Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

LOVIA

“We’ll camp here for the night,” my father announces, his voice fraught with the weight of our journey. We’ve been walking all day after the battle in the Hiisi Forest, crossing the Liekkio Plains without much fanfare. I waited for those terrible, flaming ankle-biters to appear and swarm us, but they didn’t. I have to wonder if the Magician destroyed them all for good when we encountered them last.

Now, the last light of the sky bleeds behind thin clouds that threaten rain and snow that never comes. We’re just past the Gorge of Despair, the canyon in our wake, taking shelter on a plateau rimmed with windblown trees and brush, giving us cover while also providing an uninterrupted view of the land around us. Unless Louhi has more unicorns up her sleeve to attack us from the air, we’ll be safe here.

I pick up my tent and head into the brush, away from the rest of the camp but still close enough. I feel like keeping to myself tonight and being alone with my thoughts. From the hushed silence, I can tell everyone else feels the same way.

“Need any help?” the Magician asks me, hanging around a straggly pine.

I roll the tent out and up before I get down on my knees to stake it. “I can manage.”

“I know you can manage,” he says, “but help is being offered if you want it.”

I can’t help but laugh, even if it rings a bit hollow. “You certainly have a way about you, don’t you?”

“Is it a way that you like?” he asks.

I hammer down the last stake into the hard ground before I get up and dust my hands off. I stare into the void of his face, wondering what his deal is. “Did you really come here to help me?”

He nods, gliding across the forest floor toward me. “I did.” He stops a foot away and extends his velvety black hand, reaching out to cup my face. I briefly close my eyes at his touch, melting against his palm, cool but strong. I’ve needed this contact more than I care to admit.

“I want to understand you, Loviatar. I want to know what your heart feels like, what your soul feels like. I want to know what it’s like to be more human than I am.”

I swallow uneasily, not sure what he’s talking about. “Okay…”

“This is important,” he says, his voice slipping from its usual melodic cadence and taking on a sense of urgency. “It’s important to me and to you.” He pauses, his thumb running over my lips. It smells like rain. “Haven’t you wondered what it’s like to become one with the universe?”

My heart skips a beat, heat tightening my skin. “Yes,” I whisper, even though I’ve never wondered that. However, now I am.

“Good,” he says. He nods at the tent, his hand falling away, leaving my skin feeling bereft. “Now, go inside that tent and wait for me. I’ll appear at nightfall. Try not to fall asleep.”

“No promises,” I tell him, though my voice trembles with nerves. I watch as he turns and walks back between the trees, disappearing from view.

What in the realm was that all about?

Wait for him? In the tent?

Become one with the universe?

My brain is starting to go wild. He can’t possibly mean what I think he means, can he?

So, I stand there for a few minutes, staring at the trees. Night falls slowly, the light beyond the canopy still grey. Around the edges of the plateau, a few troops patrol in a single file, but they don’t pay me much attention. Further inward, soft chatter and the crackle of flames drift from the camp.

Eventually, I start to feel the tiredness seep into my bones. It has been a long day, having woken in the middle of the night when the wards failed, battled, and then walked all the way here. I’ve seen too much death, including a God whom I liked very much, whose lost spirit I still mourn.

I crawl into the tent before night falls, and even though I’m supposed to stay awake, I promptly fall asleep, my body too exhausted to hold on.

My sleep is deep and sound until…

“Loviatar,” a voice whispers. It belongs to the Magician, but I’m hearing it as if he’s speaking from inside me. “Open your eyes.”

I open my eyes to darkness, but it’s not the dark of the tent. It’s black and it stretches on forever. I raise my hand, expecting to reach the sides of the canvas, but there’s nothing there.

“Hello?” I say, slowly sitting up. The darkness hums, and light slowly emerges in pinpricks, looking very far away. Too far away to be inside the tent.

Panic claws up my throat. Where the fuck am I?

“Don’t be alarmed,” the Magician’s voice said, sounding from all around me in echoes. “Everything is as it should be. Just relax.”

“Relax for what?” I say, feeling around me, only to find nothing but inky darkness and sparkling stars. “Where am I? What’s happening?”

“You’re with me,” he says. “Just lie back and open yourself. Let me take care of everything.”

