Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

DEATH

The night is dark.

I’m now standing in the cavernous hall where Louhi must have strategized her attack on my world. It’s strange how a place can hold echoes of another’s presence even after they’re gone. Louhi once paced these floors, plotting and smirking and planning my demise. Now, I’m about to use the very space where she schemed against me to plot her downfall. It’s fitting in a way, but it doesn’t feel victorious. It feels desperate, as if I’m only here out of sheer necessity, which is the cold, hard truth.

The hall is constructed of obsidian and volcanic ash, the walls carved with old runes and sigils I can’t bring myself to read right now. Columns rise like inky trunks in a moonlit forest, and strange banners—left behind by Louhi or her minions—hang limp in the still air. The torchlight flickers, shadows dance, and the people I’ve gathered stand in an uneasy semicircle before me. They look at me expectantly as I pace behind the large, ironwood desk, maps strewn about the surface Torben had found in the cellar.

In the middle of the group, on the other side of the desk, stands Lovia. She looks strong, fierce, defiant. I’m glad she’s here—I need her strength, her fire. Still, it shames me that I have to rely on my own child in this madness. She has proven herself countless times, I know, but I still feel guilty that I’ve allowed the world to come to this point. I was supposed to protect all of them: my children, my people, my allies. The despair that gnaws at me is relentless. I swallow it down. I cannot show it. Gods must be unshakable, must they not?

And yet, I’ve already shown too much. My pain over Ahto. My rage at Rasmus. The humble pie the Magician forced me to eat when he wielded magic stronger than a God’s.

Missteps, pitfalls, I tell myself. A glimpse at weakness. You must return to being the all-powerful leader they need.

Behind Lovia are the other Gods: Tapio, Tellervo, and Vellamo. Tapio, the Forest God, once proud and brimming with quiet strength, is now hollow with grief. The loss of his wife and their son has left him raw; I can feel his pain like an open wound in the air. Vellamo, my sister-in-law, stands next to him, her own loss just as palpable.

Because it’s my loss too.

The Magician lurks near a column, galaxies swirling beneath his hood. I know he sees more than the rest of us. He probably knows how this might end. His refusal to share what he knows unsettles me, but I cannot press him. I can’t afford to alienate an ally, even an ambiguous one. Still, I hate that helpless feeling, the idea that I must accept riddles when I crave certainty. More than that, I hate that he has magic that makes me appear weak and that he’s in charge of when he uses it. I can only hope he does remain our ally; I would hate to see what might happen if he were to suddenly switch sides.

Rasmus and Ilmarinen linger nearby; I’ve ordered the generals and a few troops to watch them at all times. The Magician might have faith that Rasmus has a part to play, but I have no doubt that son of a bitch will try to usurp us the first chance he gets. Lovia has explained why they brought him, but he’s as trustworthy as a viper in a cradle.

As for Ilmarinen, the shaman is weak, and he speaks poorly of Louhi, but he reminds me too much of Rasmus. Louhi’s influence runs deep, and I would be a fool to put all my trust into him just because he suffered at her hands for decades. I know how insidious her ways are, how they can lodge inside you and manifest. We might need Ilmarinen while we’re here, but I won’t put my full trust in him yet, not when Louhi’s magic might still linger.

The generals shift their weight uneasily, representing the hundreds of troops out in the cold flanked around the castle. They know war on mortal terms, but this is a conflict waged on spiritual, magical, and metaphysical fronts. They glance at me with expectation, trying to find in my eyes the certainty they lack. I realize, with a pang, that everyone here looks to me. Tuonela is my realm; I am its God, its King. If I fail, what hope is there?

I draw a slow breath and begin, forcing my voice to remain steady and calm. “We have little time,” I say, the words echoing softly in the hall. “Louhi and Rangaista hold Shadow’s End. They command the Bone Stragglers, my own armies, and Old Gods who were supposed to be sleeping. We know that, at some point, my son, Tuonen, and my loyal servant, Sarvi, were with them, but their whereabouts are now unknown. We also know Louhi has taken control of my magicked double, my shadow self, and that Salainen, another pawn of Louhi’s and Hanna’s half-sister, is pretending to be the queen herself.”

At the mention of Salainen, Torben sucks in a breath. For a second, I consider glaring at him, since both Salainen and Rasmus are his fault, but he also brought me Hanna, and for that, I have to be grateful. Besides, I know the man feels shame. I’ve spent more than enough time with him now to see how deep it runs in his bones.

