Page 23 of Goddess of Light
My leg feels surprisingly good, at least. Tellervo performed a miracle, and that I can walk without limping or feeling any pain is amazing. But still, there’s anxiety inside me that can’t be healed.
It’s because of the Magician. He is right beside me, silent yet not silent. Even when he isn’t speaking, the presence of those swirling galaxies under his hood is a language of its own. In the dark, the stars on his face glow, and I know his mood in the subtle shifts of constellations, the way colors bloom and fade. I’ve never met anyone like him—divine yet not a God, not a human or a creature. Something else entirely.
I can’t help but notice how the ferns brush against his robes, how leaves get caught and released, how carefully he avoids stepping on saplings. The forest here respects him as much as they do the Forest Gods, and he respects the forest. There’s an ease to his existence here, to everywhere, really.
I clear my throat quietly, choosing my moment. “We’ve never really talked, have we?” I say, keeping my voice low so it doesn’t carry to the others ahead.
The Magician’s head tilts slightly, galaxies swirling into a gentle lavender hue. “Not openly,” he agrees, his voice that curious blend of distant and intimate, like a whisper in a quiet hall. “You give orders, that’s for certain. But you’re right—we haven’t really talked.”
I smile at that as I pick my way over a root snaking across the path, Tapio and Tellervo guiding us deeper into denser forest. “Sorry. I guess I can be a little bossy.”
“No need to apologize to me,” he says. “I like to be bossed around from time to time.” He pauses. “What would you like to talk about?”
“I don’t know,” I say, feeling silly suddenly. This is not my usual territory. Emotions, confessions…these things come easily when I’m in the Upper World, seducing a mortal for a night or a week. I can play the part of the dark goddess, feed their fantasies, and leave without regret. But this? Sharing something genuine—or what I believe to be genuine—with someone from my own world? It’s strange. “Back there, with Yggthra,” I say, trying to find a good opening, “thank you for saving my life. Again.”
Man, I need to work on my conversational skills, because they are lacking big time right now.
“You saved mine,” he replies simply. “It’s mutual.”
But…do you really have a life to save? You’re not mortal, I think.
What are you?
My gaze drifts to the sides of the path, to the twisted trunks and the moss that hangs in curtains from branches. Something about the silence of this forest puts me on edge, but at least we’re moving, pressing forward.
“Your powers… Do you know where they come from?” I ask, deciding it’s a nicer question thanwhat are you? I mean, I know he’s “the universe,” but even as a Goddess, I just can’t wrap my head around what that means.
He’s silent for a few steps, considering. “My powers are a tapestry woven from many threads,” he says. “Some come from the primordial essence of the Underworld, some from deals made long ago, with forces beyond Gods and mortals. Some come direct from the Creator themself. You’ve noticed I see things others can’t.”
“You do more than see,” I say. “I think you can manipulate reality, just enough to tilt the odds. That’s unusual. Most Gods have direct dominion over something natural—seasons, elements, life, death—but you? You’re different.”
Really different.
A soft laugh escapes him, a sound like distant bells. “I’m not a God,” he says. “And obviously, I’m no mortal. Think of me as a…traveling scholar of arcane arts. When I say I know things, it’s because I’ve studied countless scrolls, spoken to ancient spirits that existed before even the Old Gods, wandered realms where time folds on itself. The galaxy you see is…a byproduct, a reflection of how I perceive the world. Sometimes, I reflect how you perceive the world.”
I stare at him for a moment before laughing, feeling a slight flush on my cheeks. “Now my mind is really blown.”
“There’s so much more out there that you don’t understand, Lovia,” he says. “And it’s not an insult to your intelligence. It’s that even Gods have limits. Even Gods can’t comprehend how the universe really works. They aren’t meant to.”
“Well, I’m definitely not a philosopher,” I admit, growing quieter. “Until recently, I don’t think I had much interest in anything, really. Definitely nothing in Tuonela. Did you know I’ve been sneaking out to the Upper World for years now? I even talked to Hanna about maybe leaving my duty here behind and going away for a while.”
He’s silent for a moment before he nods. “I did know that.”
“Oh. No secrets, then.”
“You can have your secrets, Lovia,” he says. “I don’t have to know everything. I can choose not to. But somewhere along the way, you’ve caught my attention.”
My cheeks grow warmer. “Is that so? You mean to tell me, as you’ve sat outside the City of Death and dealt cards for each incoming mortal, you’ve managed to find the time to think about little old me?”
I’m half-teasing him, but even so, my heart is starting to pound at the thought. Which, really, is ridiculous. With everything happening around us, the absolute last thing I need isto be flirting with an ancient, mysterious deity like the Magician, the universe itself, whatever that means.
And yet…
Here I am, fumbling through it.
“I haven’t sought you out,” he says, to which my chest deflates. “Rather, your life has infiltrated my vision from time to time. You more than anyone else.”
I swallow hard, daring to ask. “And what do you think that means?”