“Wait.” I feel around me with my hands, and that’s when I realize I’m not wearing any clothes. “I’m naked. Why am I naked?”

What the fuck is happening?

Silence stretches on before he says, “I can put your clothes back on if you’d like.”

“You took them off? You undressed me?”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, Lovia. I have seen everything and all. But no, I didn’t physically remove them. I just made them no longer exist. You are in a place where articles like those don’t matter. All that matters is you. You don’t even need a body, but it’s better to experience it with one.”

“Experience what?” I cry out.

“Our union,” he says. “That is what you’ve wanted from me, isn’t it?”

I swallow hard, my heart drumming a beat against my ribs. “I—I don’t know.”

“If it isn’t, then you can tell me. I can end this.”

“No,” I say quietly. “I just… Are you talking sex?”

“I’m talking a union of unearthly delight for you.”

Well, that sounds like it could be sex.

“You have an awfully high opinion of yourself,” I mutter.

“As I should,” he goes on.

“Alright.” I clear my throat, my curiosity getting the best of me. “If that’s what I get out of it, what do you?”

“I told you before—it’s important for me. Being inside you, wholly and completely, will let me feel what it’s like to be you. You will give me my much-needed humanity.”

“You sound like Hanna,” I comment.

“We aren’t too dissimilar,” he says. “But I am searching for something that will help me in the end. You have morals, Lovia. You are a great judge of character.”

“So are you. You’ve been the real judge, the one dealing the cards to the newly dead all this time.”

“It’s not the same. There is no love in that. You hold love, Lovia. I want to know what that feels like.”

But I don’t know if I love you , I think to myself. Can you love the universe?

“It’s not about loving me,” he says, reading my thoughts. “It’s about love. You are love. I must know what it tastes like. I want to hold your humanity in each and every star.”

“And it helps me how?”

“As I said…”

“Right. The union of unearthly delight.”

Silence falls between us again while I think it over.

Honestly, at this point, I’m so exhausted, my heart so heavy from grief, my mind so fraught with worry over what’s to come, that spending some time with the Magician in this way might be the distraction I need.

“Alright,” I whisper. “How do I do this?”

“Like this,” he says, and, suddenly, his voice is right in front of me.

I feel his hands on my face as his petrichor scent fills my nose, blossoming inside me before he presses his lips to mine.

Like the kiss before, it envelopes me like a cloud, my breath trembling as his tongue sweeps against mine. Desire rockets to my core, butterflies unleashed in my belly, and I reach for him, surprised when it makes contact with his form.

I open my eyes, and I can’t see him at all. It’s all just an endless black void speckled with stars and the occasional galaxy that flies past, but I can feel him. My fingers dig into his strong shoulders, run down the muscled length of his arms, down across his rigid abs.

What is happening ? I think. Is this what he really feels like or what I want him to feel like?

“I’m arranging myself for you, to be what you want, to be what fits you best,” he says, his voice now a whispered echo in the dark. “Does it please you?”

I can’t help but laugh, staring into the infinite universe as my hands go lower until they feel what can only be his cock. I gasp at the feel of it, hard, long, and cool, reveling in the detail.

“Does that feel good?” I whisper, suddenly overpowered by the need for him to feel good. My ego craves the idea of being the one to make the universe see stars in a truly different way.

“It feels good to me because it feels good to you. Now, lie back.”

I feel his hands around me, pushing me back to the ground.

Except, there is no ground.

There is nothing behind me.

I am floating in space.

And his lips are on me, everywhere. Not just my mouth, but my neck and my breasts and my stomach and between my thighs. He’s everywhere all at once, like I’m being kissed and licked by multiple men.

I flail into the nothingness, my head going back, letting the Magician devour me, tongues and lips and hands exploring every inch of my body, over and over again.

Then, my legs part, and he enters me, filling me with something indescribable, something both warm and cold, soft and hard, something that fills every crevice. It snakes in between bones and seeps into my veins, and I’m being fucked by the universe in every way possible.

I cry out, but it’s in my mouth as well, thrusting deep, meeting somewhere in my ribs, wrapping around my heart and squeezing. I am shattering into a million pieces yet held together by stardust. Every last inch of me is explored and kissed and teased until I am writhing, endlessly and forever, until time doesn’t exist.

