Three years had passed, and Cain had grown into a striking young boy of twelve. His silver hair had grown longer, cascading like moonlight down his back, and his midnight purple eyes still carried the same haunting stillness—the beauty of a starless sky. To the world, he was still the blind prince, the boy cursed with broken sight. But behind closed doors, a transformation had begun.
His fascination with magic had grown into an obsession. Every night before bed, Queen Sandra would read to him from ancient grimoires, whispering the arcane verses into his ears like lullabies. What few knew, however, was Cain's extraordinary mind—a memory so sharp it defied human limitations. He needed to hear something only once to understand it, to commit it perfectly to memory, to make it his.
And so, in darkness, Cain built his fortress.
He memorized spells, enchantments, theories of mana flow, the language of the stars, the calligraphy of elemental inscriptions—each one locked into his mind with flawless precision. His mother recognized it, nurtured it. But even she couldn't fully grasp the depth of what was growing inside her son.
Among all the spells he learned, there was one that called to him above all others:
Magic Domain.
It was a rare and ancient technique—a spell that allowed one to extend their magic through the land, to mingle their mana with the natural currents of the world around them. The environment would become an extension of the caster, granting perception far beyond human senses. To a normal mage, it was a tool for reconnaissance or territorial defense. But to Cain, it was something more.
It was the hope of vision.
For a boy who had never seen the world with his eyes, this technique could offer him a new kind of sight—an elemental vision formed by the shape of magic, outlines drawn in energy, allowing him to perceive the world in ways no ordinary eyes could match. And because its range depended on the caster's mana capacity, Cain's overflowing magic made him the perfect candidate.
Most mages would have failed to even comprehend the spell, let alone use it.
But Cain was not like most.
Even so, Magic Domain proved difficult. Though he understood the principles immediately, mastering it took longer than expected. A full month passed before he could maintain the spell properly. It was a grueling process—painful at times, draining always. But at last, he succeeded.
His radius was modest for now—a hundred meters. But within that hundred meters, the world unfolded.
The first face he saw was his mother's.
Not with sight, but through a vision of glowing lines etched against darkness—a sketch drawn by ambient magic. Sandra's beauty was undeniable even in that form. Her elegant posture, the curve of her gentle smile, the strength hidden in her poise—to Cain, she was a goddess who happened to birth him.
Then came Alyssa.
Her small form buzzed with life, and Cain could almost see her laughter when she moved. Though they were born of different mothers, Cain had never felt anything but love for her. And she, despite her youth, never saw his blindness—only his warmth.
Next came his father, King Alaric, and stepmother Oliver. They too appeared in his newly awakened vision, etched by magic into the canvas of his mind. Alaric's form was proud, his voice commanding. Oliver stood like a porcelain statue, flawless in form yet distant in warmth.
But even now, despite Cain's accomplishment, despite the miracle he'd achieved, their treatment of him had not changed.
King Alaric remained indifferent. To him, Cain was still a defect, a blemish on royal pride. And Lady Oliver—her gaze was cold steel veiled in silk. She had always tried to keep Alyssa away from Cain, calling it unfit for a future princess to associate with a cursed child.
Only Queen Sandra seemed to understand.
But even her supporters—the growing faction within the kingdom loyal to her—still did not know how to treat Cain. He was her son, yes. But he was also the blind prince, and to them, only Sandra deserved reverence. Her son, however brilliant, was still seen through the lens of his broken sight.
And yet, things were shifting.
Slowly, the rumors that once whispered of curses and defects began to fade. Whispers grew of a boy who could sense a heartbeat through walls, who knew when the wind would shift before it blew, who could reach for a cup without seeing and never miss. Cain's abilities, while not fully recognized, were beginning to unsettle the nobles.
He was too quiet. Too calm. Too aware.
And now that he could "see," something was changing in his presence.
He began to walk with greater precision. He could feel the world shifting around him. He knew when someone lied. When someone feared. When someone hated.
But he said nothing.
He listened. He watched with his new vision. He waited.
Until the day something... cracked.
In the royal court, before nobles and advisors, King Alaric addressed his council.
Sandra sat at his left, unreadable as ever. Oliver at his right, smiling with delicate restraint. And Cain, seated beside his mother, silent.
It was a typical day of policy discussion—until one arrogant noble scoffed and muttered under his breath, "Perhaps the Golden Princess should be groomed for the throne, not the blind mistake."
Cain heard it.
The room fell silent when Cain slowly stood.
He stepped forward, head raised, his expression unreadable. Magic flickered faintly at his fingertips.
"Say it again," Cain said, his voice low.
The noble turned pale.
Sandra said nothing.
Alaric's brows furrowed.
Oliver looked away.
"I said," Cain repeated, voice calm yet sharp, "say it again."
His eyes—those blind, beautiful eyes—glowed faintly with a violet sheen as his Magic Domain activated in full. Everyone in the court felt it—a pulse of mana so refined, so thick, the room warped slightly under its weight. The walls shimmered. The air trembled.
Cain didn't need to move.
The noble dropped to his knees, choking.
And then, Queen Sandra finally stood.
She placed a hand on Cain's shoulder and said, calmly,
"That's enough, my son. The time is not yet right."
Cain's magic withdrew.
But the message had been delivered.
The blind prince had seen.
And the kingdom would never look at him the same way again.