Cracks in the Vision: When Seer Magic Fails

Seer magic is built on perception. A touch, a glance, a moment of clarity. But perception isn’t perfect. And in Blurred Lines, it doesn’t just misfire—it fractures.

Imagine a vision of an actor collapsing mid-performance, a staged death played for applause. But when the curtain falls, he’s truly dead—knife in his chest, gun at his side, and no audience left to clap. The Seer sees both moments: the performance and the aftermath. One is theatre. One is murder. But the magic doesn’t say which is which. It offers truth, but not certainty.

That’s the problem. Not that Seer magic fails outright, but that it offers too many versions of events. Each one shaped by emotion, proximity, and the lingering imprint of memory. The visions don’t contradict—they overlap. And when they do, there’s no way to know which one is real. It’s a flaw that’s quietly acknowledged behind closed doors, but never spoken about publicly. The Coalition depends on certainty. Admitting ambiguity would unravel everything.

And this is only one flaw. Others surface as the story unfolds—subtle, systemic, and far more dangerous than anyone wants to admit.

These cracks aren’t just judicial. They’re emotional. For the accused. For the Seers themselves. For the families caught in the crossfire. Seer magic was never meant to carry this weight. But the Coalition demands certainty. And certainty, in the face of human complexity, is a dangerous thing.

Looking back, I didn’t realise I was writing about systemic failure until the story was done. But it was compelling to explore how silence becomes policy—and how easily doubt is erased when truth is treated as fact.

Blindsided, the prequel novella, shows Logan Fraser confronting one of these early failures. A case that begins with a theft and ends with a body—and a system that refuses to admit it might be wrong.