There was no honour greater than being a true dreamer. At least, that was what they said during the induction ceremony, enough times that even the most starry-eyed seer-to-be would have to start doubting it.

An honour, and a sacrifice, though they skimmed over that part as quickly as they could. Everyone knew about it, so there was no point in ruining such a proud, happy, honourable day by dwelling on it, right? The honour had to be greater than the sacrifice, or why were they there?

Why were they there, in the locked dormitories at the highest level of a tower said to be thrust as deep into the earth as it was into the sky? Like lying inside a child’s mobile hung with stars, so many stars, and the beds were more comfortable than most of the inductees had ever known, they exclaimed as much while snuggling into their pillows, but sleep had to be a trap there. Down mattresses and lavender-scented sheets, a butcher’s chopping block.

The hale, stern old man who had told them they were honoured above kings was famous for a reason, after all. For still having enough of his mind and body to stand on a dais and say so even after over twenty true dreams. The future twisted, tore, and shattered most of them long before they could look into it so many times.

How long would it take for them to have five true dreams? Ten, fifteen? The tower grew narrower towards the earth. There would be fewer of them by far when they finally descended to sleep among its mysteries. And at the bottom of it, the very point of that needle piercing bedrock and dream, there might only ever be room for one.