My Vampire Prince..-Chapter 124: Reviving old memories

Calithar sat alone in the mist-covered flower garden, a place that had once been nothing more than a shell of its former self.

Tall stalks of moonblossom swayed gently, their petals glowing faintly beneath the dreary evening sky. White star-roses curled toward the light in the mist while vines of silverleaf wrapped themselves around the carved pillars that had stood broken for centuries while he was away. The air still smelled of damp earth, sweet nectar, and the faint, eerie tinge of divine power.

The earth agents had done their work well, Calithar thought.

They were strange creatures, neither fully sentient nor mindless, born of soil, stone, and divine will yet far different from God’s masterpieces, the humans.

They were beings created by the gods themselves and they existed for one purpose alone: to shape, heal, and restore the anything when commanded. They were already given the powers by their heads and so we subject to their command.

It was they who had come to restore Calithar’s abode to repair what had been lost to time and abandonment.

What had once been desolate was alive again.

Yet Calithar felt none of the satisfaction he should have.

He sat on a low stone bench, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped as mist curled around his ankles and into the air.

His golden eyes stared forward, unfocused, as his thoughts drifted far from the garden and even farther from the realm he now occupied.

Eryndor.

The thought alone was enough to tighten something in his chest.

Strange enough, he missed it. Gods, how he missed it. It had been his home once and yet his prison too at the same time.

A thousand years of exile did not erase his memory. If anything, it sharpened it.

He was glad it was behind him. Glad to be free of the endless judgment and accusations the cold eyes that never forgot his sin made. Yet even with that relief, Calithar couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of emptiness and loneliness.

The one and only woman he had loved and had suffered a thousand years in exile after being stripped of his divinity was still not his.

Her name echoed over and over again in his mind like a forbidden prayer.

Calithar had just received pardon after a thousand years of punishment. A thousand years of watching from afar, of feeling the strong urge to be with the one loves in the mortal world without being allowed to touch it. A thousand years for a single act of love that heaven had deemed unforgivable.

And now, newly restored as a god, he stood at the edge of committing the same sin all over again.

Not that he cared much but the dilemma tore at him.

Either he risked everything and returned to Elena, defying heaven once more, or he stayed where he was, embraced his restored divinity, and became the revered god he was meant to be.

A god without her.

Calithar released a long, heavy sigh.

"This is impossible," he muttered.

He rose from the low bench and began to walk. The garden stretched endlessly as the pathway overflowed with the divine cleansing mist.

The mist that lingered throughout the garden was no ordinary vapor. It was a purifier, woven by the true god and earth magic, designed to cleanse the land of lingering corruption. Evil spirits, warped entities, and remnants of dark energy that had claimed the place during its abandonment were slowly being erased by its presence.

And because it was such a divine purifier, it was exclusively retained for only the top emergencies.

Calithar did not know when the mist would finally dissipate. Days, months, perhaps years. He found he did not mind. The haze suited his mood anyway.

He walked a little farther, lost in thought, when something unfamiliar caught his attention.

He stopped and his gaze shifted to the side of the path when he suddenly remembered

"That is impossible."

Calithar owned millions of books. Entire libraries had been brought from Eryndor and arranged within his domain on his request. He had seen and inspected every single book that had come into his new dwelling but not that one. There was one book missing.

His pulse quickened as he rushed into the house for the his study. The book’s cover, if he remembered clearly, was dark, worn, and bound in leather.

It was his book. The one he had not seen since before his exile.

Calithar turned sharply toward the main structure and broke into a hurried stride that quickly became a run.

He entered the building at the heart of the domain and continued his half run when the interior opened into his private chambers.

His bedroom was a sanctuary unlike any other.

A natural cave formed the back wall and a wide bed rested against it, draped in deep green and gold fabrics. Beyond the cave, water cascaded downward in a shimmering waterfall, flowing past a small hill before crashing gently into a hidden basin. At the far end stood a massive stone wall, blocking passage to whatever lay beyond. It was an entrance to worlds unknown but it had been sealed by powers stronger than he was till he redeemed himself before them.

Calithar moved through the room with frantic urgency, his hands flying across the shelves stacked with books, scrolls, and artifacts. He overturned the boxes and crates as his breathing grew shallow.

Nothing.

The book was nowhere to be found.

"No, no, no," he whispered, dragging a hand through his hair.

Panic rose swiftly through his very being. That book was not merely a collection of words. It held his past, his memories, his confessions, sealed away by his divinity. Every god had a book of its kind and it was absolutely unforgivable to lose it or let any evil befall it.

If heaven discovered its disappearance, the consequences would be far worse than exile.

And if it had somehow fallen into the human world...

Calithar froze up again.

