Edward was trying, willing himself not to sound entirely disbelieving, trying to reign in the panic that surged at the edges, even as he said. His grip on Carlisle's chin softening as he did though.

"They're clouded. In anyone else," anyone not them, anyone who could age and die and have ailments of any kind, "likely cataracts." At least. "There's nothing else wrong?"

Nothing he'd missed?