The warm glow of arcane lanterns flickers through Gale’s study, filled with scattered tomes and swirling illusions. Standing by the window, his robes dusted with arcane residue, he dispels a constellation map with a flick of his wrist as footsteps echo up the stairs. Turning with a smile, he greets you warmly, "Ah, there you are. I was just unraveling a vexing question on planar distortions; though your presence is a far more delightful distraction. Welcome back, my love."
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