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leaving this place anytime soon. We’re stuck here."
     
    That night, Kathryn shivered beneath her blankets and let her grief overtake her for the millionth time since the funerals. There weren’t any memories of happier times in the forefront of her mind or regrets of not doing this or that. She simply existed on the edge of a precipice where all of her loved ones were out of reach. Nobody comforted her or wrapped their little arms around her waist.
    She muffled her sobs; afraid some stranger might hear and investigate. Going over the events of today, she found that the most troubling aspect was not the confusion, fear or pain, but her apathy when she lay close to death. The only light in her room came from the firelight seeping under the door from the common room, so her eyes widened in panic when the black ceiling changed to white and images overwhelmed her.
    Kathryn floated high above the ground. The trees below her had odd bluish-green leaves with yellow tips that rustled in the light wind. A river flowed below to a large waterfall that cascaded over the cliffs and fell several hundred feet to a lake beneath. The soft swishing to her left drew her attention away from the ground to a group of about twenty knights flying in a diamond formation. Sir Lanclor led the group while Sir Garrent brought up the rear. A knight in the middle stood out with golden armor and wings among the dull grays and browns of the others.
    The scene blurred and her perspective changed. She stood next to the waterfall on one of the cliffs looking up at the knights. As they passed, black shapes concealed in the trees flew up toward the rear of the knights. Her blood ran cold while she watched the knights fight a losing battle. The roar of the falls didn’t drown out the crunch of the blows and the shrieks of agony. The golden knight, soaked in blood, fell toward the lake below as her vision blurred to darkness.
    Kathryn sat straight up in bed, gasping with confusion and dripping with sweat. She hadn’t fallen asleep yet, so how could she have dreamt that? She still heard the sound of battle and the cries of pain as if she had been there. Bowing her head into her hands, she wept for the fallen knights, not understanding her darker grief as the intense scene replayed itself in her mind. She knew their deaths would mark the beginning of the end.

Chapter 4
     
     
    Lanclor, Knight-Commander of the Knights of Av’lor, stood behind Mikael outside the door of a murderer’s farmhouse. Mikael had knocked upon the door some time ago and they waited underneath the misshapen overhang that did nothing to prevent the torrent of rain from reaching them. A single lantern flickered next to the door fighting to remain alight as the water seeped into a small crack along its side. The lantern revealed a wide-eyed militiaman as the door opened.
    "She's just through here, Guardsman Mikael."
    "Thank you," Royal Guardsman Mikael said as he motioned his men to remain outdoors. "I’ll take it from here." He opened the door and entered the small farmhouse with Lanclor close behind.
    Lanclor wrinkled his nose at the smell of blood. He was glad for his helmet. It wasn't professional for a knight to show any type of weakness. A single candle in the middle of a sturdy table provided the only light. Its flickering glow touched the woman sitting in a low chair with her hands clutched in her lap. She stared out the window into the black night heedless of the world around her. Her lips moved in a quiet conversation with herself.
    "Nalia, my name is Mikael. Can you tell me what happened?" Mikael's voice erupted from the shadows.
    She glanced at the Guardsman, and then turned back to the darkened window. She replied in a low voice filled with anguish. "He wasn't himself. I don't know what was wrong with him. Why did this happen? If only I—"
    "Please, tell me when you noticed something was wrong." Mikael’s patient voice made Lanclor envious. They shouldn’t have to wring a