No human was permitted to see the memories of an angel, let alone a god.

His chest tightened as the realization struck him fully. He could not afford this mistake.

Calithar forced himself to stop pacing.

Think. Think. Think!

But he couldn’t think! He couldn’t even remember when last he saw the book.

There is a way. Of course there is. There always is..., he muttered to himself.

The book was bound to him as it was woven with his essence. He could summon it. Or at the very least, trace it.

Calithar closed his eyes and placed a hand over his chest.

The world around him faded as he entered the spirit realm, slipping past the physical and into the deeper currents of existence. Power surged through him, awakening his long restrained senses.

When he opened his eyes again, his expression had changed.

His panic was gone but a deep sadness enveloped him instead.

What remained was disbelief and a string, stinging, longing.

"...Why...why does it have to be you?" he whispered.

His hand fell slowly to his side.

Now that he was a god again, he was no longer confined to a single realm. The chains that had once bound him were gone. He could move freely between worlds, just as the adversary did, though he despised the comparison.

The human world had changed greatly during his absence.

There were machines now whom he was told were roaring beasts of metal with four wheels that humans called ’cars’ and smaller ones balanced on two wheels.

Calithar cared for none of it.

All he wanted was the book.

And her. He knew if he ever had even a glimpse of her again, he would never be able to stop himself.

After a moment of thinking, Calithar walked past the waterfall and into it without hesitation.

No matter what, that book was so much more important than anything else right now.

Water parted around him as though recognizing his presence. On the other side, he emerged into Zerathane with his form subtly altered.

His face shifted and his features adjusted to a more human appearance. As a god, he was entitled to secrecy, as long as his actions did not tarnish the image of heaven or bring disgrace upon his name.

He moved effortlessly through the palace walls. He closed his eyes and reached outward, sensing the world.

Nothing.

He did not need to search manually. As the earth god, his awareness stretched across sll continents. Mountains, cities, forests, deserts, all were within his reach.

He searched one country.

Then another.

And another.

Each attempt returned the same hollow result.

She was nowhere. Worse still, his book was nowhere.

"What is this?" he muttered in slight frustration, his steps slowing as he appeared in a distant land.

A horrifying thought struck him.

If Elena was not in the palace or on another country he had visited on earth, then that could only mean...

"No," Calithar said sharply, shaking his head. "No. That is not possible."

He refused to believe it. Elena could not have died. Not like that. Not without him knowing. Every single death was reported to him daily by the angel of death. Even with that reassurance, the thought clawed at him, his disbelief mixing with dread.

"I just need to search harder that’s all." Calithar told himself.

For a moment, he considered asking Seraphine for help. She should know. She always did.

But he dismissed the idea. Seraphine had already risked enough for him. It wouldn’t be too pretty to keep going to a past admirer for help now would it?

Calithar found himself walking through a city street of another distant country. Voices, engines, footsteps, all blended into an overwhelming hum.

As he walked quietly, a car sped past, hitting a puddle and splashing muddy water across him.

He dodged most of it, but some droplets still managed to get on him and stain his clothes.

No one even looked at him.

"Watch where you’re going you prude!" was all he got as an apology.

Calithar exhaled slowly, surveying the scene around him. Humans hurried past with their eyes fixed ahead and their faces closed off.

When did the human world become so...cold?

There was no kindness here, no awareness of anything beyond their own lives. The mockery of individualism: Every man of himself, by himself, for himself.

Calithar scoffed.

"I see the adversary has been quite busy," he said quietly.

He brushed off his trousers and continued walking, turning onto a quieter street.

That was when he heard it. Laughter.

Calithar moved instinctively, slipping behind an abandoned fence. A gnarled tree stood before it, providing perfect cover.

Ahead of him were some shadows. He deduced from their stance that a confrontation was unfolding.

Several aggressive looking men surrounded a single figure, saying something in their mocking voices. Behind that figure stood a woman, mostly hidden from view by a much bigger man.

Calithar’s gaze sharpened.

The man at the front radiated something foul. Dark, corrupted energy rolled off him in thick, suffocating waves. It was not demonic but not entirely human either.

Nothing else in existence carried such a signature.

Deeply intrigued by this new creature, Calithar stayed silent.

The woman remained behind the man until, without warning, she moved.

She leapt forward with startling speed, lifting both legs so that it formed a ninety degree and drove her fist straight into one of the attackers’ nose.

The sound of bone cracking sounded through the empty street.

"What?" Calithar breathed.

The men shouted in surprise as the injured one staggered back, blood pouring from his face down to his neck. The woman landed lightly on her feet, her eyes blazing then she stepped fully into view.

Calithar’s world stopped. This woman...

This woman had the exact same body proportions with Elena.

"El—?"