It was the inky blackness that always caught him off guard in his waking moments. The nothingness of sight, but the sense of feeling that was almost otherworldly. The sense of touch that reminded him he still stood in the land of the living despite his many pleas not to leave him like this. A shell. A ghost. A hull of the man that he had once been.



General Tython Kotas, a veteran of a number of wars. But it had not been war that had taken his sight from him. It had been illness. A weakness in his body that had stolen the entirety of his world. There was no way to act in any military capacity when you could not see what you were commanding. Who you were commanding. He could no longer read the memos, briefs, smaller messages. He could no longer view maps and charts. He could no longer perform the essential duties of his position, and that was most frustrating of all.



The darkness had crept its way in slowly. First just a blip of shade here, a blink of lightlessness there. But then it had curled around his vision, and he could no longer ignore it. He could no longer pretend that there was not a problem that he could not solve. For all of his life experience, he was not a doctor and he could not diagnose himself even if it meant that he could hide the sudden weakness, helplessness that he felt. Tython had done his best to hide it from his children. From Yanni.



He had stopped insisting on driving when they went anywhere. He would not drive in a convoy. He wore his glasses more, though that did nothing. The spots in his vision slowly grew, and when he could no longer see his morning coffee as Yanni set it before him, or read the paper that Silas left at his side of the table, he knew he couldn't pretend any longer. His hand had ended up in his scalding coffee cup one too many times by that point, and worse yet, Tython could not even see the worried look on Yanni's beautiful features when concern knit her brow for her husband. The man had said nothing, wiped his hand on a napkin, and entirely ignored his cup after that.



The boys had left to class and to work, and Yanni had dropped Athanasia off to school. When she'd returned, he'd still been sitting in the same place, too afraid to stand and run into anything, further humiliating himself in front of his family. The General and Yanni had attended to a physician that morning, and the diagnosis was clear. Tython was going blind, but they had to run a number of other tests to figure out exactly what was stealing his vision.



The greatest worry was cancer, and Tython had quickly shut out that word entirely, letting Yanni speak to the doctor so he didn't have to. Even now, they still hadn't figured out what had stolen his sight, but Tython almost felt himself better off not knowing.



Months later, his mornings had turned into this same such event. Wake, panic, calm, and then sit up. He'd learned where things were placed in the family home by now. He knew where to step so he didn't trip. He knew where the bathroom was, where there was a light switch, despite him not needing the light to see. Yanni did her best to ensure that everything was clean and tidy for him, and he appreciated her deep dedication and continued love for a man that was now struggling to take care of himself after being so completely independent for so long.



Pushing himself up to his feet, Tython trailed around the side of the bed, measuring his steps so that he didn't run into the leg of their bed frame. He's smashed his foot on it one too many times. Yanni shifted slightly in bed, but didn't get up. He was aware that his wife often watched him, just in case he needed the help. It was hard to admit to anyone that he did, but he did with her. She was his rock, and she hadn't left when his sight had finally gone for good. She was quiet, patient, and she didn't patronize him or his lack of ability to be fully capable on his own.



If there was one thing he was grateful for, it was her. The kids tiptoed. His sister was bold, but he'd never hidden from Tythra in his life, and he wouldn't start now. It felt as if everyone was just waiting for the explosion. Waiting for the General to lose his temper just horridly so that they would all have an excuse to try and help him. It almost made him feel sick to his stomach.



He made it to the bathroom, using the toilet and then shifting himself almost awkwardly into the shower. Yanni was up now. He could hear her. She was standing in the doorway, likely with her arms crossed against her chest as she observed him for a moment. Then she disappeared as quickly as she had come, leaving him to the haunted peace of darkness and only the sound of the shower water to bring him any sort of calm.



After dressing and making his way into the kitchen for breakfast, he sat there, listening to the news on the television instead of reading it. Breakfast appeared in front of him and a kiss was pressed to his cheek. Yanni mentioned something about the care nurse coming to check on him later in the day, and he nodded quietly. "Thank you," Tython murmured, touching her hand for a moment before Yanni pulled away and got ready to leave.



Once all was quiet and there was only the sound of the television to keep him from losing his shit, the man finally sighed out deeply through his nose. "I just wish that I could see again..." he breathed to himself. He just wanted to see his family. His friends. His coworkers. His home. Just... he missed the vibrancy of color over the darkness of utterly nothing. Was it so much to ask, to beg? To be able to see? To be complete?