Tanvi fished a lozenge out of her pouch and downed it. She flowed right under the doors and into the archives.

The fancy shelves of books and scrolls, the dreamstones for decoration—she’d seen them all before. She might not remember the doors, but she’d definitely been here. It was where Nayan had initiated the runners. Except then, instead of the silver-white sliver of moon against a starry black sky, waves of aquamarine light had poured in from above, straight out of a cartoon set underwater.

And that giant desk, with its registry Tanvi had tried to read . . .

A fragment of memory bubbled up now. Ignoring the horrible jellyfish stinging, she gave in to it.

The dream runner initiation. You all know what comes next, Nayan had said. Madhu and I will permanently release you from the pain.

Waiting in line for her turn, with the pretty teal light and glowing jewels everywhere, Tanvi had felt like a mermaid under the sea. She’d bounced on her toes and hummed to herself.

One by one, Nayan stilled the candidates’ hearts, silencing them so they could never hurt again. Tanvi watched their faces change when they came out of the little appraisal room. They stopped crying and hitting one another. It seemed like a great thing.

But the shorter and shorter the line got, the more nervous Tanvi became.

Even if Nitya was the Worst Sister in History, did Tanvi really want to forget her for always?

So she’d distracted herself by tiptoeing over to the registry. It was such a big, pretty book—Tanvi knew its gold-edged pages must be packed with fairy tales about unicorns and flying horses and magic wands. She wanted to read every one of those stories. Not just that—she wanted to be in them.

A hand had come down hard on her shoulder. Sharp nails pierced her sleeve.

Madhu had looked so scary, a witch in a grandmother’s skin, like the wolf that ate Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother and then put on her frilly cap and nightgown. Get back in line, Madhu had snapped, and for a second, Tanvi was sure she’d rippled, her contours going blurry. Like a mirage that had sprung out of the registry. Or go back home.

You’re mean, Tanvi retorted, scooting toward the line.

But Madhu had already moved on by.

That decided things. If this was how people were, Tanvi was done caring about them. Done letting them matter. She didn’t need her stupid heart.

When Nayan waved her forward, he asked one question: Do you choose this?

Yes, she’d said, totally sure. Yes, she did.

Then come, he’d said, and led her into the tiny room.

The memory cut off there.