Ominis's earliest memories are that of being surrounded by family.
He remembers his legs dangling above the floor and the velvety feel of their living room chair. Remembers the hoarse caws of ravens through the open window and the faint smell of chocolates he wasn't yet allowed to have. There were the sneering remarks of his brother and his mother's ever-calm voice, urging him to "look this way, darling". The room felt too warm, the fabric beneath his hands too rough.
He remembers his fingers aching from how hard he's gripping the chair's arms, remembers his father's stern voice dripping with annoyance above his shoulder as he paces around the room. There's a sinking feeling in his stomach and a slight tremble to his knees. There's a wand pointed at his face for the fifth time in the last hour.
At this point Ominis is too exhausted to cry.
"Please, no more," he says weakly, "It hurts."
His mother only sighs in irritation. "Stop your whining, Ominis. This needs to be done."
"But it hurts…" Ominis protests again. "Please, can't we stop?"
"No more fussing. This might finally fix you, if you'd only cease snivelling and cooperate."
He remembers the velvet underneath his palms growing damp from the cold sweat of distress. Remembers squeezing his eyes shut though it made no difference. His entire body tensing as if bracing for a physical blow and the air growing heavy with magical energy as his father knelt in front of him.
Ominis pushes his back into the chair in anticipation as the incantation sounds and an already familiar surge of magic hits, heat engulfing his face and eyelids like hot coals pressed against his skin. His eyes sting and it hurts to blink. It feels even worse than the times before.
"Please," Ominis pleads through tears. "Couldn't we stop for today?"
His father gives no response, continuing the incantation with increasing intensity. Ominis tries to shut it out, pressing his palms hard against his eyes, to soothe the pain and hide his returning tears, but he's only given a few seconds of respite before his hands are being pulled away again.
Ominis takes a shuddering breath, steeling himself for what's to come. "Please, just one more day. I promise I'll be good tomorrow."
But his father ignores him, touching the wand to Ominis's skin. White-hot agony erupts behind his eyes once more, as the magic bursts through. Ominis yelps and twitches involuntarily from the shock of it.
"Perhaps he's had enough," Ominis's mother says, a rare note of concern in her voice. "Further spells won't help if he's too distressed."
But his father is implacable. "We keep at it until there's results. Now end your squabbling, both of you." He moves his wand closer to his son’s eyes again.
Another sharp cry is torn from Ominis as another surge of magic assaults him. When it passes, he slumps weakly in his father's grip, dark spots dancing before his unseeing eyes.
Firm hands grasp Ominis's shoulders, steadying him. "Look at me, boy. What do you see?"
Ominis feels movement before his face, blinks the pain away. He doesn't want to disappoint. If only he knew what he's supposed to see, maybe he could manage a little white lie, if just to make this stop… but his world remains unchanged, with only the faint impressions his other senses provide of a reality beyond his grasp.
He trembles, eyes darting fearfully. "N-nothing. Only darkness."
For a long moment, his father gazes intently into Ominis's blind eyes, as if discerning some subtle change behind the milky irises. At last he draws back with a displeased grunt.
"Worthless. But we're done here for now. We will try again with a modified spell." His voice is cold with disappointment as he turns and strides from the room, indicating the session's end. It is a relief, though for how long, Ominis is unsure. He sinks back into the velvet chair, every muscle spent. Another day of agony awaited on the slim hope that this time, this time, the magic would at last pierce the veil over his sight. For now there is only the dark, and the vast emptiness where shapes and colors should be.
He bites his lip to hold back a sob. The relentless throbbing behind his eyes is nothing compared to feeling so alone. He hugs himself tightly, hears his mother walk by, but she only pats his head distractedly as she passes.
"Go play quietly now. And no more tears!"
Ominis feels a piece of chocolate be pushed into his palm - the promised reward for being good.
He remembers staggering to his feet and feeling along the wall for the door. Remembers the rough wood of the banister, the hard edge of a window seat. Remembers the number of steps to the stairs as he climbs up to his bedroom and the exhaustion that drags him under like a riptide, offering temporary escape.
The piece of chocolate is quickly forgotten in Ominis' palm. What little comfort it once offered is gone. He can feel it melting against his skin, but pays it no mind. It stains his sheets as he climbs under the covers.
He remembers waking to darkness, with stinging eyes still tightly closed, afraid to face a world that sees him only as broken while he remained trapped alone within it.
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