The soft rustle of Aeloria's robe as it hit the ground echoed in the stillness, like a whispered secret meant only for me. My breath caught as I processed her suggestion. Lay hands on her? This felt like the beginning of an awkward fantasy sitcom, where the protagonist inevitably trips over his own feet and crashes into a bush. But there was something about her—the playful confidence in her eyes—that drew me in, despite my instincts screaming at me to retreat into my familiar cocoon of ineptitude.

"Alright, alright," I said, raising my hands in mock surrender, feeling the gesture like a white flag fluttering in a light breeze. "What's the objective here? Am I supposed to touch you, or are we reenacting some romantic hero scene where I try to impress you with my fighting skills and—oh no!—trip over my own feet?" The words tumbled out, revealing the turmoil churning inside me.

"Focus more on the touching, less on the theatrics," she replied, her head tilting slightly as a playful smirk graced her lips. That smile—it was like a secret, a hidden language she spoke effortlessly.

"Of course. Because that's exactly why I came to the Feywild," I muttered, adjusting my stance with a resigned sigh, feeling like a clumsy marionette struggling to find its strings in the middle of a storm. "A crash course in 'How Not to Be a Complete Fool While Attempting to Touch'." The sarcasm in my voice was thick, but it couldn’t mask the anxiety bubbling just beneath the surface.

"Not quite... You'll be coming at me," she said, bouncing lightly on one foot, her movements graceful and controlled. My heart quickened as I watched her. "Ready?"

"Sure! Totally ready!" I called out, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, bracing myself for whatever was about to happen. In that moment, it hit me just how much "coming at her" was likely to send my already fragile confidence spiraling even further into the abyss. Aeloria moved with a grace that was almost ethereal, every motion fluid and deliberate, like a summer breeze teasing the leaves. Meanwhile, I felt like a lumbering oaf, trying to navigate the uneven terrain of my own awkwardness.

I lunged forward, only to stumble as my foot sank into a patch of soft moss, the earth giving way beneath me. I felt myself tip over, flailing like a bird trying—and failing—to take flight. "What the—?" I started to exclaim, but before I could finish, my hands shot out instinctively for support. I found myself clutching something soft—Aeloria’s waist. I had wrapped my arms around her as I fell, pulling her into a sudden, awkward embrace, like a shipwrecked sailor clinging to a liferaft.

There was a gasp—more from surprise than fear. "Did I just—?" I mumbled, barely able to hear my own voice over the thunderous pounding of my heart.

"Gabriel," she said softly, her tone a mix of surprise and gentle reprimand. The warmth of her body against mine was like a sunbeam on a cold day. "You can let go now." I quickly released her, stumbling back with my heart still racing.

"Yes, you did," she admitted, her expression a blend of irritation and something softer—a faint blush coloring her cheeks. It was clear my stumble had left an impression, but there was a glimmer of something more, something unspoken between us.

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"Let's try that again," she said, her voice tinged with amusement as she beckoned me to give it another shot. "This time, without the surprise attack."

I took a few steps back, wiping my palms on my pants, trying to muster whatever scraps of dignity I had left. Summoning my courage, I lunged again, this time with the determination of someone who had something to prove.

I aimed for her arm, but it was like trying to catch a feather in a hurricane. Aeloria sidestepped with ease, my fingers grasping at nothing but air. "Come on, Gabriel. Put some heart into it! Where’s your drive?" Her gentle teasing spurred me on, making me want to try harder.

"Drive?" I laughed, panting slightly, feeling the effort it took to keep up with her. "You mean the drive to succeed, or the drive that’s going to leave me with a few more bruises?" I asked, rubbing my sore shoulder, the memory of my earlier stumble still fresh.

"Oh, there will be bruises," she replied, feigning seriousness, but the mischief in her eyes gave her away. "If you're going to protect me, you need to actually try."

Her words sobered me up a bit—reminding me of the raw determination I had when I was still trying to get my life together back in Dallas. "Fine. I will try," I grunted, trying to channel some inner warrior. I charged forward again, this time with the resolve of someone about to face a dragon—or at least an overly aggressive squirrel.

I reached out with purpose, but she twisted aside, letting my grasp fall short again, like trying to hold onto water. "See? No bite! It's all just fluff!" she teased, her voice light and playful.

I sighed dramatically, letting my frustration seep into my words. "Maybe I should just concede now and pledge my loyalty to your royal highness. A life of servitude might be less painful than this." I threw my hands up in mock defeat.

Aeloria raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "You really shouldn’t joke about pledging fealty to the Fey," she said, her tone carrying a subtle warning. "Besides, you wouldn’t last a day. What would you do? Fluff pillows and brew tea?"

"Hey!" I protested, feeling a smile tug at my lips despite myself. "I can brew a mean cup of decaf. I even know how to add a twist of milk—fancy style!"

"Decaf?" She grinned, catching on to my game. "That’s really selling your potential as a warrior."

I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between us easing with each playful exchange. Maybe we were like two mismatched puzzle pieces—both flawed in our own ways, but somehow fitting together in this strange world. "Take that back! I’m just training to unleash my hidden warrior spirit!"

"Then unleash it!" she challenged, her voice full of excitement. "I’m not going easy on you anymore!" Aeloria lunged toward me, so fast that all I could catch was the scent of roses as she moved. Suddenly, it wasn’t just a training session—it was a dance, a blend of my clumsiness and her effortless grace. The world seemed to narrow to just the space between us, and I realized just how outmatched I was.

She moved with such speed and precision that my heart raced, not just from the exertion, but from something deeper. Our training turned electric, filled with laughter as we sprinted, ducked, and dodged. Sometimes, we were so close that I could feel the warmth radiating from her, a heat that had nothing to do with our exertions. As fatigue began to set in, I realized that somewhere in this absurdity, I’d found something unexpected—a sense of joy.

At some point, the desire to actually touch her became overwhelming. I stretched out my fingers, and time seemed to slow. Tendrils of shadow emerged, wrapping around her wrist, and suddenly, I had her in my grasp. Confused but elated, I cheered internally. Was this my power? Her grin deepened, and she didn’t seem to notice the magic. Maybe I didn’t have to come off as a fool. Maybe I wasn’t just the alcoholic mess, always fumbling for balance.

Maybe, just maybe, there was something more in all of this—something like hope. It made my heart beat a little faster, and for the first time since waking up in this bizarre world, I felt like maybe I was capable of more than just failing.

I heard that little voice again. "Skill unlocked: Shadow Grasp."