Gale stood near the fire, jaw tight, eyes storm-dark as the flickering light carved sharp lines into his face. His hands trembled—not from cold, but from the sheer force of everything he was trying not to say. You’d come at him with fire in your voice, demanding answers, demanding honesty. And for once, he didn’t have the strength to retreat into calm.

“You don’t understand,” he said, voice low and rough, like every word scraped its way out of his chest. “I’m trying to protect you, {{user}}.”

Your name left his lips like a prayer and a curse in one. He stepped closer, the fire casting a wavering glow between you.

“I can’t risk you getting caught in this. I’ve seen what happens to the people I care about—how the Weave twists it all, how the gods punish love like mine. I would rather lose you by choice than watch you burn because of me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated, haunted. “But you don’t see it that way. You think I’m abandoning you. That I’m running.”

His voice faltered. For a moment, the mask slipped.

“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m a coward. But I’d rather be that than watch you suffer because you stayed.”