I sat on the edge of the fur-covered bed that had been assigned to me, feeling oddly disoriented in the small, softly illuminated room. The bed, though luxuriously soft, seemed a bit too small, as if meant for someone smaller or intended to keep me uncomfortably aware of my surroundings. The room itself was quaint and simple, its only adornments the thick, plush furs and a large, arched window that opened onto a breathtakingly beautiful view. Beyond the window, the forest stretched out in every direction, an endless sea of towering trees with canopies so dense they seemed to touch the sky. It was a place both wondrous and intimidating, an endless expanse of green shrouded in an eternal twilight glow.
My thoughts kept drifting back to the magical card that had appeared before me. The card had floated into view with an ethereal grace, catching the light in such a way that it shimmered and pulsed with an otherworldly energy. As I reached out cautiously, my fingers trembling with a mix of apprehension and curiosity, a jolt surged through me. It felt as though my entire body had been plugged into a high-voltage source, and my vision swirled with a dizzying array of vibrant colors and shifting text. The words flickered and danced like fireflies caught in a midsummer night’s breeze, making me feel as though I had plunged into the heart of a fantastical, interactive nightmare—one of the worst game shows imaginable.
“Welcome to your status page, Shadebound,” a cheerful voice chimed, its source elusive. I spun around, half-expecting to see a tiny fairy in a sequined jacket, arms outstretched in a grandiose gesture of explanation. Instead, I found myself alone, surrounded by the ancient, whispering trees that seemed to hold secrets of forgotten warriors and lost kingdoms.
“Ugh, fine. Show me what you’ve got,” I muttered to myself, squinting at the information flashing before my eyes like a neon sign in a foggy alley.
Name: Gabriel Cross
Class: Shadebound
Level: 1
Health: 50/100
Ability: Shadow Meld – Manipulates shadows for stealth. Rank F: Only usable in the dark, lasts for 30 seconds. Ideal for sneaking around—though, let’s be honest, I couldn’t sneak past a toddler.
Shadow Arms – Creates weapons from pure shadow. Rank F: Old Sword. Here’s hoping it gets an upgrade before I’m up against anything more dangerous than a butter knife.
Skills: Alcohol Resistance - great, like that’s going to help me here.
Spells: Illusion – Conjures visual objects and sound to confuse or distract. Rank F: Minor Illusion. The illusion can be no larger than 5 feet and disappears if touched or seen through. Lasts 1 minute. Great for pulling off a disappearing act during awkward family dinners or dodging responsibility.
“Really? Alcohol Resistance?” I couldn’t help but scoff, my voice laced with disbelief and the sharp sting of shame. “What on earth does ‘Alcohol Resistance’ even mean in a situation where I’ve ended up in a fairy realm because I royally messed up? Is this some kind of cruel joke?”
Aeloria’s voice sliced through my self-pity with an almost tangible sharpness, and I glanced up to find her standing in the doorway. Her arms were crossed, her previously flushed cheeks now set in a smirk that was intended to be charming but instead carried a dangerous edge of mockery.
“Is this amusing to you?” she said, her tone biting and sharp. “Do you think this is some sort of game? Life in the Feywild isn’t a walk in the park. You’re expected to sharpen those skills, learn to fight. You’re supposed to protect me now, remember!”
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“Right,” I retorted, my voice tinged with sarcasm as I struggled to grasp the absurdity of it all. “Because my track record for protecting anyone besides—well, myself—is absolutely stellar.” I let out a resigned huff, my mind racing with a flurry of thoughts. “I suppose I’m left with nothing but an old sword now. Let’s just hope that this so-called alcohol tolerance can somehow whisk me back home.”
Aeloria raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting from annoyance to a mix of disbelief and something else—was it concern? “Is that really how you want this to go? You think you can just waltz into danger without preparing yourself?”
“Listen,” I said, trying to mask my growing anxiety with a touch of sarcasm, “my training has mostly involved bar-hopping and dodging exes.” I paused, taking in the gravity of the situation. “This... this is an entirely different realm of absurdity.”
Her green eyes glinted with a mischievous light as she leaned in, her gaze intense and scrutinizing. “Well, look at that,” she said with a trace of a smirk, “you finally managed to say something that isn’t utterly ridiculous.” She paused, her voice growing serious. “And just so you’re aware, that crude mortal nectar won’t serve you here—not in the slightest.”
I felt the weight of her words sinking in like a stone settling in a still pond. The familiar nagging craving for alcohol lurked at the edges of my mind, a constant reminder of how easy it would be to slip back into the haze that made everything feel manageable—even if it was all just an illusion.
“But I’ve survived on alcohol!” I laughed, though the sound was brittle and lacked conviction.
“Yet here you are,” Aeloria countered, her tone turning serious. “You’re in the Feywild now, and I don’t think the bottle will save you from the dangers that await. You’ll need to learn control—not just for yourself, but for me.”
It felt like a punch to the gut. For so long, I had been adrift, controlling nothing, responsible only for myself—and even then, barely. Now, I was irrevocably bound to a fairy princess, someone with her own complex emotions and expectations about this absurd arrangement. The weight of it all settled heavily on my chest, making me feel more lost and exposed than ever before.
I peered back at the shimmering card, taking stock of my options with a mix of desperation and determination. “Alright," I took a deep breath, attempting to summon whatever courage I could muster. “Let’s say I want to give this a shot. What do I even do first? Aside from not embarrassing myself in front of your whole royal family?”
Aeloria’s expression softened just a touch, her lips curving into a smile that was almost sincere, though it still held a trace of her earlier mockery. “To begin with,” she said, her tone unexpectedly gentle, “you need to become acquainted with your abilities and spells. There’s training ahead, and if you’re going to protect me, it would be wise to learn how to fight.”
“Training, huh? What does that entail? Is there a gym around here, or are we just gonna go traipsing into danger?” I asked, already feeling the weight of her expectations pressing down on my shoulders.
“Gym? There’s a sparring circle in the court,” she said, tilting her head with a hint of mischief again. “And I’m afraid I’ll be your first opponent,” she added with a glint of challenge in her eyes. “Who better to train you than someone with centuries of experience in fighting?”
“Aeloria, you do realize I’m just a human, right?” I sighed, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “This feels like trying to teach a goldfish to climb trees.”
“Then find your metaphorical tree and start climbing,” she replied with a teasing smile, her eyes sparkling with a mix of challenge and encouragement. She pivoted gracefully on her heel, glancing back to make sure I was following. “It’s time to see if you can grow up and protect someone other than yourself. Besides, Human, your kind has been mastering the blade and bow for millennia.”
And just like that, my new, utterly ridiculous life in the Feywild began. As Aeloria led the way, the path ahead seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly glow, each step into the unknown echoing with the promise of trials and revelations. It was a journey that would test my resolve, challenge my perceptions, and perhaps, if I was fortunate, lead me to a newfound strength and purpose.