Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

HANNA

The God of Death stares back at me with what can only be described as hurt on his face. How have I hurt him? I just saved him and his land. Why isn’t he happy?

I look at those surrounding him. There’s a pretty girl with long, blonde hair, her face cut and bruised. I feel something inside me call to her, a hint of recognition. She must be Loviatar, Death’s daughter. I wonder what she means to me, for she stares at me in a similar way to her father. She too looks like I have betrayed her somehow.

I do not understand.

I look to the others. A young man with red hair gazes at me with a mix of awe and contempt—such an interesting combination of feelings, something to be wary of. There is also a tall, stately woman in black armor, her torn gown flowing like the sea. She comes across as a Goddess herself, and I figure she must be Vellamo. I have a brief memory of the two of us together before Mother Sun whisked me to my home. She didn’t want me to leave; she was worried, but what for?

Then, there is the man who said he is my father. It is looking at him, at his watery blue eyes lined with life, that I feel something in my chest, a pang where a heart should be. This man, I trust. I once felt love, innocent love, without conditions, and I felt it for him. He is the only one who doesn’t look hurt at my appearance; if anything, he looks relieved. I smile at him, hoping it comes across as sincere.

In the distance stand two others I recognize as Gods: an aging man with skin like bark and a long, bushy beard leaning against a wooden staff, alongside a girl with tangled red hair, tiny antlers springing from her head. They watch me warily, on guard.

“I mean you no harm,” I say to them, to everyone. “I have come to help.”

The God of Death holds out his hand for me, and I eye it. There’s something about this I have to be careful of, but I’m not sure what. It’s just his hand, gloved in leather.

I take it, and he squeezes it. I stare up at his formidable form, at the skull mask shoved up over his forehead, curling horns sprouting from the top, as if he has been fused with an animal. His hair is long and black, flowing over his shoulders, his beard ending in a small braid. His eyes are alive with many emotions, a dark silver that gleams against his brown skin, accentuated by lines of black kohl. The furry collar of his cloak is just low enough for me to spot shimmering veins of silver running over his neck, disappearing beneath.

He is handsome in the intimidating way only Gods are. Somewhere in my crystalline core, I feel a tremor of something for him. Is it emotion? It’s a curious feeling—perhaps not emotion, but a physical response. My blood seems to warm in my veins, becoming molten gold, my breath shaky. This God has an effect on me still.

“Hanna,” the God of Death says to me, his voice like roughened silk. “Do you know where you are?”

He squeezes my hand, as if that will help.

“I am at Castle Syntri,” I tell him, hoping he will be satisfied with my answer. “This was Louhi’s stronghold before she took over Shadow’s End.”

His gaze narrows slightly. “And you know who I am to you.”

“You are my partner,” I tell him. “The king to my queen.”

“I told you this could happen,” Vellamo whispers to Lovia.

I bring my eyes to her. “Told them what could happen?”

A flash of shame comes across the Sea Goddess’ face before she raises her chin proudly. “You are not the same Hanna I saw leave with P?iv?t?r. You have changed. The power of the sun has lessened your tie to humanity.”

I stare at her, wondering if I’m supposed to feel a certain way about that.

“I still have mortal links,” I counter. “My mother explained I might forget those I walked beside before, but I do remember you all. Slowly, you are being revealed; from a distance, but I do. I am unsure what it is you want from me, because you all stand around as if you were wanting someone different. For that, I’m sorry. I can’t be the Hanna I was, but that Hanna wouldn’t have been able to save you in the way I did. It is unfortunate there is such a trade.”

“We are grateful, dear daughter,” Torben, my father, says to me warmly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I am better than okay,” I tell him. “I am the prophecy, the one to unite the land.”

“The one to touch Death,” Tuoni says in a grave voice.

“Yes,” I say, giving him a small smile. “I remember now. I am the only one you can touch with your bare hands. I have now become the thing most needed to save Tuonela.”

There are a few murmurs in the crowd. There are many mortals here, soldiers, and they look relieved, far more than the Gods do. They know the odds have now turned in their favor.

Still, Vellamo’s words hang in the air like a shimmering veil of accusation. My tie to humanity has lessened? I think of what that means. Humanity: that messy, heated swirl of emotions, memories, vulnerabilities. I remember how, before Mother Sun took me, I was someone with feelings that burned like coals, sparking wild fires, often out of control. Now, I feel…refined, focused, powerful—and distant. Did I lose something vital in gaining so much strength?

I study their faces again. My supposed family and allies are a wounded, wary circle around me. Tuoni—my partner—still holds my hand, as if afraid I’ll slip away. Lovia, his daughter, watches me with bruised suspicion. Vellamo’s eyes glitter like the surface of a stormy sea. The red-haired young man—Rasmus, I think—regards me with wary awe, as if I might burst into flames at any moment. And at the edge of the courtyard, the Forest God and the antlered girl stand tense, as though expecting violence. There’s a brittle calm here, tension humming through the icy, broken spires of Castle Syntri.

I clear my throat. “I am still here to help. I remember enough to know Louhi must be stopped, that this realm hangs by a thread, and that we cannot afford to fail.”

“Alright,” Lovia says, coming over and taking my other hand in hers. She gives Tuoni a pointed look, and he reluctantly lets go of me. “We should get you settled. We have a lot of work to do around here and people to help, and you need… Well, you need clothes.”

I glance down. The gown I’m wearing is nothing more than gossamer, my body on full display. “What’s wrong with this?” I ask.

“You’re kind of naked,” she whispers.

I raise my brows, as if to say so what ? What kind of Gods have such an issue with nudity?

“Perhaps it would be good for you to get settled,” Tuoni says. “You are planning to stay, aren’t you?”

I meet his eyes. “That is my purpose.”

