Blind to the World: The Emotional Cost of Seer Power

In Blurred Lines, Seer power isn’t chosen. It’s inherited—and it always comes at a cost.

All Seers are women, and the ability passes down through bloodlines. But only one woman in a bloodline can carry the power at a time. For a new Seer to awaken, someone else must die. It’s not a gift freely given—it’s a legacy triggered by loss.

And when the power arrives, it takes their sight. Physical vision vanishes. What remains is magical sight: the ability to see truth, memory, and emotion. But not colour. Not faces. Not light. The world becomes forensic—stripped of warmth, reduced to evidence.

Yet Seers aren’t held back by their blindness. They lead investigations, shape policy, and command respect at the highest levels of government. Their authority is absolute. Their word is law. But that doesn’t mean they’re free. Every Seer relies on someone—an assistant, a guide, a voice—to describe what they can no longer see. To navigate rooms, read expressions, interpret silence. It’s a quiet dependency, rarely acknowledged, but always present.

And that reliance comes with its own form of control. Assistants don’t just support—they filter. They decide what’s described, what’s omitted, what’s softened or sharpened. Seers may hold power, but they’re also at the mercy of those who shape their world. It’s not overt manipulation. But it’s influence. And it matters.

No one talks about what it means to inherit power through death. Or what it feels like to lose your sight and be told it’s a privilege. The Coalition of Seers demands certainty. Reverence. Obedience. But behind the formality is a quiet grief—and a lifetime of adjustment. That grief doesn’t make them weaker. But it does make them human. And in a system built on infallibility, humanity is the one thing they’re never allowed to show.

Sophie Galloway, a senior crime scene investigator and Seer, is one of the first characters readers meet in Blindsided. She’s calm, precise, and deeply respected. She commands every room she enters. Her power is unquestioned. But she’s also guarded. Sophie has secrets—layers of truth she’s not ready to share. And Logan Fraser, newly arrived and already out of his depth, is going to have to fight for every one of them.

Writing Sophie let me explore what it means to be powerful in a system that reveres you—but still places you at the mercy of others. She’s not invisible. She’s in charge. But she’s also navigating a world that no longer belongs to her senses. And the legacy she carries—passed down through death—leaves little room for vulnerability.

It was one of the most emotionally layered parts of Blindsided—and one I didn’t expect to resonate so deeply.