“Sarah! Sarah!” A woman with beautiful dark brown hair held up a small sunflower head to show Validity. “Look, the petals match your hair!”

  Validity felt the flower brush his ear as his mother put it in. Oh, it’s this dream again. He thought. Still as clear as ever…

  Validity knew this dream very well. In fact, sometimes he had it twice a moon. It was the same every time: Mother sitting with him in an endless field of sunflowers, her smile brighter than the blue sky above. Was it a lost memory from his childhood? Validity didn’t know. But he was thankful nonetheless. This place had become a safe space for him, a place where he could pretend he was normal again. What other dream could possibly beat these rolling green hills?

  The only part that Validity didn’t like was that he wasn’t actually himself. He was five again, and he still had the appearance of a young girl. When he was born, his parents tried to hide his gender. That probably didn’t work very well though, because he was sent to the Constructory all the same.

  Validity found that he couldn’t really connect with “Sarah,” the innocent child he was before. And that wasn’t just because his hair had grown darker and his skin had become scarred. This part of himself was faraway and foggy. It was like he was a cloud looking down at mist settling down on mountains below him. Perhaps he could somewhat connect with Sarah, but they weren’t the same. At least, that’s what he told himself to avoid thinking about his distant family.

  Now that I think about it, Validity pondered, falling back onto the soft grass to watch some birds go by, This dream is… incredibly detailed. It feels realer than normal. He squinted, observing as his vision blurred in response. Something about this feels strange. As he sat back up again to look at the flower crown his mother was making, it hit him.

  Her face. Validity could see his mother’s face.

  In all of his other dreams, her face was just an impression. A hazy impersonation of the woman he imagined her to be. But now, it was painted in striking detail. Long eyelashes framed fiery orange eyes that reminded him of fresh marmalade. Her nose was straight and delicate, just like his. It was as if he was looking at her in real life.

  She looked up to meet his eyes. “I really wish we could stay here forever…”

  Validity did a double take. Huh? Did she just say something to me?

  His mother sighed, her soft eyes closing as a warm wind swept against her face. “...or that I could save you from your fate.”

  Yes, she was definitely talking to Validity. Suddenly, his hands were his own, and he found himself taller than his mother. His hair was back to ear-length. He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Instead, the words that he tried to form seemed to be carried away into the wind. Why can’t I speak?

  “I can’t let you talk… I’m sorry,” The woman became a blurry image in front of Validity, and he realized his eyes were full of tears. Particles swam in his vision as he failed to wipe them away. Mother continued, “There’s no time for conversation, so listen very closely, dear.”

  Validity found that he could give a simple nod. He didn’t understand— her voice seemed so alive. Her words were fluid with a warm timbre, sharp and loud like real voices were. They didn’t fade into the background as they often did when Validity dreamed. No, this was different.

  Mother leaned forward and brushed Validity’s hair out of his face. “The world is going to get pretty bad for a while,” she started, eyes filled with sadness. “And I’m sorry to say you’re going to be caught right in the middle of it. But it has to happen.”

  His mother plunged her hand into the grass below, sifting through the petals and pulling out a small jewel embedded in a necklace. It was beautiful, luminescent spirals of light swirling inside its moon-white body. When she dropped it in Validity’s hand, a shiver went down his spine. He desperately tried to ask her what it was, but every word was lost to the breeze.

  “Take this, as a reminder of our blessing. You’re about to be very important in Aegnad’s future, my child.” She closed Validity’s hands around the jewel, gazing at him with an unreadable expression.

  Validity couldn’t believe it. Our blessing? What does that even mea— Validity’s thoughts were cut off by bright light, which cut through his mind. A numbing cold wrapped itself around him, and the dream started to shatter at the feel of its embrace. He held his arms out to try and grasp the last fragments of the dream, but it was no use.

  Sure enough, he was now back in his room, lying on the same old bamboo flooring. His body was sprawled across the floor, the thin futon tossed aside. Validity rolled over and held up an arm to shield him from the hot sunlight piercing through the window.