He makes a grumbling sound and then nods at Lovia.

She gently takes my hand and leads me down the dim castle hallways. It is only now I realize how loud it was outside with the cries of the wounded, the stench of the dead. I saved them, but I arrived too late.

“Well, I know that wasn’t the welcome you were expecting,” Lovia begins as we walk down the hall, past a couple weeping soldiers.

“I wasn’t expecting anything,” I interject.

“I see,” she says. We step around broken columns, walking past chunks of stone punched out from the roof above, snow falling inside. “Regardless, we’re all glad you’re here. I was worried you might never show. So was my father. He really, really missed you, even if he doesn’t show it.”

“Show it,” I echo, pontificating the words. “He shows more than you think. You humans think you must wear your feelings like a cloak, but it is there for everyone to see.”

“Humans?” she cries out with a snort. “I am not a human. I’m a god.”

I look her over—the fire and pain in her eyes, the set of her jaw. “You are more human than god. That is your weakness.”

“I don’t have a weakness,” she says sharply, letting out a grunt of annoyance. “Come on, let’s go to my mother’s chambers. She left an array of dresses behind.”

She leads me up a spiral staircase of shimmering onyx to another level. I look around with interest. This place is the opposite of the sun—dark and soulless. And yet, my memory tells me it’s new to me even still, that I’ve never been here before.

Lovia takes me into a cavernous room with a couple of torn chairs, their guts pouring out of them, and a bathtub in the corner. She leads me over to a wide bed with a black bedspread. One of the windows is broken, snow blowing inside. I sit on the edge of the bed while she starts rummaging through a wardrobe in the corner.

Suddenly, I am hit with a memory. I may have not been here before, but I have done this with Loviatar. My mind skips back, like looking over photographs or a reel of film, still more objects from a previous life.

And then, it stops on a specific scene.

I remember when I was first brought to Shadow’s End.

I had traded my life for my father’s.

I had promised to become Death’s bride.

I had been brought to his stronghold, placed in my own room, prisoner but not a prisoner, and Lovia had been kind enough to dress me so I looked good for her father, for the dinner.

I knew I immediately liked her, even as other memories roll in—how I kicked her off the boat in the River of Shadows and stole her sword while battling some swans. The swans were akin to a goddess like myself, and I feel a flash of shame that I killed one of them as a mortal.

“Here,” Lovia says, turning around with a black gown in her hands. Tiny beetles scurry off the fabric and onto the stone floor, running for a hole in the wall. “Uh, ignore the bugs.”

I take the dress from her, staring down at it.

“I know you’re pretty tall for a human…” she begins, and I give her a sharp look. “Ex-human?” she stammers. “Either way, it’s still your body and you’re tall. But my mother was taller, bigger all around. You know, muscle. Not that you aren’t muscular; you really do look like you work out. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is it might be too big and too long, but we can always make it work with some sashes and a pair of scissors.”

I stare at her, all the memories flooding back. I feel like I’m watching a movie in which I care about the characters, but because it’s not happening to me, I’m indifferent.

“You don’t like the dress?” Lovia asks, her brows knitting together.

“I think the Hanna I was would appreciate it,” I admit, running my fingers over the fabric. “I am remembering how we were. The two of us. When you took care of me at Shadow’s End.”

Her eyes widen with excitement. “So you do remember!”

“I do. Not everything—just pieces.”

“Well, that’s great. That means you haven’t lost your humanity.”

I look down at my hands. On the sun, they had strange runes on them, but here, they look normal. “I remember, but I do not feel.”

She tilts her head, bright eyes studying me. “Do you want to feel?”

“Perhaps,” I tell her. Then, I sigh; everything feels heavier now, so much more than it did when I first arrived and set about fulfilling my purpose. “But won’t that make me lose my gifts? That is why I’m here. I’m not here to be a wife or a mother-in-law or a friend. I’m here to help you win. Feelings seem like a complication we can’t afford. I am probably better off without them.”

She makes an unsatisfied noise with her mouth. “Well, for now, at least you remember. That’s a start. Why don’t we get you dressed, and then perhaps we can use your logic and distance to help me and my father formulate our attack. There is more than one way you can help us win our battles.”

I nod and stand up. The gossamer veil I was wearing instantly disintegrates as Lovia makes me step into the inky gown. It is a little loose and too long, but Lovia makes quick work of it by wrapping sashes around my waist to pull the dress in before taking scissors and cutting off the bottom so it comes to my ankles in jagged edges.

“I might as well have a bath,” she says. “I’ll need a clean dress to wear after, for this little respite before we have to fight again. Do you want me to draw you one?”

“I don’t need it,” I say. I’m still purified by the sun.

“Suit yourself,” she says, going back to the wardrobe. More insects scurry out of the way.

“You and your mother were not close,” I say in both a memory and observation.

She tenses for a moment. “No. We certainly weren’t.”

“You did live here briefly.”

“I did, back when my parents first split.”

“And now, your mother is the one responsible for bringing all of the realm to its demise. That must be very complicated for you.”

She exhales heavily, her fingers grasping one of the dresses, a blackish blue. “It is, but it’s also helpful to not think of her as my mother. It’s better for me to think of her as Louhi.”

“You worry about how much of her is in you. You worry what she thinks of you. You worry that, in the end, you won’t matter to her at all, that maybe you never did.”

She turns around and gives me a tired look.

“You worry too much,” I finish. “What good has worrying ever done?”

The corner of her lip curls up. “Oh, if only the old you could hear you now.”

“She worried a lot?” Hanna already feels like someone else, a human I was once close to instead of myself.

“Like it was an addiction,” she says with a laugh.

“She musn’t have been very happy.”

Lovia stops laughing, her gaze turning soft. “Actually, I think she was.”