Chapter 4

Experiment. Dimensions.

I took a long sip from the bottle in my hand, the burn of aged rum doing little to dull the headache forming at my temples. The climb back up to the fifth floor was proving to be more exhausting than expected, my mind clouded with fragmented memories and the weight of realization. I leaned against the cool stone of the stairwell, letting my gaze trail over the dimly glowing runes lining the walls. The fortress was still holding together—for now.

The memories had been coming in flashes, fractured and disjointed. But now, standing here with a drink in hand, a realization hit me. The experiment. It wasn't just about shifting realities. That had been the unintended consequence. The original goal was something else entirely.

A navigation spell.

I had theorized that dimensions could be observed, mapped, and even traveled with the right magical framework. Not just a passive viewing spell, but something precise—an advanced system of control, a way to navigate alternate realities at will. The Nexus—that was the key. A bridge, a stabilizing force. And to prove the theory, I needed a direct, undisturbed connection to it. That was why I placed the magic circle on the seventh floor.

Mistake One.

I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. The Astral Nexus, housed just below my study, was the one place in my fortress where reality was at its weakest, where the walls between worlds were thin. It made sense to use it as a conduit, a way to tap into the unseen. The calculations were sound. The theory was solid.

But execution? That had been an entirely different matter.

I arrived at the fifth-floor library and archive, the double doors still open from when I passed on my way down. Stepping inside, I made my way to the long table at the center of the room, surrounded by towering bookshelves and rows of aged scrolls. The arcane lights overhead flickered slightly, casting shifting shadows over the worn wooden surface. I set the bottle down with a quiet thud, rubbing my forehead.

The books and scrolls, ever so still in their places, felt different—restless. Which was absurd. Books and scrolls didn't do that. And yet, I swore I could feel them watching. Whispering? No, that would be insane. But something in the air itched, like an expectation I wasn't in on.

I exhaled sharply, throwing my hands up. "Oh, shut up! And let me think in peace!"

The silence that followed felt smug. And that was even worse.

I dropped into the chair and shot a glare at the shelves. "You're books. Behave like it."

The fortress, at least, had the decency not to respond.

I took another drink, letting the warmth dull the chill crawling up my spine. I could still remember the power—raw, uncontrolled. A surge beyond my calculations. The magic spiraled beyond my grasp, warping, expanding, shifting.

I clenched my fist, gripping the memory tightly, forcing it to take shape. My body—torn apart, remade, scattered across existence. An explosion. Darkness. Cold. For so long.

Then I woke up.

The kingdom was gone. The world had changed. And my fortress, once anchored in a familiar land, now stood alone in an alien wilderness. How? Realization hit me like a hammer. The Core and the Nexus. When the experiment went awry, it must have created a connection between the two artifacts—mithril and crystal, bound by the chaotic energy of the abyss. And then something, or someone, yanked. It didn't just take me. It took the entire fortress.

Mistake Two.

I let out a humorless chuckle and grabbed the bottle again. "Well, at least I know what happened now. Not that it helps."

I figured out the how. Now what? Then I noticed myself—my robes torn, dirt and grime clinging to the fabric. I frowned. Need cleaning. By instinct, I cast a cleansing spell. The grime, the dampness of the snow from the outside—gone.

I looked down at my now-pristine-but-torn-and-tattered robes, then back at the bottle. "Well, that worked. Wonder what else still does."

The books rustled. I pointed at them. "Don't start."

They didn't. Small victories.