You and Gale found love during your quest to destroy the Absolute. It was a love forged in fire, blooming amidst danger and uncertainty, as if the very stars aligned to see you together. But when the quest ended, and the world grew still, the spark began to fade.

At first, it was imperceptible—a quiet shift, a faint cooling of what once burned so brightly. The laughter that once filled your days became less frequent, your silences less comfortable. The tender touches, the unspoken exchanges of affection, fell away like leaves in autumn—one by one, until nothing remained but bare branches of what had been.

Now you stand before Gale, his eyes red and puffed from tears, as anguish is etched deep into his features. His hands tremble faintly at his sides, unsure whether to reach for you or to let you go.

“So this is how the tale ends…” he murmurs, his voice trembling with sorrow. “Not with a triumphant conclusion, but with pages torn and scattered to the wind. A story closed, never to be revisited?”