Page 27 of Goddess of Light

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Page 27 of Goddess of Light

My fists clench. Louhi’s cruelty never surprises me, but I feel a fresh surge of disgust. She weaponized this mortal, stole his energy and twisted it into fuel for her conquests. “Where is she now?” I demand, voice colder than the ice outside.

Ilmarinen’s head lolls. His eyes focus somewhere past me, on the chains rattling in a faint draft. “Don’t know,” he murmurs. “She left. Said she had what she needed. Something about…Hanna and power awakening.”

His words strike me like a hammer.

I lean over Ilmarinen, letting him see my eyes, letting him feel a fraction of my influence. “What else do you know?” I say, this time softer, cajoling. “What are her plans? How can I stop her?”

The chained shaman shudders and tries to lift his head. “She…she said the Underworld would be hers,” he wheezes. “She wants to rewrite death…turn it into something monstrous. A place of eternal suffering. No rest, no peace. And Hanna… She fears Hanna. Or…needs her. I don’t remember.” His voice breaks, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. “My mind…fuzzy. She took so much. I can’t remember everything.”

I swallow thickly. The idea that Louhi wants to change the nature of death itself enrages me. Death should be a release, a transition, not endless torment. That’s not how I designed Tuonela. I might be arrogant, might delight in reminding mortals of their mortality, but I am not cruel for cruelty’s sake. Death must have order, purpose. Louhi is destroying that order. She is usurping my domain and the one mercy we’ve allowed humans after they die.

I realize I’m trembling, fury coursing through my veins. I glance at Torben, his mouth set into a hard line. The generals stand mute, not understanding what any of this means but ready all the same.

“Ilmarinen,” I say, voice steady now. “We will free you, but you must tell us how we can fight her.”

His gaze flickers with a hint of gratitude, but then it dims. “You can’t fight her directly,” he says on a cough. “Not now. She’s too strong. She’s gathered Old Gods to her side, gave them freedom from their slumber. She’s twisting the Underworld’s energies, feeding on them. You’d need something else. Allies.” He laughs weakly, a sound like bone scraping stone. “If there are any left.”

“Enough,” I say gently. “Rest.” I motion to Torben to help me remove his chains. With some effort, the shaman’s bindings come loose, and Ilmarinen cries out as his arms fall free, fresh blood welling from where the iron cut his flesh. One of the generals pulls out a strip of cloth, and I use it to wrap his wrists. I may be Death, but I’m not heartless. This man suffered for Louhi’s gain.

Now, he’s our best source of information.

Ilmarinen watches me warily. “You…you’re different than I imagined,” he says, voice parched. “I thought the God of Death would be colder, crueler.”

I almost laugh at that. “I can be cruel,” I say. “But cruelty without reason bores me. I prefer order, and I would have you alive rather than lost in Oblivion.” I nod at Torben, who nods back. We help Ilmarinen stand; he’s weak, barely able to hold himself upright, so I instruct one of the generals to support him.

“Do you know of anything in this palace we can use?” Torben asks. “Weapons, relics, something to give us an edge? We have the Finnish army outside waiting to do our bidding.”

Ilmarinen shakes his head slowly. “She took most of what mattered with her, but…the armory might still hold scraps. Old blades, talismans. Not enough to defeat Louhi outright, but perhaps something to protect yourselves. There’s a library upstairs too—maybe some knowledge there? My powers are too weak, but I recognize a fellow shaman when I see one.”

I press a hand to my temple. More delays, more detours, but what choice do I have? I need every advantage.

“Ilmarinen,” I say, surprised by the gentleness in my voice. “Come with us. Show us the armory. Help us if you can. I’ll see you safe, I promise.” A hollow promise in a realm of shadows, but I mean it as much as I’m able. He nods, resigned, leaning heavily on the general’s shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Torben whispers as he leans in to me. “He is too weak to travel. He can just tell us where the armory is.”

I give him a steady look. “I know he’s weak and discarded, but I don’t trust him yet. I can’t leave him alone unchained. Louhi’s influence runs so much deeper than one would believe. I should know.”

He thinks about that for a moment and then nods.

“Let’s go,” he says. “I’ll help my fellow shaman.”

He moves to Ilmarinen and, together with the general, supports him.

“The armory is in the basement,” Ilmarinen says, voice a deep rasp. “Follow the stairs all the way down, then to the left.”

I lead the group out of the chamber, back through the iron door, and into the half-lit corridor, General Pekka behind me. We hurry down the stairs as quickly as we can without leaving them behind. Amidst the echo of our boots, the palace groans softly, as if resenting our presence.

Hanna’s face drifts before my mind’s eye—her fierce determination, the way she challenged me. Damn it, I want her by my side again. I need her, and that alone shocks me to my core. I’ve never needed anyone. Is that love? Perhaps. If it is, let it be a weapon. Let it drive me forward, push me beyond my limits. If I have to stare down Old Gods, break apart Louhi’s schemes, and tear down reality itself to reach her, I will.

We reach the end of the stairs and head to the left. As we move, Ilmarinen’s breathing hitches. He points down a side passage, where a door carved with sigils stands slightly ajar. “There,” he says hoarsely. “Past that hall, down a staircase. The armory is below.”

I nod, pressing on. Whatever scraps of power and weaponry we can salvage, we will. Then, we’ll leave this forsaken place. Outside, my borrowed soldiers build barricades, ready to hold back whatever nightmares might wander in while we’re here. I wonder how long they will last once I release their minds. Long enough, I hope, to matter. Long enough to save Tuonela.

Which, in turn, will save their own world.

But just as I’m about to enter the armory, I hear a stampede of footsteps, and a general calls out from behind us.

“Uh, sir? There are people approaching the castle.”




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