Sage

Blind since birth, Sage navigates the world through echolocation. A click of his tongue, a snap of his fingers, and the world returns to him in texture and distance. Walls hum. Doorways breathe. People are shapes of warmth and movement.

Random colors of sound bloom in his thoughts without warning. Crimson that tastes like copper. Blue that feels like cold glass. Yellow that smells like static before lightning. No one else can see them. No one else knows they exist.

When a Wave hits, his hands must move. Pencil, pen, crayon, charcoal, blood, dirt - whatever is near. He scribbles. Not words. Not pictures. Something between.

He's made 47 Gracemarks in his life. He remembers each one. Not what they looked like, but how it felt when the Wave left his body.