“Lady Claybrook, your tea.” A student came to Dolly’s side and presented to her an ornate cup of grey tea.

In the months since her first victory against Julien, Dolly’s skill increased daily. She clenched her jaw and through her entire soul into learning the sword. She found herself becoming stronger, faster, more perceptive. The world around her became so much more detailed and vibrant. The taste of the air more crisp, the sounds clearer.

Thanks to these, she grew exponentially. It wasn’t enough for her. She pushed herself to greater and greater lengths in her search for power. Finally, before she knew it, she amassed a...following, let’s say. People who admired her beauty and skill, her sheer talent.

Dolly did not care for their looks of worship. But for her goals, she used them. Soon enough, Dolly had gained total control over her classroom and created a faction for herself.

Haytham was a hard place. Unruly, wild. The Nobles here did as they pleased and so did the other students with skill or a strong family backing. Dolly and Julien, somehow, ended up the targets for these people.

Dolly for her beauty, Julien for his strength. Julien was disgusted with their wanton behavior and planted himself against these delinquents. Dolly rebuked their advances and soundly beat anyone who approached her. Due to this, the two of them had entered a sort of alliance.

Once sides had been drawn, they two began working to clean up this rotten school. Dolly could not care less for how bad the situation was, but it was disturbing her training. So together, she and Julien formed factions whose goal was to bring order and discipline.

When the warring had ended, the school was split. Julien and Dolly controlled an equal part of the students, and even some teachers. The unruly scum? They were done away with. Julien kept his faction righteous. Dolly? She ruled with and iron fist, her heart cold and still without the warmth of Day.

Right now, she sat under an outdoor gazebo, staring at a pond some feet away. Haytham had little spots of beauty like this, and she controlled many. The teachers didn’t care. They had long since lost interest in the students. They were all corrupt themselves, and even the new Headmaster, Gladstone, was finding it difficult to clean up their more unsavory activities. In fact, Gladstone liked that at least the worst of the students were now under control.

The teachers had to be dealt with, and some like Miss Veronica were careful in covering their tracks. But in time, they would all come under his heel. Or so he claimed. Dolly gave not a single care. She wanted to be left alone to train, that was all.

And to that end? She took in these naughty children into her faction long ago. To serve as practice. She would beat them periodically. Without mercy, without any regard for their lives. To her they served the purpose of helping her gain even greater excellence in her swordsmanship and whether they lived or died...mattered not.

These days, she found herself much crueler in this way. No longer did she laugh or smile as she used to. No longer was she that bright, cheerful Dolly.

She was the Red Dahlia, now. Or as she was called by her faction when they thought she could not hear them. This had become a nickname as her hands became stained with the blood of any dissidents during the first days of her rule. Those dissidents did not remain disobedient for long.

Why was this happening to her, one may wonder? Why had she become so callous?

It was love. Or rather, the lack of. Dahlia swung her sword each day like a woman possessed, but there was a gaping hole in her heart that could never be filled until the day she met with her beloved brother once again.

“I’ve never known the world with such clarity before,” She whispered to herself. “Yet there is no color. No meaning without him at my side.”

She missed him. So much that it physically pained her. Dahlia tried to be strong, but dreams plagued her. There were many times throughout these months that she would feel disturbances in the world.

Like she was losing him to another. As if someone wanted to take him from her. It drove her crazy. Dahlia became paranoid. Who was it? Who was trying to steal her Day?

She’d gut them. Peel the flesh from their bone, grind them to dust...

Love was a powerful thing. To Dahlia, it was overwhelmingly so. WIthout feeling the love of her brother, she was changing for the worse. Thing is, she had to endure. There would come a time when Day would need her strength.

And a time when she would need it, too, for a fury burned her like a scorching fire each time she thought of that man, Elias. It was he who was the cause of Dahlia’s heartache. Separating her from her brother was the one thing that was unforgivable. There is no graver offense than telling her she could not be with her brother. It was like tearing her heart out and crushing it.

So that man had to pay. Had to suffer as Dahlia suffered now. And her revenge would come. That, she promised.

“Tell Julien I wish for a spar.”

11 wins, 50 loses.

For her brother, she didn’t care how long it took to turn each loss into a victory. As many times as she failed, she would stand back up and put her life on the line for a win.

There was a Devil in her that refused to give up.

And someday, that Devil would be unleashed upon them all.

A world that rejects our love doesn’t need to exist.

***

“She’s an amazing girl.”

That was his evaluation of her. Julien had lost count of how many times he’d watched her struggled to her feet just like this. Fighting him tooth and nail, never cowering from the fight.

Every time, every single time, she’d fight him until she was absolutely covered in wounds. They’d changed from wooden swords to dulled blades, but given the intensity she demanded of him that didn’t matter. She’d become riddled with cuts.

Even so, she had iron in her.

Julian was utterly fascinated.

There’s no doubt, Dahlia is not a good person. She treated people like a means to an end and ruled her faction like a dictator. Fear of her kept them in line, little more. And then there were her zealots who’d gladly give their lives at the order.

She was cruel, ruthless, careless. Everything he should despise. And yet..he didn’t. Couldn’t. For under all that, he saw something broken and sad. But in that brokenness, in that sadness, she drew strength. Used it as fuel.

Each time he looked at her, it was like she was crying. For something, someone. And it was crushing. Heart-shattering. When she gazed at him, Julien knew she did not see him. She saw something beyond him. And she pursued it blindly, doggedly. It was as if she was blind to everything else.

What did she seek so obsessively? Or who?

The question ate at him. For only the second time in his life, Julien wanted to know the mind of a woman. His adoptive sister, Evie, was similar. They hadn’t known each other long, but Julien understood there was something broken in Evie, too.

Just like with Dahlia, she also had some goal Julien could never know. It burned in their eyes like a fire.

But unlike Evie, who was quiet and subdued. She had not even begun her journey. There was an air of hopelessness about the girl that kept her silent.

Dahlia, on the other hand, showed much more determination to actually meet her goal. Julien had never known someone with such ferocity. Someone who could be so cruel to themselves just to reach some distant objective.

It was mesmerizing. She was mesmerizing.

“Again!” Dahlia snarled. She rose unsteadily to her feet, but her sword was as still as a mountain. It was a perfect stance.

Julien had long since given up trying to reason with her. He readied his blade to meet her’s.

This time belonged to them alone.

I’ll make her see me, too, someday.

11