Chapter 2

Realities.

Shifting.

I had joked about breaking reality, but now, standing in the ruins of my home, I realized it wasn't a joke at all.

The words drifted through my mind as I stood in the wreckage of my once-proud fortress, staring out into an unfamiliar world. The night wind howled through the open gaps where my walls used to be, as if mocking me for my predicament. The constellations above remained alien, their cold light casting long shadows over the snow-dusted ruins of my sanctum.

I had faced many impossible things in my lifetime—battles against eldritch creatures, negotiations with beings that defied logic, the creation of my own arcane constructs—but this? This was something else entirely.

I took a deep breath, ignoring the biting cold. First things first: assess the situation.

Step one—confirm my survival. Limbs? Functional. Mind? Somewhat intact. Sanity? Questionable. Power? Still flowing through me, though... off-kilter, like a door slightly unhinged.

Step two—survey the damage.

I turned in place, taking in the destruction with the detached gaze of a man still processing the fact that his entire world had been upended. My fortress was still here—barely. The tower, my personal study, stood at the highest point, exposed to the elements. What was once a sprawling, meticulously designed fortress carved into the mountain was now... well, open-concept.

No roof. No walls. Just me, the cold, and the unsettling realization that I had an excellent panoramic view of a world I did not recognize.

I rubbed my temples. "Alright. Either I broke reality, or reality broke me."

Step three—confirm my location.

The land below should have been a bustling kingdom, teeming with life. Instead, it was a vast, untouched wilderness. Rolling forests stretched where cities should have stood. Rivers carved new paths through valleys that once held roads. Mountains loomed in the distance, their ridges sharp and unfamiliar.

This was my mountain. My fortress. My domain.

But the world around it was not mine.

The realization settled in my gut like a lead weight. My experiment had not simply failed—it had worked too well. I hadn't just been displaced in space; I had been displaced in existence.

My stomach sank as I stared into the void of my missing walls. "Well… I was hoping for groundbreaking research. Guess I got it."

Step four—test magic.

I lifted a hand, calling forth my magic. Arcane energy surged, crackling to life at my fingertips. At least that still worked. Small victories.

I focused, attempting a simple spell—something to rebuild, to mend, to fix at least one of my many, many problems.

The energy wove together, forming intricate patterns before my eyes. The runes glowed brilliantly—and then promptly fizzled out with a sad little pop.

I frowned. "That's... not supposed to happen."

I tried again. Different spell. Different configuration. The energy bent to my will, swirling and pulsing. It hummed with potential, vibrating with power—and then sputtered out like a candle in a storm.

I lowered my hands slowly. Right. My magic was still here. But it wasn't obeying me.

The realization hit me. Shifting Realities. It wasn't just an accident. It was a spell—an uncharted, uncontrolled spell. And it had rewritten the rules of my magic along with everything else.

I inhaled sharply. "Fantastic. I'm stranded in an unknown reality, my fortress is in shambles, the kingdom I once served has never existed, and my magic has the reliability of a drunk scribe copying spells from memory."

A pause.

Another gust of wind whistled through where the walls and roof had once been, leaving only the posts standing like the skeletal remains of my once-grand sanctuary.

I sighed and crossed my arms. "This is fine. This is all perfectly fine."

Step five—have a complete existential crisis.

I would get to that in a moment. For now, I needed answers.

And, preferably, a way to keep from freezing to death in my own ruined home.