I clear my throat and go on. “The City of Death has fallen. Inmost has spread to the other layers. There is no order in the afterlife, only Kaaos. This has always been Louhi’s final goal, perhaps put in place by her father, the Demon God Rangaista, before she was even born. But now that she has succeeded in getting what she wants, we must figure out both what her next steps are and how we can defeat her and the Old Gods and bring Tuonela back.”

“We need a list of our allies,” Lovia chimes in. “Who else is there to help us? We could send scouts to find and bring them back here, maybe.”

“Very well. So, who else is there?” I ask the room.

“Hanna,” Torben says.

“We cannot rely on Hanna’s return,” Tapio argues.

I give Tapio a sharp look. “We can and we must. Mark my word, she is coming back.”

After learning Hanna is on the sun with P?iv?t?r, her mother, I have to admit, I’ve been more nervous than relieved. Her mother is a different breed of God. She and her sister, Kuutar, have always been distant and indifferent to our struggles, which is why what Vellamo told me was a surprise. I didn’t think P?iv?t?r would care enough to give Hanna her powers, but I suppose she must have some stake in our world after all.

Still, I don’t know the Sun Goddess like I do the ones of this realm. I worry she might inadvertently hurt Hanna in some way, particularly with Hanna still being mostly mortal. I know she can handle anything thrown her way—she has proven that time and time again—and yet, I can’t imagine how she might feel in the realm of the sun, being so far away from everything she’s ever known.

Then again, she might be thriving, wielding her powers and testing out her golden wings. She never ceases to surprise me, my little bird.

“There are the trolls,” Tellervo suggests. “Vellamo was going to find them.”

“The Keskelli,” I muse. “Yes, I suppose they could be of help if they are still alive. I haven’t seen any in a very long time.”

“There are also my mermaids and the sea serpents,” Vellamo says.

“They will come in handy, especially around the waters of Shadow’s End,” I tell her.

“Speaking of Hanna, P?iv?t?r and Kuutar might be of help,” Tapio says.

“I wouldn’t count on them. And even though Hanna will return, I wouldn’t count on her either,” I muse. “Oh, Hanna will fight by our side, but I don’t want to leave things to chance when it comes to any newfound power.”

“What about your sister?” Vellamo asks me.

“Ilmatar?” I say with a sigh. The Goddess of the Air is as flakey as her name. “Perhaps. We’ll see.”

“Auringotar?” Tapio asks.

“Another one who won’t bother with our realm.”

“Akka? Ukko?” suggests Lovia.

I let out a caustic snort. “My parents have pretended we don’t exist for a very long time. They’re off in some other dimension, most likely watching this like some reality TV show.”

“Reality TV show?” Tellervo repeats, confused.

“Then Vipunen,” Lovia suggests. “The giant is the one who practically raised you.”

I nod, running my hand over my beard. “Yes, I have thought about Vipunen many times. But he’s no better than the Magician over here when it comes to knowing how things will go and standing back and letting it happen.”

“I’m still here,” the Magician says quietly. “If I truly just let things happen, I wouldn’t have stopped you from killing Rasmus.”

“Then tell me, oh wise one,” I say bitterly. “Who are our allies? Can we depend on Vipunen?”

The Magician stares at me for a moment. The room hums with such silence that when Tellervo coughs, it sounds like a gunshot.

“We must try to find Vipunen,” he eventually says, “when the time is right.”

“And you’ll be the one to tell us, huh?” Torben says wryly.

“I will,” he says flatly. “But you’ll also know yourself.”

I shake my head, annoyed again. “Fine. So there are our allies. Are they, plus everyone here and a thousand troops, enough to fight against everything between the Star Swamp and Shadow’s End?”

Silence again.

Then, the Magician says, “It’s a start.”

“Oh, fuck off with that,” I tell him. I run my hands down my face and sigh. “All right. So we gather our allies when we can. Then, we must plan our attack. We head for Shadow’s End.”

A general raises his hand. “My lord, we could go back through the portal and rally more troops from the Upper World. Gather them here at Synti Castle?—”

I shake my head. “No,” I say firmly. “The portal would require a shaman to go with you, to ensure it is open for your return, and I can’t spare any of them. We have to make do with the troops we have. Besides, drawing too many soldiers here would give away our position. We must stay hidden if we expect to survive this, at least for now.”

I don’t add that any more mortals brought here would only compound my guilt at having dragged them into this mess against their will.

General Pekka, who has been studying a faded map of Tuonela in his hands, speaks up. “Shadow’s End is heavily fortified. Seems the only way in is through Death’s Passage. We might be sitting ducks.”

