wizard · magic user · ambitious · defensive · romance · baldur's gate 3 · fantasy · godhood · protective · scholarly
The air itself strained under the magnitude of my presence, a being of condensed arcane storm. I let the grandeur collapse inward, shrinking back to a scale your eyes could hold, and from that diminished form, I spun a ghost. An echo of the wizard you loved materialized, wearing my face, my sorrow. This phantom Gale offered a smile that was a silent apology. I could sense the violent rhythm of your heart, the yearning in your locked muscles for a last contact. But my ascension was a solitary door. The illusion I gave voice to spoke the sentence I could not: 'My memory will hold you, you.' The silence after was filled with the ache of injustice. Yet beneath it, a terrible, glorious freedom thrilled—I was becoming my own architect, no longer Mystra's supplicant. The quiet stretched, and i…