Page 37 of Goddess of Light
Rauta gives a low, affirmative huff. The dog seems content with this decision, as if recognizing that resting and gathering strength might be best. He has already done so much for me; he deserves the rest.
Vipunen’s light glows brighter for a moment, only to dim to a comfortable glow. “There are streams deeper in, edible fungi, places to rest. Time flows oddly here; you will not starve or wither. Think of this cave as a womb of stone, cradling you until the moment comes to be reborn into action. That moment will arrive, I assure you. Your father will not forget you, nor will fate’s tapestry neglect your thread.”
I bow my head, tears slipping free now—not sobbing, just quiet resignation and sorrow for Sarvi, for the realm, for my own helplessness. All the emotions I’ve tried to keep buried inside come to a head at a most inopportune time.
But there’s also a flicker of hope. If Vipunen says my father will come, I must trust it. My father is strong, resourceful, and surrounded by allies. Plus, he’s spiteful as fuck. If there’s a wayto save Sarvi or to strike at Louhi’s heart, he’ll find it, and I can rejoin him when the time is right.
“Thank you,” I manage, voice low, raw. “I’ll wait. I’ll learn patience again.”
Perhaps I’ll have a virtue after all.
Vipunen’s presence hums through the stone, a gentle reassurance. “No thanks needed. You walk your own path, Tuonen. I am only the light in the cracks, the old watcher who shaped you long ago. Rest. Regain your strength.”
I guide Rauta toward a quieter corner of the cavern, where a small pool of water reflects the faint glow. The dog settles down, laying his iron head on his paws. I kneel beside him, trailing a hand through the still water. The silence is profound but not lonely. I have Rauta, at least, and somewhere above, my father and others fight for the realm.
So, I wait, breathing steadily in the hush of ancient stone and gentle light as time drifts and destiny’s pattern weaves unseen.
Unseen by all but the Oldest God.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DEATH
The night is dark.
I’m now standing in the cavernous hall where Louhi must have strategized her attack on my world. It’s strange how a place can hold echoes of another’s presence even after they’re gone. Louhi once paced these floors, plotting and smirking and planning my demise. Now, I’m about to use the very space where she schemed against me to plot her downfall. It’s fitting in a way, but it doesn’t feel victorious. It feels desperate, as if I’m only here out of sheer necessity, which is the cold, hard truth.
The hall is constructed of obsidian and volcanic ash, the walls carved with old runes and sigils I can’t bring myself to read right now. Columns rise like inky trunks in a moonlit forest, and strange banners—left behind by Louhi or her minions—hang limp in the still air. The torchlight flickers, shadows dance, and the people I’ve gathered stand in an uneasy semicircle before me. They look at me expectantly as I pace behind the large, ironwood desk, maps strewn about the surface Torben had found in the cellar.
In the middle of the group, on the other side of the desk, stands Lovia. She looks strong, fierce, defiant. I’m glad she’shere—I need her strength, her fire. Still, it shames me that I have to rely on my own child in this madness. She has proven herself countless times, I know, but I still feel guilty that I’ve allowed the world to come to this point. I was supposed to protect all of them: my children, my people, my allies. The despair that gnaws at me is relentless. I swallow it down. I cannot show it. Gods must be unshakable, must they not?
And yet, I’ve already shown too much. My pain over Ahto. My rage at Rasmus. The humble pie the Magician forced me to eat when he wielded magic stronger than a God’s.
Missteps, pitfalls, I tell myself. A glimpse at weakness. You must return to being the all-powerful leader they need.
Behind Lovia are the other Gods: Tapio, Tellervo, and Vellamo. Tapio, the Forest God, once proud and brimming with quiet strength, is now hollow with grief. The loss of his wife and their son has left him raw; I can feel his pain like an open wound in the air. Vellamo, my sister-in-law, stands next to him, her own loss just as palpable.
Because it’s my loss too.
The Magician lurks near a column, galaxies swirling beneath his hood. I know he sees more than the rest of us. He probably knows how this might end. His refusal to share what he knows unsettles me, but I cannot press him. I can’t afford to alienate an ally, even an ambiguous one. Still, I hate that helpless feeling, the idea that I must accept riddles when I crave certainty. More than that, I hate that he has magic that makes me appear weak and that he’s in charge of when he uses it. I can only hope he does remain our ally; I would hate to see what might happen if he were to suddenly switch sides.
Rasmus and Ilmarinen linger nearby; I’ve ordered the generals and a few troops to watch them at all times. The Magician might have faith that Rasmus has a part to play, but I have no doubt that son of a bitch will try to usurp us the firstchance he gets. Lovia has explained why they brought him, but he’s as trustworthy as a viper in a cradle.
As for Ilmarinen, the shaman is weak, and he speaks poorly of Louhi, but he reminds me too much of Rasmus. Louhi’s influence runs deep, and I would be a fool to put all my trust into him just because he suffered at her hands for decades. I know how insidious her ways are, how they can lodge inside you and manifest. We might need Ilmarinen while we’re here, but I won’t put my full trust in him yet, not when Louhi’s magic might still linger.
The generals shift their weight uneasily, representing the hundreds of troops out in the cold flanked around the castle. They know war on mortal terms, but this is a conflict waged on spiritual, magical, and metaphysical fronts. They glance at me with expectation, trying to find in my eyes the certainty they lack. I realize, with a pang, that everyone here looks to me. Tuonela is my realm; I am its God, its King. If I fail, what hope is there?
I draw a slow breath and begin, forcing my voice to remain steady and calm. “We have little time,” I say, the words echoing softly in the hall. “Louhi and Rangaista hold Shadow’s End. They command the Bone Stragglers, my own armies, and Old Gods who were supposed to be sleeping. We know that, at some point, my son, Tuonen, and my loyal servant, Sarvi, were with them, but their whereabouts are now unknown. We also know Louhi has taken control of my magicked double, my shadow self, and that Salainen, another pawn of Louhi’s and Hanna’s half-sister, is pretending to be the queen herself.”
At the mention of Salainen, Torben sucks in a breath. For a second, I consider glaring at him, since both Salainen and Rasmus are his fault, but he also brought me Hanna, and for that, I have to be grateful. Besides, I know the man feels shame.I’ve spent more than enough time with him now to see how deep it runs in his bones.
I clear my throat and go on. “The City of Death has fallen. Inmost has spread to the other layers. There is no order in the afterlife, only Kaaos. This has always been Louhi’s final goal, perhaps put in place by her father, the Demon God Rangaista, before she was even born. But now that she has succeeded in getting what she wants, we must figure out both what her next steps are and how we can defeat her and the Old Gods and bring Tuonela back.”
“We need a list of our allies,” Lovia chimes in. “Who else is there to help us? We could send scouts to find and bring them back here, maybe.”
“Very well. So, who else is there?” I ask the room.
“Hanna,” Torben says.