Inked Sapphire (Dear Dahlia Season 3)

1

Baghra sat opposite Saida. Saida wanted to tear her kefta off - did the teacher even like it this hot?

"Do you know why he keeps sending you back here, girl?" The black-haired woman asked.
The fifteen-year-old shifted in her seat. "Yes," she replied.
"Your power is unstable," Baghra continued, as if she hadn't heard the heartrender's response. "And you don't want to fix it."

Saida leaned forward in her chair. "What?" she gasped.
"Don't be so foolish, girl. Close your mouth," the woman in black instructed. The teenager did just that, but muttered, "It's 'Saida', not 'girl'."

Baghra huffed a laugh out her nose. "You are the only student who keeps returning to me, and you're worried about what I call you?"

Saida didn't reply to that.

"Why is your power unstable?" Baghra asked. Saida felt like she was in an exam.
I'm powerful, the heartrender wanted to say. "I don't want to use it," is what she said instead.

The elderly woman's eyes narrowed. "Do not lie to me, girl. There is something else, isn't there?" Baghra tapped a long, bony finger on the arm of her chair. The rhythm was regular, and the sound unsettled Saida. She still didn't speak, but glanced down at the floor.

"There are rumours that you abandoned your family. That you ran to the Little Palace and didn't look back."

The elderly woman tilted her head to the side, watching the young heartrender keep silent. She noticed that Saida was clutching the folds of her kefta.

"Did you?" she asked simply.
"Did I what?"
"Abandon your family."
"No," Saida said, shaking her head. Her grip tightened on the folds bunched up in her hands. "I would never-"

Saida looked up and saw Baghra was swaying a bit. Eyes wide, the heartrender quickly dropped her hands. She could feel Baghra's heart stabilise. The elderly woman put a hand to her head.

"They say you have, girl. So, who is it? Who is holding you back?"
Saida looked at Baghra helplessly. "What-"

Baghra suddenly sat up in the chair, as if she'd realised something. Dread built up in Saida on seeing the look on her teacher's face.

"Your sister," Baghra spat out. "She's otkazat'sya."

The elderly woman's words hung in the air. The silence felt longer than it actually was. Saida opened her mouth to speak, but Baghra beat her to it.

"It is your sister who is holding you back."

Saida shot to her feet at that. "What?"
"Don't look at me like that, girl!" Baghra snapped. "You know I'm right."

"'Right'?" Saida let out a scoff of disbelief. "You think my sister, who I haven't seen in three years, is the reason my power isn't working? You need to get out of your hut more," the heartrender said, shaking her head.

Saida thought Baghra would say "Pah!", or even laugh that terrifying, angry laugh of hers, but instead, the teacher said, "you didn't need to mention that."
"What?"
"That you haven't seen her for three years."
Saida spluttered. "I-It's true!" she said, exasperated. "What's the point of this?"

Baghra pointed an accusatory finger at her. "You're avoiding her," she said, "and that is why your power is unstable! Your sister is always on your mind."
"That's not true-" Saida started, but then Baghra continued, "forget her! That is the only way you will harness your gift."

Saida's eyes widened. "Forget her?" She repeated. The heartrender raised her voice. "Forget her? You want me to forget my family?!"
"You abandoned her!" Baghra snarled. "What harm will forgetting do?"

Saida flinched at the remark. The memory of her departure came rushing back. Tears built up in her eyes. "You are horrid," she hissed at Baghra.
"I've been called worse," came the old woman's vicious reply.

It took a few seconds for Saida to blink back her tears. When she'd swallowed the lump in her throat, she spoke. "I'm not forgetting Dahlia," the fifteen-year-old said quietly. "She's my sister. No matter how hard you don't want her to be." The heartrender then turned on her heel, flung open the door and left. The door slammed shut behind her.

Baghra stood in her hut, the candles glowing softly in the darkness.

The memory of her cutting her sister in half rose up like a nasty beast. She remembered the shadows flinging from her fingers, and her sister falling to the ground.

The elderly woman replayed that moment over and over in her mind, heart beating faster, her breathing getting heavier. Then, she raised her hand, and with an angry snarl, lashed out with her power. The darkness circled in an arc, destroying the candles' light in an instant.

In the fireplace, the ever-glowing blaze merely flickered.