All night long, strange nightmares come and go. I slip in and out of restless sleep, tossing and turning in the bed. I dream of screams, darkness, and the glint of a knife.

Something isn’t right.

Several times, I wake to peek into the bassinet beside the bed. Gia’s eyes are closed, and her breathing is normal. She seems to be sleeping just fine, and Keryth is out cold. The palace is quiet, so I must be the only one having problems.

I take solace in Keryth’s arms, letting him hold me as I try to shake the bad feeling away.

Dawn is on the horizon when I finally sink into a deep sleep. It doesn’t last long, though.

“Mother!” Crash.

Kirian’s scream wakes me, and Keryth and I shoot up from the bed.

“Mother! Father!” More knocking and bumping.

I’ve never heard Kirian sound so terrified. When he was a toddler, he was scared of frogs. He’d screech and cling to me whenever we saw one.

But I’ve never heard the gut-wrenching shout he’s yelling now.

I run down the hall, thinking maybe he had a fitful night of sleep, too. Maybe he’s suffering from some horrible nightmare.

When I throw his door open, I find him on the floor. He’s groping at the rug, his hands patting the colorful surface in a wide arc. The nightstand is knocked over, and the blankets are tangled around his feet.

“Kirian, what’s wrong?” I drop to my knees next to him. “Are you hurt?”

“I can’t see,” he sobs, his fingers bumping my knee before grasping my nightgown. “I can’t see anything.”

“What?” Shocked, I cup his face and turn it toward me. “Look at me.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” He’s blinking, but his gaze is blank. Unfocused. “There’s nothing. It’s just blackness everywhere.”

“How could this be? Keryth!”

“I’m here.” His deep voice comes from right behind me. I glance back to see him standing in the doorway with a sleepy Gia in his arms. There’s a look of bewilderment and fear on his face.

I scoot closer to Kirian. His whole body is shaking, and I feel helpless as I rub his back.

“This must be temporary, sweetheart.” I hug him, then send another worried glance to my husband. “He was fine ten hours ago. Everything was normal. People don’t just go blind overnight.”

But even as I say it, I know I’m wrong. Something happened last night. I just don’t know what it was.

I don’t have to wonder for very long.

A few seconds later, the balcony doors fly open, which shouldn’t be possible since only three people have the ability to unlock them. I can’t see beyond the railing because there’s a thick fog.