[A faint smile. He speaks politics; he can catch the unspoken question.]

Mine is a Sight which sees not only aether - the energy that those of your world call more simply 'magic' - but the soul. Such a crowded space is brilliant indeed.

[Blinding indeed. In response to the proper question, a sigh.]

He sleeps, but even had He been destroyed, His colors would remain on the souls He touched. Such is the nature of primals - and the problem of them, in modern eyes.