Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
“Don’t you want your brother back? Rasmus? Tapio?” he asks calmly.
“Yes but…so let Hanna do her thing and bring them back and we’ll figure out what to do with Louhi and—”
“That’s not an option, Lovia,” I say, raising my hand and cutting her off. “Defeating them took everything out of us. We can’t go through that again, especially since there will be no real defeat. We’ll never be rid of them.”
She sighs, broken. She’ll have to come to terms with it. If this works, if we can get everyone back, then it’s worth everything, including the Magician. Besides, he is the one making this choice. It’s his and his alone.
“You knew, didn’t you?” she says, shaking her head at him. “All along. Every damn thing you said, every riddle—this is what you were preparing for.” She takes a step closer toward him, fists clenched. “And you didn’t tell me.”
The Magician’s stars dim. “Would it have changed anything?”
She falters, her jaw working as tears spill down her face. “Yes. No—I don’t know. You—” Her voice breaks, and she turns away.
The Magician reaches out, hesitant, as if he wants to touch her but doesn’t dare. “It’s because of you, Loviatar, that I can do this,” he says gently. “You gave me a heart.”
Her shoulders shake, but she doesn’t respond.
Silence falls around us, the air tense with Lovia’s heartbreak and the possibility of bringing our loved ones back. The idea of seeing Tuonen again nearly has me in pieces, but I try not to dwell on it, try not to get ahead of myself until I lay eyes on him and feel him in my arms.
Without much fanfare, the Magician turns to Hanna and says, “Do it,” before stepping back into place.
Hanna looks at me briefly, her face lined with exhaustion, with fear, but also something else—a quiet, unshakable resolve. Hope. She nods once, then turns toward the empty air before her. Golden light gathers at her fingertips, warm and fragile, as if she’s holding the sunrise itself. It spreads outward slowly, waves of light rolling over the garden like a tide, chasing back the shadows. The Magician raises his arms as the glow washes over him. Starlight pours from him in answer, like a thousand embers scattering into the wind.
I watch as his form begins to unravel, the galaxies in his eyes spilling upward into the sky. His body disintegrates into a cascade of stars, glowing brighter and brighter as they rise, as though the heavens themselves are claiming him.
Lovia’s anguished cry pierces the stillness, and she drops to her knees as he vanishes. I can’t bear to look at her. It’s a special thing to witness your child’s first broken heart, and as trivial as it seems, I do feel her pain as my own and want to protect her from it.
But she will learn and grow in time.
The light that was the Magician grows brighter now, spreading across the garden, and then, just as suddenly as it began, it stops. For a moment, there’s silence. The glow fades, leaving only the ruins of the garden and a cold, heavy stillness. My chest tightens.
Nothing happens.
I look around, the remaining gods and troops that haven’t gone home yet through the portal, murmuring and whispering, fearing that the sacrifice was made in vain.
Then, from beyond the garden wall, I hear it—footsteps.
Whispers.
I freeze, hardly daring to believe it, as they come closer and closer, a murmuring crowd.
Slowly, I turn my head toward the gate, my heart thudding painfully in my chest, too afraid to hope.
Tuonen steps into view.
My son.
He walks toward me, his horns whole, his face young and alive again, his silver eyes wide with wonder. He looks at me, at the garden, and then his gaze locks onto mine. “Father?” he says softly.
The word shatters something inside me. I don’t remember moving, but suddenly I’m there, crushing him against my chest. My hands shake as I clutch him close, my breath ragged. He’s real. He’s warm. Alive.
“Tuonen,” I choke out, my voice breaking. “Tuonen, my boy.”
He clings to me just as tightly, murmuring words I can’t hear over the sound of my own pounding heart. I don’t care. I have him back. My son is back.
But it isn’t just him.
From the garden gate, more figures emerge. Tapio steps forward next, tall and strong, his antlered staff whole and gleaming. He walks arm-in-arm with Nyyrikki, his adult son, and Mielikki, his wife, their family of Forest Gods whole and complete again. Tapio nods toward me, his eyes filled with gratitude, and Tellervo cries out with unbridled joy as she runs across the garden and right into their arms. Together they topple into a patch of lemon balm and mint, laughing and crying, finally reunited.
Rasmus follows, his red hair bright as a flame. He gives Lovia a small, gentle smile as he passes. She’s still kneeling, shaking, unable to look at him. He hesitates, then kneels beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t resist—just bows her head and weeps harder, her tears turning to ones of joy as they embrace. Torben then goes over to him, pulling his estranged son into a hug and holding him tight.