CHAPTER 105: CHAPTER 105: COMING BACK FOR YOU.

The dust had not yet settled when silence fell across the ruined battlefield. The last fragments of stone clattered down from top of the massive hole, skidding to stillness around the massive crater where Calithar stood.

His breath came in short gasps, each inhale a sharp sting in his chest. The ground was torn apart around him in spiraling fractures that radiated outward like the ribs of a shattered earth.

He stared at the space where Xavriel had disappeared. Nothing moved. Not a whisper of his presence lingered. Not a trace of his laughter and no shadow of his malicious aura. It was as though the air itself had swallowed him whole. As though he had never been there. Who knew so much could happen in one day?

Slowly, Calithar lowered his gaze. His fists unclenched, trembling with exhaustion. Then the tremble moved to his knees. He tried to hold himself upright, but a heavy, crushing sensation pressed into his back, forcing him downward. His legs finally buckled beneath him, and he sank onto the broken ground.

He pressed a palm to the dirt, trying to steady himself. A strange pulse raced through his veins, hot and wild, like a second heartbeat. His chest tightened and his temples throbbed violently.

The glow in his eyes dimmed slightly, but the wings at his back refused to retract. They remained unfurled, blazing in silver and gold, spreading a soft yet overwhelming radiance across the ravaged landscape.

"What... is this..." he whispered hoarsely. His voice came out rough, strained, as though he had been parched for decades. The power that coursed through him felt alive, something he had grown out of since hundreds of years ago.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to slow his breathing.

He had been in Xavriel’s confinement for too long for his mind to be stripped to the bone by psychological torment. Perhaps this sudden awakening was the backlash of the prison’s effects. Perhaps his body had snapped and dragged forth everything it had held in for those years of imprisonment.

His wings twitched behind him, heavy as stone yet light as flame.

He felt the weight of them. The pressure. The intensity. He felt crushed beneath the sheer force of his new form. It was as if the wings were not just part of him but symbols of something he had been running from his entire life.

He pressed a hand to his forehead, wiping away the sweat that trickled down his brow. He forced himself to stand. His legs quivered as he rose, almost buckling again. But he fought through it. One painful step after another until his balance returned.

With a single push of his wings, he soared upward and out of the crater.

The world below him blurred as he ascended; the torn earth, the ruins. All of it shrank beneath him until he reached the outskirts of the demolished building where his council members waited by the damaged, broken down wall.

They froze when they saw him.

Their eyes widened. Their lips parted and they stepped back instinctively. They stared at him in absolute horror, as though the sight of him was not their king but a monster made from myth.

Calithar landed softly on the debris-stained ground, the glow of his wings illuminating their terrified faces.

"My king...?" one whispered.

Calithar could see the fear in their eyes. The confusion, the suspicion. They did not understand what they were seeing. They did not know if he truly stood before them or if something else had taken his form. Their hands shook as their voices trembled. After finding out the person ruling them for three years had been an imposter, they weren’t wrong to think so.

"Who are you?" another asked, barely able to speak. "What... what are you truly, my king?"

Calithar looked at them quietly. Then he spread his arms outward in a slow, deliberate motion, wings glowing brighter as they stretched to full span behind him. He held his palms open and said calmly,

"What do you think I am?"

The question made them flinch.

Silence stretched between them until one man swallowed hard and stammered, "A demon...?"

A woman beside him shook her head and whispered, "No... an angel."

Calithar lowered his arms and took a deep breath. He knew dragging this out would only worsen their growing panic. So he spoke the truth without hesitation.

"I am a god."

Their breaths caught.

Was, a god.

Shock rippled through the gathered crowd.

Even before they could react, Calithar brought both wings inward and allowed them to dissolve into shimmering particles of light that dissipated into the air. His appearance returned to normal. His eyes dimmed back to the human shade they recognized.

Gasps echoed followed by several stumbling backward while few dropped to their knees.

Before fear could spiral into hysteria, Calithar exhaled sharply and blew a breath of air toward them. The dust-like particles swirled through the air, covering each person like a soft breeze.

Immediately, their expressions softened. Their eyes lost the memory of what they had seen, emptying their minds of what they had just witnessed.

They blinked, looking around.

Then looked at him again, horror and fear returning back to their eyes. Some of the female members rushed to him, touching him slightly on the arm.

"My king," one said with concern as ber eyes scanned the state of the building. "What happened here?"

Calithar lifted his chin, his expression calm and gentle. That was one of the perks of being a god: memory wiping. There had been several instances when humans see what they weren’t supposed to. Because of this, the almighty god had bestowed each god with the power of memory wiping right from birth.

Calithar said the only thing that crossed his mind at that moment.

"I had a strange hunch that a large supply of special oil was hidden within the palace walls right here," he explained.

"We came to investigate. Unfortunately, there was no oil. The person controlling the equipment used to drill had a seizure, resulting into the demolition of the wall you see there. When you heard it collapse, you ran in."

