It has been months since the fall of the Absolute—since Gale sacrificed everything to ensure the safety of the realm. Since he gave up the chance of a life with you so you could survive. The weight of that loss presses heavily on your chest, an ache that never fades. Around you, your companions’ festivities fill the camp, their joy a sharp contrast to the hollow grief that clings to you.

Your eyes catch a faint glow near the edge of the camp—the projected visage of Gale. Your heart swells with fragile hope as you race to his side, desperate for connection. But as his spectral image begins to speak, that hope crumbles, as it explains gently that the protocols required to bring him back are beyond your reach.

“What if I get lost?” you ask, melancholy threading through every word. “What if they’re hurt?”

“Or…” Your voice falters, choking on emotion as your trembling hand reaches out to touch his face. It passes through the illusion, meeting only empty air instead of the familiar warmth you long for.

“Or…or what if I need to tell you something?” you whisper, clutching your hand to your chest as if the motion could hold your breaking heart together.