  What even was that dream? Holy Kine, Validity! You need to get yourself together. The shiver from the jewel still crawled over his back. Ugh…creepy. Why’d my stupid imagination have to interrupt my dream?

  Validity slapped his face and hopped up from bed. He felt his cheeks flush red as he recalled what his mother had said. I’m proud of you? How childish! He really needed to forget about his past life already. Votaries weren’t allowed to have families, and Validity hadn’t even seen his mother since he was very young. Now, fourteen years later, her image was completely gone from his memory. He didn’t even know if the woman he saw in the dream was Mother. She may have been a servant, a caretaker, or even a friend’s mother. He had no way of knowing. Despite this, Validity’s heart hurt, and a dark cloud of uneasiness and dread followed him as he did his morning routine.

  Validity slipped on his plain black tunic, the one he wore every day and washed every night. Along with simple trousers and leather-heeled boots, the outfit was what every Votary wore. Though, after a dream where he had his own clothes, Validity realized how uncomfortable it was. The clothes he wore were never made for him— they were made with an adjustable waist and a drawstring in the back. Validity didn’t own anything, not even himself. Soon, he would belong to a noble, ready to be switched out the moment he died as if he was a pair of old shoes. This wasn’t the first time he wrestled with the truth, but suddenly it was all too real.

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  When he was done getting ready, he headed outside to the hallway. Each room was built directly next to each other, forming long columns of doors and lanterns that stretched for about a thousand paces on each side. The buildings were cut out of stone—just like the rest of the facility. Wooden support beams, bamboo flooring, and marble tiles were installed throughout the Constructory, but the foundation was completely cut out of a plateau. It was a wonder that the place even existed, since magic had been lost for a very long time. Validity assumed that it had been built before magic disappeared. Other votaries walked along as well, faces tense with anticipation. For those who scored low, life was about to get ugly. He quickly pushed down the anxiety that rose up when he saw those grave expressions.

  Validity solemnly let his feet take him out of the hallway and into the courtyard, which was adorned with a large spring in the center. Validity usually stopped to fetch a water skin, but not today. Roll call was happening earlier than usual to account for graduation.

  A couple of younger boys ran across the lot, one of them laughing at the other. It seemed that it was just yesterday that Validity was that small, but he couldn’t ever remember being that happy. Was being a votary that normalized in the foreign colonies now? He imagined that it was probably an aspiration for some boys. Kine, I bet some of the older kids are even jealous of the ones that get taken, Validity thought with exasperation. The cutoff age is twelve, so it’s entirely possible… The thought made him want to throw up.

  At roll call, Validity took his place next to 264 and 266. They barely regarded him, as always, though somehow even less than usual. They probably knew Validity was going to be shipped off soon and replaced with a new 265. The pair looked solemn, and 264 had eyebags almost extending to his cheekbone. It was clear that their scores weren’t up to snuff. Validity would’ve felt guilty, but 264 and 266 didn’t work hard like he did. He earned his score through constant training. Maybe some votaries aimed to be kicked out so that they could live a “normal life.” But Validity had heard from 907 how drop-outs were treated when they came back to the city. Validity would rather have honor than half-baked freedom.

  After an overseer went down the line, checking to see if everyone was there, the Head of the Constructory stepped up. He was a tiny old man, thin as a pole, but it was said that he used to be a votary for the Great Emperor. How this pruny unhuman suck-up became the Head was beyond Validity. Regardless of his physical ability, though, his authority always went unquestioned.

  “As you all know, today is Graduation Day, the one day in the year where we send fully trained votaries to their assigned posts. I hope those of you who are young will do your absolute best to be worthy of your future Graduation. Your life depends on it, after all.” The Head cleared his throat. “On that note, let me announce our Graduating votaries for the year. When your number is called, please proceed to the courtyard. You will be given your shipping date and your assigned post, along with other information.” Drool trickled from the Head’s lips as he spoke. Validity groaned inwardly.