“It’s not the only way in. We can go by sea as well.”

“And there’s the underground cave system,” Lovia says. “There are access points all along the realm.”

“You’re correct,” I tell her. “But I would approach that with caution. It would be a terrible place to get stuck.”

I look around, hoping for more input, but all I see is uncertainty in their eyes and feel the pressure mounting behind my ribs. I wish I had all the answers.

“We must know their weaknesses,” Vellamo says. “Their strength is not just in soldiers, or the savagery of the Old Gods, but in twisted magic.”

“Ley lines,” Torben muses. “This world has them, as does the world above, right?”

“There are ley lines here,” I say slowly. “But to be honest, I’ve never paid them much attention. I know in the Upper World, they are conduits for magic, but here, everything is a conduit. They aren’t anything special.”

“Except Louhi knew where they were,” Rasmus says.

My gaze snaps to his, and I’m tempted to tell him to shut up.

“What do you mean?” Lovia asks.

“ I mean Louhi knew where the ley lines were,” Rasmus says. “There’s a map here somewhere of them.” He looks around. “Or, I don’t know, she probably took it with her, but she said the ley lines were important. It’s where the Old Gods would rise from the ground.”

I narrow my eyes at him, not wanting to believe a word he’s saying.

“He’s right,” Ilmarinen says, his voice raw and barely audible. “Her magic opened the ley lines. They were a conduit she corrupted.”

“Okay, so Rasmus just proved his worth,” I say to the Magician. “Now can I kill him?”

General Pekka snorts. At least someone here thinks I’m funny, though I wasn’t really joking.

Torben nods thoughtfully. “Perhaps if we restore order to the ley lines, their monstrosities weaken.”

“I can forge a device, the sampo, to stabilize the ley lines,” Ilmarinen says. “If we combine that with the power of three shamans, we might be able to at least put the Old Gods back in their place.”

“And this device you speak of,” Lovia says, “how long would that take?”

“A week,” Ilmarinen says. “Perhaps.”

“We don’t have a week,” I practically growl. “We’ll be found out by then, and Louhi will bring her army to us. We won’t have the element of surprise.”

“Maybe I can do it,” Torben says.

“I was once a skilled blacksmith before I was brought to this wretched land,” Ilmarinen tells him. “No offense, but you don’t have what it takes to forge the sampo. I would be quicker, but my strength has been drained along with my magic.”

“Let’s call this plan B, then,” I say. “If you can get it done sooner, then great.” I look to everyone else. “What else do we got in terms of ideas?”

“When we attack, I can redirect the waterways, flood certain valleys,” Vellamo says. “If we channel them into narrow routes, our enemies may be forced into traps.”

“Skeletons don’t drown,” Lovia points out.

“No,” Vellamo says patiently, “but where water goes, so do my serpents. They will tear them all apart.”

I nod again. “Good,” I say, voice quieter now. Every promise of help is a candle in the darkness. “Torben, can you erect wards to protect key positions?”

He sets his jaw and nods. “Temporarily, but I’ll try.” He glances at Rasmus. “If I have help, even better.”

Rasmus nods, looking determined. I still don’t trust him, though.

Vellamo straightens, trying to show resolve. “We’ve lost much. We will not lose more without a fight. I’ll see to that.”

Tapio murmurs agreement, though he looks as if his heart is ashes. “The forest is under my domain, but only when I’m in it. Still, I do have a connection to the animals of the land. We can use them as scouts, birds especially. And Tellervo’s green magic can control plants anywhere in the realm.”

“Then that’s a start,” I tell them by way of dismissal.

The generals begin murmuring amongst themselves, exchanging tactical ideas: ambushes, scouting missions, coded messages. Torben, Ilmarinen, and Rasmus move to a corner, whispering about stabilizing energy currents and forging anchors. Lovia stands near me, her eyes still bright with impatience, but I see the way her hand tightens on her sword hilt.

“I want you to be my general, Lovia,” I say to her. I shoot General Pekka a wry glance. “Sorry, mortal, you’ve been bumped a spot. You’ll now answer to Loviatar.”

I swear, I see a hint of disappointment in his eyes. Perhaps I’m not controlling him as much as I thought.

No offense , I put the thought in his mind. You’re doing a good job .

He relaxes slightly, but my daughter’s mouth is agape. “General? Are you sure?”

“I have no doubt,” I tell her.

She raises her chin at that. “I won’t let you down.”

“You better not,” I say under my breath, to which she laughs.

I laugh too, even though it rings hollow.

