The W.I.T.C.H. cartoons never got far into the story line, but if it continued, I assume Taranee's eyesight would soon become a topic. It becomes the trigger for the third ark in the series when she discovers that her magic has healed her eyes, and that their magic in overall, heal any kind of injuries inhumanly fast. A lot of things happen after that, but Taranee is unhappy with being healed without asking for it, and from then on, she wear fake glasses (a point that I don't think come up again later).

Disclaimer: I don't own W.I.T.C.H.

Taranee's glasses

Peter had never been one to snoop. He respected privacy, especially his little sister's. But when he was tidying up the living room and found a pair of Taranee's glasses sitting forgotten on the coffee table, curiosity got the better of him.

She didn't have many pairs and almost never left them lying around. He picked them up, turning them over in his hands. The frames were thin and unassuming, the lenses clean, that was to be expected. On impulse, he slid them onto his nose.

And saw everything just as clearly as before.

Peter frowned. He looked around the room, blinking, waiting for his vision to blur, for some kind of distortion. But nothing changed. He could see perfectly through them, no difference whatsoever.

He pulled them off and held them up to the light. "Fake lenses?" he blurted out in surprise. "No prescription at all, sis? This doesn't make sense, Taranee has worn glasses since we were kids."

Hadn't she?

The memory came sudden: Taranee, back when they lived in Sesamo, squinting at books, sitting close to the television, complaining that everything was blurry. Their mom had taken her to the eye doctor, and soon after, she was wearing glasses. She'd been so embarrassed about them at first, but eventually, they became a part of her.

But now Peter was left wondering and began to think about it. After they moved to Heatherfield, Taranee had stopped seeing the eye doctor about her eyesight. He couldn't recall she ever mentioned needing a stronger prescription, not even once. And now, standing in their living room, Peter realized something strange: he couldn't recall a single time she had ever struggled to see without her glasses since they'd moved.

What was going on?

When Taranee got home later that evening, Peter greeted her from the sofa where he'd been watching TV.

"Hey, Taranee," he called as she stepped inside. "Your glasses were on the table earlier. I tried them on."

She froze, one hand still gripping the strap of her bag. "…Okay?"

Peter chuckled, his sister got the look of a deer caught in the headlight. "There's no prescription in them." He held them up. "You don't need glasses. Do you?"

She hesitated, then sighed, walking past him into the kitchen. "No… I don't."

Peter followed her, when a sudden air of reluctance descended over her. "So… why do you wear them?"

Taranee opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, but she didn't take a sip. She just held it, staring at it as if trying to gather her thoughts. "I don't know. I just… do."

Peter crossed his arms. "Taranee, I remember how bad your eyesight was when we were little. You couldn't even read the clock from across the room. And then, what? It suddenly fixed itself?"

"Not suddenly," she murmured. "It got better after we moved here."

"After we moved," Peter repeated. "And you never told anyone?"

She shrugged. "I didn't see the point. It just happened."

"But you still wear them."

Taranee finally looked up at him, something uncertain in her expression. "Yeah."

"Why?"

She set the water bottle down and leaned against the counter. "It's… complicated."

"I've got time."

She sighed, taking off her glasses and staring at them in her hands. "Do you ever look in the mirror and feel like you don't recognize yourself?"

Peter thought about it and shrugged. "Not really."

"Well, I do. Every time I take these off." She turned the glasses over, brushing her fingers against the frame. "I've worn them since I was a kid. When I look at myself without them, I feel like I'm looking at a stranger. It doesn't feel right."

Peter furrowed his brow. "But it's still you."

"I know," she said quickly. "Logically, I know that. But… I don't feel like me without them. It's like… they're part of who I am."

Peter was quiet for a moment, then said, "You mean part of how you see yourself."

Taranee nodded.

He frowned. "But that's just an image. Who you are isn't your glasses, or your hair, or the clothes you wear. That's all surface-level."

"I know," she said again, softer this time.

Peter leaned against the counter beside her. "If someone changed their name, would they stop being the same person?"

"No."

"And if they dyed their hair?"

"Of course not."

"So why would taking off your glasses make you any less you?"

Taranee exhaled. "It's not that simple."

Peter gave her a sideways look. "Isn't it?"

Taranee shook her head. "Identity isn't just about personality. It's about how we see ourselves. How we choose to present ourselves to the world. Our habits, our routines… they shape us. If you do something long enough, it becomes part of who you are."

Peter considered this. "Okay, but it's still not the thing itself that makes you who you are. It's the choices you make. If you decided tomorrow that you were done with glasses, you'd still be Taranee."

She hesitated. "I know that."

Peter pressed on. "I mean, think about it. If your habits make you who you are, then doesn't that mean you could become someone completely different just by changing them?"

Taranee tapped her fingers on the counter. "In a way, yeah. If someone changed everything about themselves, their habits, their beliefs, their way of thinking, would they still be the same person?"

"I'm less sure about that. People may still be the same even if they change their habits, if their beliefs and way of thinking change, it might become a different case. But it will be a gradual transition." Peter said. "At the core, they'd still have the same memories, the same experiences that shaped them. That stuff doesn't go away. I think that if you keep your memories, and the feelings you have connected to them, that's what's makes you, you."

Taranee tilted her head. "So, you think our feelings and memories define us?"

"More than appearances, yeah."

"What about secrets?"

Peter raised an eyebrow. "What about them?"

Taranee smiled faintly. "A person's secrets say a lot about who they are. Sometimes even more than what they show the world."

Peter smirked. "Are you hiding a secret from me?"

She laughed. "Maybe."

Peter chuckled. "You're overthinking this."

"I'm a thinker. It's what I do."

"Well, think about this: even if you woke up tomorrow with blue hair and a new name, you'd still be my little sister."

Taranee smiled. "I would be damned if I didn't."

"Absolutely."

She was quiet for a moment. Then, in a thoughtful voice, she asked, "What if I had wings?"

Peter blinked. "Wings?"

Taranee shrugged. "Just a hypothetical."

Peter gave her an amused look. "Even if you had wings, you'd still be you."

She smiled warmly. "Thanks, Peter."

He narrowed his eyes playfully. "Why do I feel like that question meant more than you're letting on?"

She simply picked up her glasses and slid them back on. "That's my secret."

Peter shook his head, but he smiled. "You're a mystery, you know that?"

Taranee just laughed.