Inked Sapphire (Dear Dahlia Season 3)

8

Beyond the woods was another town. Rahim’s father, Jamil, often went there to work. He’d trek through the woods with his tools, and emerge on the other side, ready to help fix a leaky sink or a pipe. Rahim would stay at home with his mother, Adena, helping her tend to the garden from which they picked fruits to sell on the market. Once they were picked, he made them shine in ways that seemed impossible.

Ravkan soldiers, grisha or otherwise, roamed the town sometimes. Every time, Adena would whisper, “stop what you’re doing and go to the closet.” Sometimes Rahim obeyed, sometimes he didn't, depending on what would seem less suspicious. When the Ravkan grisha squinted and watched his hands, Rahim would stop using his power altogether. In this way, he avoided being drafted.

One day, Jamil came back, his eyes wild. Rahim stood in front of Adena and asked what was wrong.

“She’s back,” he said.
“Who?” Rahim asked. He clutched Adena’s hand. His mother tried to step in front of him to protect him, but he wouldn’t let her.
“You know who!” Jamil hissed, and Rahim watched as his father started to pace back and forth. He rambled on about The Shadow Girl, the djinn, and the paranoia he felt. It was the first time Rahim had been afraid of him.

Finally, Adena placed her hands on Jamil’s shoulders. “Stop,” she said gently. “Come, sit. Rahim and I have made dinner. Forget this now, please.” Her hand trembled as she touched his cheek. She then rested her head on his chest as Jamil wrapped his arms around his wife’s waist. “You have us. That’s all that matters,” she whispered.

Jamil’s eyes cleared. “It is,” he said over and over, like a mantra. Rahim stood a way away, watching his parents, feeling his heart break.

_

Saida opened her eyes. She was in the dark. Immediately, her heart lurched, and she looked around for the man dressed in black who had tortured her for a decade, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Shakily, and hastily, Saida lit a candle. She shook the match and let the smell of smoke fill the room. Then, she opened her window a bit and checked the clock. 3am.

Saida lay there in the stillness, trying to wrap her head around the fact that she was home now. No four poster bed, or lush carpet. Just simplicity. She glanced at the teddy bear on her desk and remembered the time she’d destroyed her room. It felt silly now, but at the time, it was cathartic, like she’d hurt Kirigan by doing it. She’d come back and had to tidy it up, but now, she could make it her own. The heartrender had her anatomy books from the Little Palace strewn on her desk. In front of her on the wall, was a picture of a heart she once drew because she was bored and the other grisha hadn’t woken up yet. And of course, her emerald necklace lay on her nightstand.

Saida remembered what she wanted to be before being taken away to the Little Palace. She remembered she wanted to create explosions and make concoctions that were full of colour. But with a decade of the Little Palace under her belt, the heartrender didn’t really want to do that. She glanced at the anatomy books and sighed softly. Not knowing what she wanted was a challenge, but having her power was enough for now.

Saida began to practise lowering and raising her heartbeat to push away the dark.