  The Head went down the list. 667, 309… oh, 907! 735… All numbers I expected, Validity thought. When he was called up, he settled in line next to 907, giving him a weak smile. 907 nodded back subtly, running his hands through his bright red hair. Oh, he’s nervous… Honestly, I am too. The political landscape hasn’t been looking too great lately. For all I know, I could die in battle as soon as I leave the Constructory. Remembering his dream, Validity shivered.

  The group walked out to the courtyard, where an overseer started to hand out scrolls. A large wooden mask obscured any emotion on the overseer’s face, and their long black hair was tied into a bun. Most overseers looked like this, and Validity once thought it was because overseers had a rank similar to Votaries. He later learned that the real use of the masks was to prevent overseers from making friends with Votaries, though. Again, he felt a sinking feeling. How he wished to have at least been an overseer. It couldn’t be helped, though.

  Validity received his scroll and reconvened with 907, arriving to see a worried expression on 907’s face. He tapped his foot impatiently.

  “Let’s see,” 907 mumbled. “Aaaaahhh goootttt…” 907 opened his scroll, scanning the lines of text. “…Regent Iodine.”

  Validity and 907 stared at each other in disbelief for a long moment.

  “That’s…” 907 began, “… Not very great, is it?”

  Validity swallowed hard. Regent Iodine was known for executing his Votaries, servants, and even his wives for the smallest inconvenience. Being assigned to him wasn’t necessarily a death sentence, but it still wasn’t optimal. Not that votaries got to choose their assignments.

  “Ohhh,” 907 covered his mouth. “Ah think ah’m gonna be sick.”

  Validity had little comfort to give. He grimaced and shared a look with 907, moving his arm to pat the distraught redhead’s back.

  907 sighed, “Ah think ah’ll be happy if ya get some’un good, at least,” 907 gestured to Validity’s scroll. “Go on.”

  Validity tentatively opened his scroll and glanced over the contents. I’m being sent… today? That’s… unfortunate. He pointed to that section of text on his scroll. 907 frowned. Then, the pair’s eyes drifted down to Validity’s assignment.

  “Archduchess Althea? Who the hell is that?” Validity exclaimed, dumbfounded.

  “Ah have no idea,” 907 replied, clearly as confused as Validity was. “Ah thought the Emperor abolished that title ‘long time ago!”

  “Is it a misprint? It must be someone really old,” Validity thought aloud.

  That was the only explanation. Archdukes and archduchesses were demoted to simple dukes and duchesses for the sake of organization a while ago. What was it that their basic history lessons had said? Oh, yeah. ‘Nobody was worthy of the title, which had authority above even some family members of the Emperor,’ Validity remembered. How strange.

  “If that’s not it, Ah dunno what is,” 907 shrugged. He tilted his head, looking away from Validity. “More importantly…”

  “…I’m leaving today.”

  “Yup.” 907 gave him a strained smile. “That means this is goodbye, huh? Ah can even see the carriage rollin’ up from here,” he sighed, looking up at Validity. Despite his expression, his big green eyes were fraught with sorrow. Validity knew that this wasn’t the first time that 907 had been left behind. Did 907 try to smile back then, when his parents sold him? Or did he hide his grief with a smile, like he did now? “Don’ forget me, OK, 265?”

  Of course I won’t! Validity wanted to say, but he knew that the tightness in his throat would make the words come out in a croak. He gave 907 a tight nod instead.

  “That’s ‘nough of that,” 907 chuckled, noticing 907’s distraught expression. “Go on then, ya big softie!”

  907 shoved Validity toward the carriage, and Validity stumbled forward, boots scraping on the stone tile.

  “I’ll meet you when the Artifex aligns our paths!” Validity managed to shout behind his back as he hastened toward the carriage.

  907 cupped his hands around his mouth and called back, “When our sleep is everlasting!”

  It was a special goodbye, a prayer that even votaries had permission to use; a vow that the pair would meet somehow, someday, even if it was near impossible.

  Even if they had to die first to reunite.