Night had settled over Windfield, blanketing the quiet town with a serene calm. The house, modest yet warm, hummed with the soft rhythm of familial life. The magical lamps in the hall cast a golden glow, creating long shadows that flickered gently against the walls. Everyone was home, their presence filling the space with a comforting familiarity.
In the kitchen, the gentle crackle of magical stoves broke the silence. Vivian, Emma’s mother, stood at the counter, her movements fluid and calm as she prepared dinner. Her dark blonde hair, streaked with faint traces of ash, gleamed in the lamplight. The rhythmic sound of her knife against the wooden cutting board echoed softly as she chopped an array of green vegetables... green tomatoes, green onions, green peppers, and green peas. The vibrant hues reminded Emma of the Green Festival of Windfield, an annual celebration that brought the entire town to life with its lively music and fragrant food stalls.
Emma peeked into the kitchen, her gaze drawn to the warm scene. The magical stoves cast a faint blue glow, their flames dancing beneath the heavy iron pans. Vivian’s white eyes, striking and luminous, remained focused on her work. Emma smiled mischievously and crept further in, her footsteps light against the wooden floor. Hiding behind the pantry door, she crouched down, her heart racing with excitement. She felt a playful urge to act childish for once, to scare her mother just a little.
But before she could make her move, Vivian’s voice cut through the air.
“Emma, come help me with the pan,” her mother said without even turning around.
Emma blinked in surprise, her plan foiled. She found me, she thought with a wry smile, stepping out from her hiding spot. She walked over to the large shelf where the pans were stored, selecting the biggest one. It gleamed faintly, its surface polished from years of use. She handed it to Vivian, who rinsed it under the faucet with practiced ease before placing it on the stove.
“Thank you, dear,” Vivian said warmly.
Emma watched as her mother poured oil into the pan. The liquid shimmered as it spread across the hot surface, the faint scent of it mixing with the earthy aroma of freshly chopped vegetables.
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“So, Mom,” Emma began, her tone curious, “what are we cooking today?”
Vivian turned to her daughter, her lips curling into a gentle smile. Her unique white eyes rested on Emma, a look of fondness and quiet pride flickering in them. Emma tilted her head, her curiosity piqued.
“What?” Emma chuckled softly, her voice teasing. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Vivian’s smile deepened, and she shook her head lightly. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she said, pausing briefly. Then, her expression softened further. “I’m just a little surprised at how mature you’ve grown. It feels like just yesterday.”
Emma laughed nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. Her thoughts turned inward for a moment. Well, it’s a long story, and one you probably wouldn’t want to hear, she mused silently.
“Well,” Vivian continued, turning her attention back to the ingredients on the counter, “tonight we’re making Mashed Beef Rice. It’s a little delicacy I learned in Eldo-Clearoth when I was younger.”
Emma’s eyes lit up with interest as she watched her mother gather the chopped vegetables... tomatoes, onions, peppers, and peas... and toss them into the pan. The sound of the sizzling oil filled the room, and the aroma began to change, richer and more inviting with each passing moment.
As the vegetables cooked, Vivian moved toward the magical freezer at the far end of the kitchen. It opened on its own as she approached, revealing an assortment of preserved ingredients. She reached for a large cut of green beef and a container of mashed potatoes, the transparent lid allowing the creamy texture to show.
Carrying them back to the counter, Vivian opened the container and added the mashed potatoes to the pan. The aroma intensified, a savory blend of spices and freshness that made Emma’s stomach rumble softly.
With her knife in hand, Vivian began slicing the green beef into neat, precise pieces. Each cut was perfectly uniform, her skill evident in the fluidity of her movements. Emma marveled at how professional her mother’s technique looked, almost as if she had spent years as a master chef. The beef joined the pan, its vibrant color standing out against the golden hues of the frying potatoes and vegetables. Using a wooden spoon, Vivian stirred everything together, the ingredients melding into a harmonious blend.
Emma’s gaze lingered on her mother, admiration filling her chest. But a question had been tugging at her thoughts all evening, and now seemed like the right time to ask.
“Mom,” Emma began hesitantly, her voice soft but steady. “Could I… could I learn healing magic?”
Vivian paused mid-stir, the wooden spoon resting against the edge of the pan. A faint smile touched her lips as she turned to face her daughter.
“Well…”