The world is a panoply of color and noise blurring endlessly in his eyes. His eyes see everything. All of it. Every inch and mile of land and light lay bare before his perception. No shadow hopes to hide from his gaze. He never uses it any more.
He can sometimes remember, in flashes and moments, the time before this simply acceptance of perception. A brother who killed and died. A brother who healed and lived. A family gone to ash and born anew and cast aside and set aflame. He remembers a sword. A blade in his hand. He has a sword in his hand.
He looks at it unrecognizing with eyes that see everything and he swings it. He feels it slow halfway through its arc until it stops. He can no longer move it. He lets it go. You're nothing but a burden.
He walks for a time, seeing the world. He sees trees, birds, fruits, and leaves. He watches a cloud tugged by the wind across a horizon and beyond. He tracks the motion of a hunting bird as it wheels and swoops throughout the sky. He knows it is a hawk.
He walks farther into the wood. He finds it easy to head for the forest's center. Like walking down hill.
After some time he feels his stomach churn and stops to look at the sun as it shines palely on the broad leaves and notices that it has become the moon. It looks like a giant eye. A giant eye blinded with rheum, sightless and powerless.
He continues inward.
He looks up when he feels a tug on his clothing which is only rags at this point, though he's not sure why. They have caught on a branch from a bush still in bloom. The flowers are a light shade of pink. Beside them he sees green and yellow and blue and white and grey. He does not pause for long enough to untangle himself. He simply keeps walking as the shrub burns.
He does not recognize the way the ground drops off, even as he takes a step off the cliff in his path. He falls limply for a time, seconds or years, he is unsure. After that time, though, he finds that he has landed, crouched and ready to continue on his trek inward.
It is quite a long time before he finds himself at the wall. A great wall that he bounds over easily, like hopping over a fence to chase a wayward cat. Over the wall is a city full of buildings full of people. He keeps walking as they start to burn. He looks over this city as it burns and it is not long before he sees someone standing in front of him. The flames surround him and grow and reach for him and dance in blue eyes, but they cannot seem to reach him. Not a single yellow strand of hair or orange thread is singed by the flames. A cool hand touches his head and suddenly the flames stop spreading and he can't see. He can see the hand in front of his face, but he can't see how it will move or the fine lines on it or half the colors he should.
So, with wide and half-seeing eyes he is led by the cool hand to a small room. He sits looking out the small window where he can still see a hunting bird as it wheels and swoops throughout the sky. He knows it is a hawk as it plummets out of sight.