From the pocket of the greatcoat, she took a large eyepatch of black leather and slipped it over her head, adjusting it so it covered the Sliver of the Eye of the Dead God that was still embedded in her right eye socket. Since the fall of the Outsider, the Sliver hadn’t fallen silent, exactly, but the powers it once granted had faded, the magic sleeping, slow to stir when she
called upon it, so she didn’t. Having the arcane object in her skull didn’t impede her at all—she could still see perfectly well with it—and, even without the eyepatch, it didn’t attract the same kind of attention it used to, not since a small proportion of the population had started to modify their own bodies, desperate to find a way to stop the dreams.

- Dishonored: The Veiled Terror Chapter 2