Page 40 of Goddess of Light
I nod again. “Good,” I say, voice quieter now. Every promise of help is a candle in the darkness. “Torben, can you erect wards to protect key positions?”
He sets his jaw and nods. “Temporarily, but I’ll try.” He glances at Rasmus. “If I have help, even better.”
Rasmus nods, looking determined. I still don’t trust him, though.
Vellamo straightens, trying to show resolve. “We’ve lost much. We will not lose more without a fight. I’ll see to that.”
Tapio murmurs agreement, though he looks as if his heart is ashes. “The forest is under my domain, but only when I’m in it. Still, I do have a connection to the animals of the land. We can use them as scouts, birds especially. And Tellervo’s green magic can control plants anywhere in the realm.”
“Then that’s a start,” I tell them by way of dismissal.
The generals begin murmuring amongst themselves, exchanging tactical ideas: ambushes, scouting missions, coded messages. Torben, Ilmarinen, and Rasmus move to a corner, whispering about stabilizing energy currents and forging anchors. Lovia stands near me, her eyes still bright with impatience, but I see the way her hand tightens on her sword hilt.
“I want you to be my general, Lovia,” I say to her. I shoot General Pekka a wry glance. “Sorry, mortal, you’ve been bumped a spot. You’ll now answer to Loviatar.”
I swear, I see a hint of disappointment in his eyes. Perhaps I’m not controlling him as much as I thought.
No offense, I put the thought in his mind.You’re doing a good job.
He relaxes slightly, but my daughter’s mouth is agape. “General? Are you sure?”
“I have no doubt,” I tell her.
She raises her chin at that. “I won’t let you down.”
“You better not,” I say under my breath, to which she laughs.
I laugh too, even though it rings hollow.
I catch a reflection of myself in a polished shield mounted on the wall. I look older somehow, wearier. Grief and guilt have carved out my cheeks, made my eyes darker, like an old silver coin. I must not let them see me falter. I force my posture straight, my shoulders square. I am Death. They look to me as their king, and a king I must be.
I dismiss the meeting with a nod, and the assembly breaks apart. The generals hurry off, eager to begin preparations and to consort with the troops, many of whom are taking shifts getting warmth and shuteye in the rooms of the east wing.
Rasmus stands uncertainly until guards nudge him along. Ilmarinen follows, guarded closely, led to their own rooms for potential traitors. Tapio, Tellervo, and Vellamo linger at a window, heads bowed, speaking softly of routes and weather, grief heavy in their voices. Lovia gives me one last look, one of gratitude, and then strides away after the Magician.
I slip through a side corridor, my footsteps echoing softly. Torches sputter, casting trembling light on pale banners adorned with wings and ram horns, Louhi’s crest and emblem. Synti Castle is foreign to me, a place I never intended to use as a command center, but we are refugees in our own realm now, forced into corners we never imagined. My mind churns with strategies, half-formed plans, desperate hopes. I feel the weight of this looming war pressing down on me like a heavy mantle.
I step onto a narrow balcony high above the Star Swamp. Night drapes the world in quiet darkness, the swamp a blanket of white. A hush has settled over the landscape, the only sound the gently falling snow. Far beyond the swamp lies the Hiisi Forest, still reeling from the horrors that happened there. Beyond that, distant mountains rise as jagged silhouettes against pale skies, barely visible even to my far-reaching eyes.Shadow’s End waits beyond those peaks, my former stronghold, now Louhi’s lair.
My throat tightens; that was my domain, my seat of power. To think that my enemies roam its halls—her laughter echoing where once my quiet rule held sway—is enraging. But I must not give in to blind fury. I must remain calm, controlled, even when all I want to do is exact my revenge and make it rain blood.
I press my palms against the balcony’s stone rail. I remember Ahto’s laughter, how he guided the seas of Tuonela, how we would discuss the nature of existence over cups of bitter elixir he procured from clams and seagrass. He never liked the sweetvine wines. Now, he’s dead, and I bear that failure like a scar. I was supposed to protect this realm, maintain balance. Instead, Kaaos reigns.
I worry about Hanna. Is she becoming something more, someone capable of aiding us? Or will she remain absent, lost to the realm of light, never to return? I can’t depend on her, and it hurts me to the core to admit that. I know I said she would return, but I have been wrong before. I’m not sure what I would do if I was.
A flutter of wings startles me, and I glance to my left, surprised to see a small white bird land on the balcony rail. My breath catches. This bird is no random creature—it’s my snowbird, now out of its cage. I thought the damn thing hated me, yet here it is, feathers pure as snow, head cocked, regarding me with bright, curious eyes.
The bird hops closer, as if testing my reaction. Slowly, I extend a hand. It eyes me then takes a small leap and settles on my hand before it flaps up to my shoulder, its tiny claws gentle against my cloak. I stand utterly still, stunned.
In its presence, something in my chest loosens. The snowbird is a sign, is it not? That hope is not lost? That I still have a holdon this land that’s supposed to be mine? I feel my eyes sting with emotion I shouldn’t show, but here, in the dark, I do.
I close my eyes, focusing on the bird’s soft breathing. For a moment, I let myself feel all the sorrow, the guilt, the worry. I let it rise and then settle. I am the God of Death and King of the Underworld. I have endured eons before, and I can endure this too. I must. My people need me. Lovia looks to me with defiance and loyalty. Tapio, Tellervo, and Vellamo grieve but have not yielded. Torben, the Magician, the generals, even Rasmus and Ilmarinen—all pieces on a board I must arrange.
When I open my eyes again, I survey the land spread beneath the starlight.
My land.
I lift my chin. The bird remains on my shoulder in silent support. I will not fail. I will form a plan, strike at their weaknesses, and reclaim my throne. If I have to forge uneasy alliances, so be it. If I must fight without Hanna, I will. My remorse and guilt do not vanish, but they harden into resolve. I may be humbled, grieving, and unsure, but I am still a God. This is my realm. I will not let them extinguish the light of what we have built here.