall to climb. Casting my deception or my sneaking against her observation was just another way of gaining skills, and I was determined to take advantage of every last one of them. Somehow, I still wanted to match her, though. That drive never left. Everything was a skill I needed to learn. Everything.

Even if I no longer cared about impressing her, I did it for me now. I learned how to act. I learned Mom's Chemistry from those she'd taught. I learned Networking and Diplomacy by my proximity to those who'd made the field their life's work. I had the finest tutors in Mathematics, and my physical skills were all naturally in at least the fifties. Endurance, in particular, was one of my strongest skills because I needed it to keep going when others might've quit.

My bartering, and arithmetic, my weaving, and my running. Carpentry and horsemanship. I learned everything I could get my hands on, with Composure and Endurance my third and second strongest skills. All next to my highest skill. Atrophology. One who studies decay. Another skill I didn't think anyone else had managed to discover, as I was quite certain the requirement to earn the skill was to run an experiment on someone whose talent was failing.

Perhaps it was that skill telling me she was lucid, or perhaps it was just my own Observe skill, but for some reason, I believed her.

"What does it change? So you had a good reason. You still barely know me," I said.

"And I don't care about you anymore." Your skill in bluffing has improved. Mother grimaced. So did I.

"I… suppose it changes nothing. I just hope you think a little better of me when I'm gone," she said.

"I just told you, you'll feel fine tomorrow," I said, feeling that pang hit a little harder beneath my chest. There was a lump of guilt in my throat, but I didn't know why. I couldn't cure her. I couldn't help her. I'd done everything I could, so why the hell did I feel guilty? I didn't need to wonder for long. Mother knew. Mother knew everything, after all.

"How long has it been, Freyna? Since you stopped seeing me as a person?" she asked. My heart clenched, and composure broke.

"I… I'll talk to you tomorrow, Mother," I said, the words stabbing me like knives.

"I'll feel better then. Right?" she asked. She hadn't even noticed.

"R-Right." I fled the room. Regained my composure almost immediately, but I walked briskly, ignoring servants and staff as I passed. When I finally reached the safety of my own room, I pulled out my notebook and tore out a page. As meticulously as I could, I began to shred the paper into tiny pieces with wind magic. It was a waste of paper. It was the best use for it. Better paper than something that could actually feel.

"Snowflake?" came a sudden voice. A knock came just behind.

"Go away!" I shouted. The door opened.

"Freyna? What…" Uncle Clestar paused and noticed the papers. The tears. His eyes hardened, and softened at the same time.

"Whatever she said, it's not your fault, Snowflake. I know more than anyone how sharp her words can be…" he said. So very softly. I turned and ran to him, burying my face in his chest, sobbing.