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)
I pull her into a gentle embrace. She rests her head on my shoulder. “We don’t need a blazing sun,” I say softly. “Just your presence, your guidance, your heart. We will find another way. I want you beside me, alive, remembering who you are, rather than wielding power that costs us your soul. Besides, I’ve seen you fight. You’re, as they say in your world, a badass."
She nods against my chest, relaxing into me. “I don’t feel very badass anymore.” She sighs. “All those MMA lessons I took made me feel powerful once upon a time, but now that I know what having true divine power is like? I’ve gone from Conner McGregor to, like, I don’t know… Someone who weaseled their way in, like Logan Paul.”
I don’t bother telling her I don’t know who those men are, but I hold her until her breathing steadies. Outside, the castle resonates with quiet urgency—footsteps rushing through halls, the clank of armor being readied, frantic whispers of what to do. The walls still bear scars from the battle, scorches where Old Gods screamed, fractures where horrors tried to climb. The memory of that violence weighs heavily, but we must move past it. The future lies beyond these wretched stones.
Eventually, we step apart and follow the others. We spend the afternoon in grim preparation—gathering what food remains, stocking weapons, organizing squads. I check on the wounded; some can walk with support while others must be carried on makeshift stretchers. The Keskellis offer to carry them, but the truth is, none of the wounded can go with us. They’ll slow us down and probably die in the process.
“We need to leave them behind,” I tell Lovia. Her face falls, but she nods, because she knows it must be done. “Go get Torben and have him open a portal to the other side. It’s their best shot. If we leave them here, they will die without anyone to look after them. At least once they pass into the Upper World, they’ll regain agency. I can’t say what they’ll remember, but they won’t be able to return here. They’ll be safe. They’ll find the trucks they abandoned in the forest. They’ll be able to get to the nearest hospital. We’ll send a few of their medics along with them, just in case, and keep a few for ourselves.”
At that, my daughter scurries off to find Torben. I feel bad about sending them back and having them fend for themselves in the middle of nowhere, but it’s the best thing for them, the only chance they get. I make a silent vow to uphold my promise, to offer them seats at the table when they pass. If I can give them all the most peaceful deaths in their golden years, then that’s even better. May they all die on the beach, old and grey, Mai Tais in their hands.
With Torben creating a portal, the troops guided by Lovia and some of the generals, Tapio and Tellervo confer with Rasmus about how best to coordinate signs—bird calls, flashes of foxfire—to guide us in the dark. Vellamo selects a handful of sailors from among our troops and plots a course to a dock in the Great Inland Sea that has a few boats we can push through the waterways.
I find Ilmarinen hunched over a small metal contraption in a side room. The sampo’s main component—two intricately etched metal spheres that grind against each other—sits in Ilmarinen’s lap as he polishes runes on its surface. It looks strange and fragile for something so crucial. If it works, we can restore the land’s balance along the ley lines. If it fails…well, we’ll find another way.
Night approaches faster than I’d like, the sky dimming to a pale gray. The snow outside glows faintly in the twilight. Gunmen line the walls one last time, scanning the horizon, making sure the enemy hasn’t returned prematurely. The wind howls softly, as if mourning our departure from these half-broken walls that sheltered us for a time.
In the great hall, I give quiet orders: torches doused, everyone ready to move at my signal. Soldiers stand in clusters, whispering farewells to the castle. They had gathered by the portal earlier, saying goodbye to their wounded brethren as they disappeared into the Upper World.
We take what we can: food, medicine, weapons. The Keskellis kneel, allowing supply packs to be strapped to their backs. Mieli and Tenko prepare to follow Vellamo across the star swamp to the west, Torben freezing the swamp over once more for good measure. I break my façade and pull Vellamo into an embrace, making her promise to meet us on the other side of the forest. My sister-in-law gives me a warm smile and says she will do her best.
Then, she and her chosen band slip away to the sea route, two giant trolls padding silently beside them, as if creatures of myth stepping into a forgotten saga. We watch them vanish into a drift of snow and night air. I already lost Ahto; I hope to the Creator I don’t lose her too.