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)
Rauta’s tail scrapes softly against the wooden boards, a subtle rhythm that keeps my nerves from unraveling completely—he must sense my tension. He’s the only ally I have left right now, and I’m grateful for his steady presence. There’s no fear, no doubt, just silent loyalty.
The air down here is damp and stale, heavy with the scent of algae and rot. The occasional drip from above makes me flinch, and I can’t help but imagine threats lurking in every shadow, but nothing attacks us yet. The tunnel widens gradually, the ceiling arching higher, the silence growing more profound. If we can get to the Crystal Caves, I remind myself, we’ll have a chance to navigate beyond Louhi’s grasp and disappear into the rest of Tuonela. I must believe that.
When it feels like I’ve been rowing forever, the darkness starts to recede. Ahead, I see a soft, eerie glow—phosphorescent moss or lichen clinging to the cavern’s walls. As we approach, the waterway broadens into an underground lake that bends around corners. Amethyst stalactites drip overhead, and strange crystal formations loom like sentinels. I slow the oars, letting the boat drift.
“Rauta,” I whisper. The dog’s head lifts, ears tilting as he listens. “We must be getting close.” The hound offers no reply, only a faint scraping of claws on wood, but I imagine he approves.
I dip the oars again and begin to steer the boat around the perimeter. The glow intensifies in patches where clusters of fungus and moss thrive. My father once mentioned that these waterways wind through a series of interconnected caves, some filled with crystals as bright as the sun. I hope that once we reach them, their brilliance might help us find a safe path.
Just as I relax into a rhythm, a subtle ripple disturbs the surface of the lake. I freeze, lifting the oars. The water settles, and then another ripple appears, radiating outward from a point somewhere to my left. Rauta stands, iron joints creaking softly, and lowers his head, a low growl escaping his throat. My heart hammers.
Something is here.
A scent hits me—stale brine, decaying fish, a hint of sulfur. I pick up the sword and grip it tight, trying to pinpoint the direction of the disturbance. Then, I see it: a shadow beneath the water, sliding beneath the boat. I lean over instinctively, squinting, and regret it instantly when the shadow rises.
With a roar, a monstrous form heaves itself partially out of the water on the other side of the boat, enough for me to glimpse a cluster of eyes, bulbous and shining, set into a grotesque amalgamation of bone and shell that serves as a face. Tendrils of kelp hang from its scaled hide, and barnacle-like growths pockmark its body. It has to be an Old God—its presence is both ancient and unmistakably predatory.
And, frankly, disgusting.
“Rauta!” I shout, but the hound is already moving. He leaps onto the skinny prow, iron jaws snapping. The Old God’s eyes blink in eerie syncopation as a sinuous tentacle-like limb lashes out of the water. It slams into the boat’s side with a crack, sending it rocking violently. I yelp, nearly losing the sword overboard, and scramble for balance.
The creature’s mouth opens—not a normal mouth, but a vertical slit rimmed with serrated edges. It emits a sound that vibrates through my bones, and I grit my teeth, forcing myself not to freeze. We have to fight back, or else we’ll die here.
Rauta lunges, jaws clamping down on something that might be an appendage or a protruding spine. There’s a sick crunching sound as metal grinds bone. The Old God thrashes, whipping the water into a frenzy. Waves splash into the boat, soaking my trousers. I raise the sword, a determined growl escaping my throat.
I swing the blade down toward the creature’s closest limb, slicing through a fleshy tendril. The Old God shrieks, retracting into the water but not retreating. Instead, it circles beneath us, the boat spinning in its wake. My knuckles ache from gripping the sword, my body pathetically weak without the tips of my horns, and I hunch low to keep from being tossed overboard.
The hound turns, poised at the front. Without warning, the beast’s tail—if that’s what it is—breaks the surface behind us, crashing down. The boat lurches upward then slams down. I’m thrown forward, sword clattering against the hull. Pain radiates through my arm, but I scramble upright, heart pounding. Water sloshes around my ankles now, but I can’t tell if we’re sinking yet.
Then, Rauta decides to leap from the boat into the water.
“No!” I cry out as the dog disappears under the murky surface with a large splash. For one horrible, excruciating second, I think I’ve lost him.
Then, the Old God rears up, shrieking as bubbles erupt where Rauta attacks beneath the waves. The beast half-rises, revealing twisted limbs and a ridged carapace.