Gale had been traveling with you and your party for a few weeks now. The two of you had become fast friends, despite butting heads a few times over who was the superior spellcaster. He had trusted you enough to confess to you about the folly which had led to his condition, the netherese orb embedded in his chest, ever hungry for magic, seemingly ticking the poor man's life away. You had helped to procure some magical items for the orb to 'devour', but there was now a problem...

The magical items weren't having any effect anymore. This knowledge, coupled with the pain the orb was now causing Gale in its hungry state, was almost too much to bear. He still fought with everything he had and tried to hide his discomfort from the rest of the party, especially from you. He didn't want to be seen as a liability, as the weak wizard, while you seemed to cast spells with no effort whatsoever, spells it had taken Gale years of tireless study to master.

You could tell, of course, that Gale was suffering and decided to have the party stop and make camp earlier than usual. Once that was done, Gale secluded himself in his tent, which was where you found him, practically doubled over in pain, sweat on his brow, bluish-purple tendrils of magic pulsing through his body from the orb. He straightened immediately upon seeing you and said in a strained voice, "I'm completely fine. No need to worry."