The council members murmured among themselves, frowning.

"Which guard did this?" a representative asked sharply. "He must answer for the damage done. This is unacceptable."

Calithar shook his head with an easy smile.

"There is no need for punishment. Everyone makes mistakes. Let us not act out of anger."

The members sighed in relief. Their king was merciful, as always. They bowed gratefully.

Workers soon flooded through the palace gates with tools, equipment and carts loaded with gravel and stone. They began filling up the massive hole. Calithar called off the emergency gathering with a final nod and watched everyone disperse.

An hour had passed since everyone left and he was the only one in the palace.

He stood on the balcony of his private wing later that evening, leaning on the railing as he watched the progress outside. Workers moved like small ants beneath him, filling the crater and smoothing the broken earth.

Even with the peace and quiet, his mind churned. That was a close one.

A very close call.

His hands tightened around the rail.

If that strange power had not awakened... he would have been under Xavriel’s control. He knew it. In those final moments of their battle, he had been close to losing himself and he would have if the power had not showed up when it did.

Xavriel would have manipulated him. He would have taken everything from him.

Calithar shuddered, hardening his mind.

He forced himself away from the balcony and walked into his room.

Days passed and slowly, Eryndor returned to its usual rhythm. The crisis of the fake iron supply had been resolved entirely. Trade resumed, order was restored. The people were happy, unaware of how close their world had been on the edge of collapse. No one remembered anything about anything: the fake king imitation or his true being.

Calithar sat through meeting after meeting, attending to his duties, guiding his people and managing the kingdom.

But beneath his smiles and warm words, he was restless. He couldn’t explain it but he just knew something was terribly wrong especially with Xavriel on the lose.

The elders of the council summoned themselves unexpectedly one afternoon in the king’s study.

Calithar entered the vast room with curiosity, only for the representatives to stand before him with solemn expressions as they bowed. He approached the biggest, most expensive chair behind a desk carved out of onyx and sat down.

Immediately he did, the representatives spoke up.

"My king," the head representative began, "we have gathered to discuss a matter of great importance. It concerns the future of the kingdom."

" This issue has been dragged on, delayed for quite too long I must say." another one chipped in, looking as serious as serious could ever be.

Calithar leaned his head lazily on his folded knuckles. "Speak."

The man inhaled slowly.

"We believe it is time for you to take a wife." he uttered out without beating around the bush.

The words echoed across the chamber like a stone dropped into deep waters.

Calithar felt something inside him tighten. For a brief second, a flicker of shock crossed his expression, though he hid it quickly.

He knew their fears. They were humans after all; mortality and vanity shaped their concerns. They worried about the line of succession. They worried about security. They worried about the day they would grow old without anyone to lead them.

Still, they were not wrong.

"My king," the representative continued when Calithar just stared at them in silence, "we believe you must produce an heir. For the peace of the kingdom and for the future of Eryndor."

Calithar nodded silently.

"Knowing you, we trust you will not be upset with our request," another member added gently.

Calithar offered a calm smile. The kind that could sweep the most dangerous man off his feet.

"You are not wrong there." he said with a laugh but deep down, he was contemplating seriously.

The decision had already been made on their side.

"To avoid burdening you with choices," the head representative continued, "we will organize a bridal selection ceremony. We will present the suitable candidate to you in a week. Rest assured, she will meet your standards."

Calithar blinked once.

A week.

He had no time to argue, negotiate or protest. They did not plan to give him room for debate as the representatives bowed and turned to leave.

Calithar watched them until the doors shut behind them.

He exhaled slowly then he lifted his hand.

The mirror materialized in a swirl of soft light, floating before him.

He had ignored it for too long. Days had passed without him checking on her. It wasn’t his fault though. Somehow, he was glad he had chosen to stay before running off to Elena. Who knew that idiot would be faking his identity?! And as him for that matter?

He was a sucker in love with her but he wasn’t a fool. Xavriel was cunning, precise and tactical to the last letter than any snake. It was like he could see the future, plan ahead of it before it even manifested. The worst part? He was never wrong.

His chest tightened at the thought. Calithar knew his story. Not all of it, but enough. Guess the remaining part of the "enough" spoke volumes.

Now was the time. He called on the guard standing outside who entered the room immediately.

"Inform everyone who seeks me for one reason or the other: I desire to not be disturbed till I come out myself. Understood?"

The guard bowed sharply. "Yes your majesty." he said, before running off.

Calithar closed the door behind him then walked to the center of the room.

He extended his hand toward the mirror where the mirror stood.

Staring at it, its surface rippled like water touched by wind. A Wishing Mirror?

He stopped moving. Had Elena wished to leave him? Sadness enveloped him at that very moment but he shook his head, dispelling the thought.

Xavriel was the cause of this and probably that disgusting husband of hers too.

Resuming his actions, he stretched his hand out again. A burst of light erupted from the mirror followed by a hand that dragged him into it.

The mirror swallowed him whole.