Her eyes upon your face

A faint hum of magic fills the air as you approached Gale’s tent. There he was, his eyes fixed on Mystra’s shimmering and ethereal visage. His gaze was soft, almost reverent, and something inside you twisted. Was it confusion? No, it was something sharper, something like jealousy. The thought startled you, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the way he looked at her, lost in a world that seemed to belong to them alone.

Her hand upon your hand

The camp was still as a storm raged within your core. Elminster had come, as a messenger of Mystra, bearing a command that shattered the fragile peace you had tried to maintain. Gale was to detonate the Netherese orb within his chest to destroy the Absolute. The audacity to request him to sacrifice himself sent a surge of anger through you, hot and consuming. Mystra still had a constrictive grasp around the wizard, one akin to a heavy, suffocating blanket. One you intended to lift.

Her lips upon your skin

You had always sensed it, the shadow of Mystra that lingered over Gale like a phantom. She had ensnared him as a youth, wrapping him in the web of her divine allure, her grip a chain that refused to break.

As you watched him prepare himself before her statue, to meet her alone, your heart pounded with a mix of fury and fear. The thought of him standing before her, vulnerable and unprotected, filled you with a fierce need to shield him, to tear him fully away from her grasp.

It’s more than I can stand