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)
Now he’s the one I want to kill.
I bare my teeth at him, hating how I feel like a caged animal.
“This is part of it, Tuoni,” the Magician says. “You’ll understand it later.”
I groan, trying once more to move, but it’s futile.
And now, I’m painfully aware of everyone watching me. They’ve all seen the God of Death bested by the Magician. Why is he here? What is his purpose in all of this?
Finally, I sigh heavily and concede.
I move to drop my hand, and it falls easily to my side.
Rasmus is still staring at me, breathing hard through his nose, wide-eyed and shell-shocked. He knows how close he came to death, at least. For a second, I think about having another go at it, but I decide the Magician probably has a failsafe, some force protecting the ginger fucker.
Never trust a redhead—doesn’t the Magician know that?
I grumble and turn away, giving Torben a hard look.
“He’s your problem now,” I mutter. “Make sure to keep him out of my sight.”
Torben doesn’t look happy about it either, but he nods.
“So your magic can overpower a God?” Lovia says to the Magician, a tremor of hurt in her voice. “How come you didn’t do that earlier?”
The Magician folds his hands in front of him. “Because I only do what I can do when I can do it.”
“That makes no sense.” General Pekka speaks up.
“Never mind him or any of them,” I tell the general before I address the rest of the troops. “You all heard the Magician. No one touches the redhead. No one harms anyone else, for that matter, or you will answer to me, and no one will be there to save you. Now, let’s start making this a fortress and figure out our next steps.”
Even if I can’t have Louhi’s son, I’ll get my revenge somehow.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
TUONEN
“Do you remember the rules?” the giant’s voice comes booming toward me from down the tunnel.
“Frankly, I don’t remember much of anything right now,” I admit. It feels like I’ve been walking through this cave system all day; my bones are weary. I don’t dare complain to Vipunen, though. He’d merely laugh, so utterly unaffected by it all.
Must be nice, I think.
Even Rauta has lost his earlier spark and vigor, padding silently beside me, sniffing the air occasionally.
“The most important rule of all, Tuonen,” Vipunen chides me. “Come now, you didn’t spend your youth training with me to not remember.”
Right. The training. All those years with the blind mask and the sword, and for what? For me to be captured so easily, and by my own damned mother? Though I suppose some of it must have come in handy when I defeated that tentacle thing.
“I can’t look at you,” I affirm. “But I left my blind mask at home. You wouldn’t have a spare, would you?”
Vipunen chuckles, making the crystals on the tunnel walls chime. “I will stay hidden. Your sight will be safe from my true form, and you and Rauta will be safe under the mountain until you are ready to fight again.”
“Well, am I getting there anytime soon?” I say, wincing at how whiny I sound.
“Patience is a virtue,” he says, “even in such urgent times as these. Perhaps especially so.”
I ignore that. Virtues are overrated. I’m not that kind of God.
We walk on, my footsteps echoing in the silence, accompanied by the soft scrape of Rauta’s claws on stone. The tunnel widens and the light changes—faint glimmers catch on mineral veins in the walls, sending subtle rainbows dancing over the rock. Though Vipunen promised I wouldn’t need a blindfold, I’m still wary about how much I might see. He said he would stay hidden, and I trust him not to break that rule. Still, I can’t help but feel uneasy, remembering the old lessons, the emphasis on not beholding his true form.
Eventually, we emerge into a broad cavern, and my shoulders relax as the space opens around us. Rauta lifts his head, ears perking up at some distant drip of water. The air is warmer here, the darkness not so absolute. I can see faint patterns in the stone, subtle shifts of color and texture. It’s quiet. Peaceful, even. A far cry from the chaos outside.
“Tuonen,” Vipunen’s voice resonates, not loud now, but steady and calm. I cannot pinpoint its source—he might be above, below, behind any of these shimmering walls. Just as he promised, I see no giant figure looming in the darkness, only diffused light that seems to seep out of cracks and crevices, as if the very stone were alive with his presence. It reminds me of being young and blindfolded, relying on other senses. But now, my eyes are open, even if I cannot fully understand what they see.
Rauta pads closer to my leg, nudging me with a gentle prod. I rest my hand on the dog’s metal skull and feel warmth radiating from him—a comfort in this strange domain. We are far under the mountain now—safe, as Vipunen said, but safe for how long, I don’t know.