The void was cold—endlessly, unbearably cold. Zynth floated through the empty expanse, his body numb and weightless, his mind lost in the infinite darkness. The last thing he remembered was the rift collapsing, the force of the Blue Atomic Power tearing through him as he fought to close it. He had given everything, let the power consume him in a final desperate attempt to save *Chroma-Veila*.
But it hadn't been enough. The realm was gone. And now… so was he.
Zynth's chest tightened at the thought. His eyes fluttered open, the darkness around him shifting, bending. He could feel himself being pulled somewhere, drawn by a force he couldn't resist. He didn't know if it was the rift, or something else, but it didn't matter. He was too weak to fight it, too tired to resist.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence.
Then, with a sudden jolt, everything changed.
---
#### A New World
Zynth gasped as he hit the ground, the air rushing out of his lungs as he slammed into the earth. For a moment, he lay there, disoriented and dazed, his body aching from the impact. The scent of damp soil and grass filled his nose, and the sound of birds chirping nearby echoed in his ears.
*Where… am I?*
Zynth forced himself to sit up, his vision blurry as he blinked against the harsh light of the sun. The darkness of the void was gone, replaced by a bright, clear sky above him. He was lying in a field, surrounded by tall grass that swayed gently in the breeze. In the distance, he could see rolling hills and scattered trees, but none of it looked familiar.
This wasn't *Chroma-Veila*.
His heart raced as he scrambled to his feet, his legs unsteady beneath him. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the air felt different—lighter, less charged with magic. The familiar hum of energy that had always surrounded him was gone, leaving him feeling strangely disconnected from the world around him.
*I'm… not in the realm anymore.*
Zynth looked down at his hands, turning them over as if expecting to see something different. But he was still the same—still himself, still alive. Somehow, he had survived the collapse. But the realm he had fought so hard to protect was gone, and now… he was here.
Wherever "here" was.
---
#### A New Reality
As Zynth wandered through the unfamiliar landscape, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him. The air was too quiet, too still, and there was no trace of the magic that had once been his constant companion. He felt out of place, like he didn't belong in this world.
After what felt like hours of walking, Zynth spotted a small town in the distance, its buildings clustered together at the base of a hill. The sight of it sent a wave of relief through him—he wasn't alone. Maybe someone here could help him, explain where he was and what had happened.
As he approached the town, the sound of distant music reached his ears, faint but lively. The streets were quiet, but the warm glow of lights spilled out from the windows of a nearby building—a bar, judging by the row of dusty cars parked out front. Zynth hesitated for a moment, then pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The bar was dimly lit, with wooden floors that creaked underfoot and the smell of stale beer hanging in the air. The murmur of conversation filled the room, but as soon as Zynth entered, all eyes turned to him. The chatter died down, replaced by the curious stares of the patrons.
Zynth swallowed, suddenly feeling out of place in his tattered, foreign-looking clothes. He must have looked strange to them—like someone who had wandered in from another world. Which, in a way, he had.
"Well, don't you look funny," a gruff voice called from one of the booths near the back.
A few people chuckled, and Zynth felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He kept his head down as he walked toward the bar, trying to ignore the stares that followed him. He had no idea how he was going to explain where he had come from—he barely understood it himself.
As Zynth sat down on a stool at the bar, the bartender glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "You lost, kid?"
Zynth shook his head, unsure of what to say. "Just… passing through."
The bartender didn't press him for more details, instead sliding a glass of water across the bar. Zynth took it, grateful for the momentary reprieve, but before he could drink, a voice from across the room called out to him.
"Hey," the voice said, low and steady. "You ain't from around these parts, are you?"
Zynth turned, his gaze falling on a man seated at the far end of the bar. The man wore a weathered leather jacket and a cowboy hat that shaded his eyes, but there was something about him—something familiar. Zynth couldn't quite place it, but the way the man spoke, the way he carried himself, felt oddly… connected.
"Who are you?" Zynth asked, his voice quiet but curious.
The man leaned back in his chair, his hand resting casually on the brim of his hat. For a moment, he didn't say anything, just studied Zynth with an almost knowing look. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, the man removed his hat, revealing a head of graying hair and a weathered face that bore the marks of age and experience.
"My name's Joan," the man said, his voice carrying a weight that made Zynth sit up straighter. "But my friends call me John."
Zynth's breath caught in his throat. *Joan?* The name echoed in his mind, sparking a memory he had nearly forgotten. Joan, the son of Alex… from *Earl Moth*. But this man was older now, his face lined with years of hardship, his eyes filled with a world-weariness that Zynth hadn't expected.
"How… how did you get here?" Zynth asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Joan—no, *John*—smiled faintly, though there was little warmth in it. "Same way you did, I reckon. Been a long journey since *Earl Moth*. Lost a lot along the way."
Zynth felt a chill run down his spine. *Earl Moth*, the realm of legends, the place where it had all begun for Alex and his kin. And now, Joan—Alex's son—was here, in this strange world, just like Zynth.
"Why… why are you here?" Zynth asked, his voice filled with a mixture of confusion and awe.
John's smile faded, and he set his hat down on the bar, his gaze turning distant, as if looking back over the years of his life. "Same reason you are, I suppose. Survived a realm that couldn't hold together. Found myself in a world that ain't mine."
He paused, glancing over at Zynth with a knowing look. "But the real question, kid, is what're you gonna do now?"
Zynth stared at him, speechless. He had no answer to that question. His realm was gone, the people he had fought for scattered or lost. And now, he was here, in a world that made no sense to him, with no clear path forward.
Before he could say anything, John picked up his drink and raised it slightly in Zynth's direction. "Here's to the ones who ain't from around here," he said, his voice low and somber. "May we find a place to belong, even when the world's got other plans."
Zynth nodded slowly, lifting his own glass in silent acknowledgment. The weight of everything he had lost settled over him, but for the first time since stepping into the void, he didn't feel completely alone.
As he took a sip of the drink, his mind raced with questions—about Joan, about the realms, about what had truly happened to *Chroma-Veila*. But for now, those answers would have to wait.
The world was bigger than he had ever imagined, and his journey was far from over.
---
**End of Chapter 22**