Tanvi heaved the mess of sheets aside and sat up. What if she could?

The residue of the nightmare still lingered; hopefully that would be enough.

Seconds later, Tanvi stood at the cabinet—had it always been painted like that?—reaching for a vacant dreamstone. The first one that came to hand was rose quartz. She uncorked it and set it on the table, then dug her fingers into her temples.

Until now, she had only ever imagined getting her boon and buying her bracelet, wallowing in the promise of how good it would feel. How satisfying. She wasn’t sure she even knew how to visualize anything else, but she had to try.

Her nerves firing with fear and hope both, Tanvi pushed past the usual likenesses of the bracelet and Nitya’s face. Then she tentatively opened to the new picture: reaping this newest nightmare. Freeing herself.

She’d only been on this side of harvesting once before, during her initiation. The memory unfolded now, and she welcomed it—a girl named Parul following Nayan’s instructions as Tanvi nodded off, sent under by the sleeping brew Asha had portioned out for her.

Parul had never actually touched Tanvi, but as she drowsed, she’d felt the harvesting energy like a magnet, tugging.

Tanvi screwed her eyes shut and homed in on the slimy residue. How it felt, letting it draw her back into the dream. It hurt at first, like stretching a muscle she never used, but then it transported her.

Nitya . . . the video game . . . Sameer . . .

Nitya laughing, glad she didn’t have a sister anymore.

Fire shot up Tanvi’s fingers and into her head. She yelped, her hand cramping, and only realized a second too late that she’d broken the connection.

The nightmare was gone.

No. Tanvi refused to accept it. She’d been so close to getting rid of all that for good.

One of the blisters rippled back up, more sketched in this time. Nitya, age six, scrawling in the mustaches on Sameer’s rock collection after Tanvi dared her to.

No. No, no, no. Tanvi flailed, hair whipping around her, until it abated. That wasn’t her past. It couldn’t be.

Gulping hard, she eyed the open vial. So she couldn’t harvest her dreams herself. But another runner could.

Maybe if Tanvi promised Indu her next boon, Indu would agree to do it for her. All those names, all those faces would be scrubbed away. She’d be free again.

It would mean waiting longer for the bracelet, but what choice did she really have?

No more memories. No more dreams. None of these distracting vases and rugs and smells and colors clamoring for her attention. Just a job she knew how to do with a reward she understood.

Her fingers drummed out a rat-tat-tat on the table. Daytime meant that the dream runners were resting.

Which meant Indu would be in her room.