Kaden heard the muted thrumming mere seconds before he noticed the ebony disks floating above his bed. There were four of them, perfectly circular, hovering about three feet above the bed.

They hadn’t been there when he’d gone to bed. He was sure of that. He was also sure he had no idea where they’d come from. He wasn’t asleep, only having been snuggled under his blankets for about three minutes.

Kaden hadn’t seen them come flying in, they were just there.

He kept his green eyes focused on the one closest to his face, studying it. It was opaque, pitch-black, and just under a foot in diameter. The room, lit by a pale glow from the full-moon, was starkly visible around the perfectly cut edges of the disk.

The hum he heard emanating from the disks, each of the four having a different pitch, made an eerily melodic sound in the quiet room.

Kaden watched the disks warily, but they didn’t move. Until he reached toward the bedside table and the bronze lamp waiting there.

The abrupt movement of the floating objects held Kaden’s hand for a split-second, but, as if sensing his intention to turn on the light, the disks darted down, slamming into his prone body.

The searing pain, although only seconds long, knocked Kaden’s breath from his lungs. Gasping for air, Kaden rolled from his bed, knocking the lamp from the beside table. He scrambled for the light switch beside his bedroom door, flipping the lever up and flooding the room with bright light.

Kaden searched his legs, stomach and chest for signs of the disks, anything they may have left behind on their entry into his body. But he found nothing.

His heart beating wildly, Kaden crawled back into his bed, leaving the overhead light blazing. He dozed fitfully during the night, never fully allowing himself to drift into a deep sleep.

With the sun peeking over the tree-tops, Kaden sat up in his bed, relieved the night, and nightmare, was finally over.

When he went to wake his son up for school, however, Kaden knew something had changed, forever. His son’s usually bright blue eyes were darkened, turned from near royal to navy. The smirk on his eight-year-old’s face was menacing.

As was the boy’s voice, asking, “Why did you try to fight it, Daddy?”


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