Page 43 of Goddess of Light

The torches in the corridor flicker, and the guards shift their weight impatiently. They probably wonder why I’m bothering to talk to him—because I must. Because as a general, I must consider all resources, all possibilities. Trusting Rasmus blindly would be stupid, but dismissing him could be a missed opportunity.

I stand, adjusting my sword belt. “I’ll leave you to think about it,” I say. “I’m not promising we’ll trust you overnight, but trustisn’t given freely; it’s earned. Show us you can be trusted, and maybe we’ll meet you halfway.”

He watches me go without a word, and I can feel his eyes on my back. Maybe I’ve planted a seed. Maybe he’ll try something cunning. I’ll be ready either way.

I stride down the corridor, the stone floor cold beneath my boots. The weight of my new responsibilities presses on my shoulders, but I feel a strange calmness. I may not be certain of what tomorrow brings, but I’m doing my part. I’m making decisions. I’m learning to trust myself as my father trusted me with this rank. The castle’s halls still feel haunted by old fears and old loyalties, but now, I carry a bit more confidence. I won’t let fear define me.

The corridor leads me back toward the main hall. Outside, the Star Swamp shimmers softly. My father is likely on some balcony or in a chamber, wrestling with his own doubts, perhaps confiding in the snowbird, but I know he won’t give in. Neither will I. We stand on a knife’s edge, and I must hold steady.

I let out a slow breath and move on. No matter what doubts I harbor, no matter what chaos lurks outside these walls, I will face it with everything I have. If that means growing into my new title, so be it. I may not be certain I’ll succeed, but I’ll do my damned best.

For myself, for my father, for all who depend on me.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

DEATH

Morning arrives,gray and cold, muffled by a gentle snowfall that hushes the world outside the castle walls. I stand in what now serves as my personal antechamber—a small room off the main hall—holding a cup of coffee close to my chest. The scent drifts upward, rich and warm, and for a moment, I let my eyes close and savor the aroma. This coffee is contraband, really. I had a general smuggle it down from the Upper World, a private indulgence I share with no one. Well, perhaps Lovia, if she asked. Which she thankfully hasn’t. The bitterness against my tongue reminds me of a time before all this madness. It’s a small pleasure amid so much uncertainty and despair.

Outside, the Star Swamp stretches beneath a blanket of delicate white flakes, the reeds bowed under the weight. All is still, but when you look closely, you can pick out all the troops below, camouflaged in the snow.

I drink slowly, letting the heat settle in my chest. I’ve already sent my snowbird off at first light. It darted into the pale sky without a sound, heading beyond the swamp to scout the lands. I never imagined relying on that tiny-toothed creaturefor reconnaissance, but times have changed. Every ally, every resource, must be used.

I finish the cup, savoring the last drop, and head into the hall. We’ve officially turned it into a makeshift war room now, bringing in tables and chairs from other rooms. Maps are spread across surfaces, plans scribbled on scraps of parchment. My generals wait there, along with Lovia and Torben. Outside these walls, guards patrol in the muffled hush of snowfall. Inside, tension crackles along with the logs in the hearth.

Lovia stands near a map of Tuonela stretched across a long, ironwood table. She taps her fingernails lightly on the wood, impatient. Watching Lovia with patient eyes, Torben leans on a black staff with a raven skull at the end, something he procured from one of the rooms. Perhaps it belonged to Louhi at some point. The other generals have formed a cluster at the far end, quietly debating routes and positions, as if Tuonela is just another part of Finland. As I approach, they all snap to attention. Even Lovia stands a bit straighter, though I catch the hint of a fond smirk on her lips when she sees me.

“Good morning,” I say. My voice is calm, a practiced steadiness. “Any updates from last night’s discussions?”

A stout general with a scar cutting through his eyebrow steps forward. “We managed to send the messages, Lord Death.”

Lord Death. I try not to smile. How I pride myself in making them call me that.

“Runners left before dawn for the Great Inland Sea and to the Frozen Void north of here,” he continues. “If we are lucky, the sea serpents and mermaids will respond and the trolls will come to our aid.”

Originally, Vellamo wanted to go to the sea to spread the message and Tapio wanted to seek out the Keskelli, but I’m not letting any God leave this stronghold. The Gods are not expendable. Like it or not, the troops are. They’re also less likelyto be seen. They’ve been trained for it. The Gods are not used to hiding and will be found out in a second. The troops have written messages infused with Torben’s magic, which allows the recipient to hear it in the voice of the God. That way, they’re more likely to trust the messengers.

“Very good,” I say, nodding. “Torben, have you been able to strengthen our wards around the castle?”

Torben meets my eyes. “I have. I have also discovered a few spells with Ilmarinen’s help, ones that might give us extra protection in battle.”

Lovia’s eyes flick to the map. “We should ensure the wards align with natural choke points—the valleys Vellamo plans to flood, the narrow passes in the mountains, and the edges of the Hiisi Forest. If we can funnel them?—”

The generals nod. They’re soldiers, so they understand terrain, though this conflict is so far beyond a normal war. They mark down notes, muttering about supply lines and vantage points.

I lean over the map, running a finger along the drawn rivers and ridges. The River of Shadows still flows darkly, a thread through the land, and I worry Louhi’s forces might use it. “Speaking of the waterways,” I say, glancing at Torben. “Vellamo intends to manipulate the tides, but can we secure the banks? If they come by boat…” I shudder to think of the boat we use to ferry the dead being used by Louhi and her minions.

General Pekka clears his throat. “We can place gunmen and traps along the riverbanks,” he suggests. “If Torben can lay subtle wards there too, it might buy us time.”

I nod, pleased at the initiative. “Then we’ll do that. Every moment they’re delayed is a moment we can use.”

Lovia steps closer to me, lowering her voice. “What of Rasmus?” she asks quietly. “We know he’s not entirely trustworthy, but perhaps it’s time to see what he knows, towring some advantage from him. He was helpful to me the other night.”

I straighten, considering. She’s right; Rasmus has been a thorn in our side, full of secrets and half-truths. If he knows something—anything—that can help us gain an edge against Louhi, we must have it. “Agreed,” I say. “Handle the strategy here for a moment. I’ll question him myself.”

Time to put my mind-melding powers to the test.

Lovia gives a curt nod. I know she hates being away from action—she’s been itching to get out there and fight already—but this is action of a sort. She’ll keep the generals focused, and Torben will keep the plans balanced.