Hey, isnât that ASHA EDARA-BAKSH. I thought they went away for the summer? Did you hear they might be a WITCH, and have a connection to SAGAâS COVEN? What I do know for certain is that theyâre 32, and theyâre LIONHEARTED and SHORT-TEMPERED. Theyâre originally from LONDON, UK, and have been back to FENRIRSWOOD for TWENTY-FIVE YEARS living in WOOD ROAD. I wonder if they still work as a BARRISTER. Best if they stay safe for now.Â
TW: murder, death, trauma, ptsd
Youâre born on the cusp of spring, bringing forth vitality and hope to a family in desperate need of it. You fill once-barren arms and they call you a miracle, a slim chance, an unlikely hope â magic. Because itâs magic that cursed your motherâs womb and magic that healed it. You healed it, somehow. Your magic is strong, and your presence is stronger, demanding to be heard, to be felt. You blow into every room like a hurricane and they wonder if youâll have an affinity for air, flitting from one place to another, without a care in the world. Your footsteps are so sure, so confident for such a small thing and they wonder if youâll instead ground yourself in earth. But your temper. Oh your temper is explosive from the start, a volcano set to erupt at a momentâs notice and theyâre sure youâll fan the flames within yourself, that fire that was there the moment you were born.
Instead, water calls your name. And you hate it. Youâre at war with yourself from the start. Water is fluid. Water can be fixed. It can be as hot as a summerâs day as cold as winterâs night, and so can you. But you hate it. The push and pull tears at you even from a young age. You struggle with your magic but your mother and father have an abundance of patience. After all, they waited so long for you to arrive. So when your magic shows, even when you struggle with it, theyâre right beside you. Until theyâre not.
Youâre seven now, and you feel older than ever but youâre still too young to know what blood-feud means. What consequences curses actually carry. Youâre too young to understand whatâs happening when magic fails your parents. When youâre woken up in the middle of the night by the sounds of glass shattering and the noise of voice yelling. By chaos. You hide, or you try to, and you tell yourself to be brave until they break down your bedroom door. You donât remember if you cried. You donât remember anything but the white hot heat of fire, the searing pain of flame kissing flesh, and the sound of your own screams filling your ears.
When you wake, youâre surrounded by somewhat familiar faces. Neesa and Amir Baksh. Your parents' best friends. But your parents arenât there. Itâs so strange, to wake up in a hospital, arms wrapped like a mummyâs, not a parent in sight. So you ask, voice hoarse and wheezing. It feels like glass scratching the inside of your throat and it feels like glass piercing your heart when they tell you. But that doesnât make sense. Your parents arenât gone. Theyâre not dead. Thatâs impossible. Your father, so strong and solid, and your mother, so fierce and protectiveâŚthey wouldnât leave you. They wouldnât. They wouldn't. They wouldnât. And who are Neese and Amir anyway? How close were they actually? You reach for your magic, for that stormy ocean that lives inside you and findâŚnothing. You try again and again and again and youâre hysterical, explanations of a centuries-old feud, of bad blood, of how theyâd arrived too late for your parents but just in time to save you from the worst of it â they mean nothing but they still fill your dreams when you drift off, magic soothing you into sleep.
Your parents werenât part of a coven. Theyâd long since struck out on their own, thinking that London would be vast enough to protect them. To protect you. You have no one but the Baksh family who take you in as one of their own.
Life looks different now. Youâre part of a coven. You have siblings. But itâs not the same and you spend the first years of your life in Fenrirswood resistant to all of it. Your magic is stubborn. It takes nearly two years for it to come back. For you to feel it again. The coven leaders say itâs been there all along, simply dormant and waiting for you to be ready but you donât feel ready. You still feel like that scared girl, hiding under your bed. Youâve seen what magic can do, youâve felt the sting of it used like a blade, cutting through opponents mercilessly. Youâve felt the loss and barren wasteland it leaves behind.
You donât want it. You resist it. And the storm rises up in you again, waves crashing against your ribcage. Let us out. Let us out. You resist until you canât. When you answer the call and open that door, itâs a tsunami rolling over you. Everyone says itâll take time, of which you never feel like you have enough of. And patience, which you know you definitely don't. But something pushes you forward. An invisible force that tells you your parents wouldâve wanted you to move on. To grow. You continue to fight it but a little less each day until, one day, you donât even notice that voice is gone. Itâs just you, and your magic.
Itâs your magic that heals you in a way your new family couldnât. You throw yourself into training, each instructor reporting to your parents that youâre impatient. Demanding. Impatient. Volatile. Impatient. Obsessive. Impatient. But you need to be. Because magic is what keeps out the nightmares. What keeps you from waking up screaming, just before the flames of your nightmares consume you. Itâs what keeps you connected to your parents, what keeps their spirits alive with you, helping you. Comforting you.
So the years pass. You improve your magic but not your patience. You speak your mind, even when you shouldnât, and you drive your parents crazy with the trouble you get yourself into. But even they would prefer a third call to the principalâs office because you were outspoken in class to watching you sleep the days away in bed when waves of sadness hit. And they still do. It doesnât matter how much time goes by, there are days when it threatens to overwhelm you. On days when they should be there, you withdraw into yourself, cocooning yourself to the world, the stormy sea calms and gives way to something darker beneath the surface. Grief is a stone in your pocket, weighing you down at times. You miss your graduation from uni because of it. But sometimes that same grief is what drives you forward. Determinations that no one ever goes through what youâve been through.
You think you can make a difference. You think that there are people, witches or otherwise, who are trying to escape situations that have become chains around their lives. Like your parentsâ fear had been. Choking them until they died by the hands of those whoâd wish them harm. You donât know if youâre cut out for it but you become a barrister, working towards a future where no little girl, magical or otherwise, has to hide under her bed again.
When the bodies start piling up, you leave your busy life in London and return home to Fenrirswood. Questions fill every conversation and while answers are sparse, youâre confident in your decision to come home. Youâve already lost one and youâll be damned if another slips through your fingers. So you ball your hands into fists, holding on tightly to the things that matter most.
Played by G.
Portrayed by Sobhita Dhulipala.
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