Gritting his teeth, Azriel clenched his fist tight—then something flickered at the edge of his vision. Surprise tugged a meaningless smile onto his face as he looked at Mirius.
"No different from you? I understand. You must have loved your wife—so much that, just as I'm going to such lengths to keep my sister alive, you… you made sure she was the last person you ever saw. Her colors were the last thing you allowed into your eyes before you tied on a blindfold, so hers would be the only colors you'd see—until your death."
Mirius's face hardened.
"…Given you knew my identity, I suppose it's expected you know about my [Unique Skill]. But who told you why I wear a blindfold?"
He was genuinely perplexed. That Azriel knew of his [Unique Skill] wasn't surprising; anyone who knew the name Corven Draumirius Zevrak knew his gift—the ability to see emotions, to see feeling itself, as colors.
It had no switch. It never turned off. Some called it a curse. Mirius never had.