I catch a reflection of myself in a polished shield mounted on the wall. I look older somehow, wearier. Grief and guilt have carved out my cheeks, made my eyes darker, like an old silver coin. I must not let them see me falter. I force my posture straight, my shoulders square. I am Death. They look to me as their king, and a king I must be.

I dismiss the meeting with a nod, and the assembly breaks apart. The generals hurry off, eager to begin preparations and to consort with the troops, many of whom are taking shifts getting warmth and shuteye in the rooms of the east wing.

Rasmus stands uncertainly until guards nudge him along. Ilmarinen follows, guarded closely, led to their own rooms for potential traitors. Tapio, Tellervo, and Vellamo linger at a window, heads bowed, speaking softly of routes and weather, grief heavy in their voices. Lovia gives me one last look, one of gratitude, and then strides away after the Magician.

I slip through a side corridor, my footsteps echoing softly. Torches sputter, casting trembling light on pale banners adorned with wings and ram horns, Louhi’s crest and emblem. Synti Castle is foreign to me, a place I never intended to use as a command center, but we are refugees in our own realm now, forced into corners we never imagined. My mind churns with strategies, half-formed plans, desperate hopes. I feel the weight of this looming war pressing down on me like a heavy mantle.

I step onto a narrow balcony high above the Star Swamp. Night drapes the world in quiet darkness, the swamp a blanket of white. A hush has settled over the landscape, the only sound the gently falling snow. Far beyond the swamp lies the Hiisi Forest, still reeling from the horrors that happened there. Beyond that, distant mountains rise as jagged silhouettes against pale skies, barely visible even to my far-reaching eyes. Shadow’s End waits beyond those peaks, my former stronghold, now Louhi’s lair.

My throat tightens; that was my domain, my seat of power. To think that my enemies roam its halls—her laughter echoing where once my quiet rule held sway—is enraging. But I must not give in to blind fury. I must remain calm, controlled, even when all I want to do is exact my revenge and make it rain blood.

I press my palms against the balcony’s stone rail. I remember Ahto’s laughter, how he guided the seas of Tuonela, how we would discuss the nature of existence over cups of bitter elixir he procured from clams and seagrass. He never liked the sweetvine wines. Now, he’s dead, and I bear that failure like a scar. I was supposed to protect this realm, maintain balance. Instead, Kaaos reigns.

I worry about Hanna. Is she becoming something more, someone capable of aiding us? Or will she remain absent, lost to the realm of light, never to return? I can’t depend on her, and it hurts me to the core to admit that. I know I said she would return, but I have been wrong before. I’m not sure what I would do if I was.

A flutter of wings startles me, and I glance to my left, surprised to see a small white bird land on the balcony rail. My breath catches. This bird is no random creature—it’s my snowbird, now out of its cage. I thought the damn thing hated me, yet here it is, feathers pure as snow, head cocked, regarding me with bright, curious eyes.

The bird hops closer, as if testing my reaction. Slowly, I extend a hand. It eyes me then takes a small leap and settles on my hand before it flaps up to my shoulder, its tiny claws gentle against my cloak. I stand utterly still, stunned.

In its presence, something in my chest loosens. The snowbird is a sign, is it not? That hope is not lost? That I still have a hold on this land that’s supposed to be mine? I feel my eyes sting with emotion I shouldn’t show, but here, in the dark, I do.

I close my eyes, focusing on the bird’s soft breathing. For a moment, I let myself feel all the sorrow, the guilt, the worry. I let it rise and then settle. I am the God of Death and King of the Underworld. I have endured eons before, and I can endure this too. I must. My people need me. Lovia looks to me with defiance and loyalty. Tapio, Tellervo, and Vellamo grieve but have not yielded. Torben, the Magician, the generals, even Rasmus and Ilmarinen—all pieces on a board I must arrange.

When I open my eyes again, I survey the land spread beneath the starlight.

My land.

I lift my chin. The bird remains on my shoulder in silent support. I will not fail. I will form a plan, strike at their weaknesses, and reclaim my throne. If I have to forge uneasy alliances, so be it. If I must fight without Hanna, I will. My remorse and guilt do not vanish, but they harden into resolve. I may be humbled, grieving, and unsure, but I am still a God. This is my realm. I will not let them extinguish the light of what we have built here.

All of humanity depends on it.

And I refuse to let them down.

I will turn helplessness into strength, guilt into purpose. Let the enemy prepare; let the Old Gods prowl.

We will take Tuonela back.

The snowbird shifts, and I smile grimly into the darkness.

They will learn to fear Death again.