And it doesn’t stop. It keeps going, and I keep falling and rising and I am flying and I am here and there and everywhere at once. I am myself and I am beyond myself. I am a soul in the world; I am the world.

“I feel you,” the Magician’s voice surrounds me as I feel him singular again, lips at my neck, his cock pounding inside me, coaxing orgasm after orgasm from me. “I feel who you are, Lovia, and you are lovely.”

“I don’t want this to end,” I cry out. It could go on for infinity. I am infinity.

“It has to at some point,” he says. “Let me feel you again, one last time.”

And so it begins once more, the onslaught of mouths and lips and hands and cocks, filling me until I burst into starlight, until I’m just a former goddess spinning into another galaxy.

I whirl and turn, and I am one and I am everywhere.

And then, I feel hard ground behind my shoulders.

And I am no longer everywhere, but somewhere .

In my tent.

Staring up into the dark. No stars.

“Magician,” I whisper into the dark. I slowly sit up, my head brushing against the canvas. I run my hands over my legs and feel my tunic and trousers.

I am me again.

Alone.

And yet, deep inside me, fragments of the universe still burn.

The next morning, I sleep in and don’t wake until Vellamo shakes my tent.

“Get up, Lovia,” her deep voice says. “We’re ready to move on to the Iron Mountains. It’s starting to snow.”

I let her know I’m coming and then quickly get ready, my body sore, my mind groggy from the wildness of last night. By the time I’m all packed up and hauling my tent over to the main camp, where someone loads it into a supply wagon, everyone is staring at me like I’m holding them back.

“Sorry,” I apologize sheepishly.

My father gives me a stern nod. “I suppose even generals need their rest sometimes,” he says gruffly, but his eyes are kind.

We start walking, and I look over to see the Magician. I go to him, falling in step beside him.

“So…” I start, not wanting to say too much since we’re surrounded by people.

“I take it you slept well,” he says in that smooth, blank voice of his.

A shivery feeling takes hold of my chest. “Very well. I had very unusual dreams. I was floating in space, one with the universe.”

He glances at me, and a shooting start curves up in a smirk. “That’s funny. I could have sworn I had that same dream, except in mine, I gained something invaluable. Of course, I don’t dream, but I’m glad you had a good one.”

And at that, he moves a little quicker, as if he’s trying to leave me behind. I’m about to rush after him when I sense Torben at my side.

“Peculiar fellow, isn’t he?” Torben comments. I study his weathered face to see if he’s being facetious, but he seems sincere.

“Very,” I say.

The plan for the day is to walk into the Iron Mountains and then down to my father’s secret cave, into what he calls his Mountain Lair. From there, we should be able to travel all the way to Shadow’s End hidden in the cave system. Of course, there are risks involved, one being that we could end up trapped and ambushed, but I doubt even my mother knows about the existence of these caves. For now, my father believes it’s the best option for us, and as his general, I agree.

Of course, the mountains themselves are no small feat, especially with the weather systems that usher in snow and freezing rain.

We’ve been walking for a while now, the wind getting colder by the second, funneled through the looming slopes of the mountains. Our troops trudge forward in a narrow column, the sound of boots scraping over loose stones echoing between sheer cliffs. I’m at the back of the line, walking a good distance behind the main group. I volunteered for this position—someone must watch our rear, make sure nothing follows us. It’s a quiet vigil, but I find some comfort in isolation. It gives me a chance to think about what happened in my tent last night.

That had been real, hadn’t it?

As we snake around a switchback, I can see the rest of the line ahead, my father’s silhouette barely visible as he leads the others, cloak flapping in the wind. Hanna, still distant in more ways than one and glowing faintly, walks near him. The Magician hovers at their side, choosing to be up ahead instead of back here with me. I figure maybe he needs some time apart to think. I just hope he doesn’t regret anything.

Rasmus is usually closer to the front with them, but today, he lingers at the rear with me. I sense his hesitation—maybe he thinks I still don’t trust him, or maybe he wants to prove something. We’ve barely spoken since we left the forest. I feel like he has consistently been trying to redeem himself, quietly aiding in small tasks. He’s still a shaman, still powerful in his own right, and maybe he wants me to see that.

Maybe he just wants forgiveness.

I glance over my shoulder at him. He’s a few paces to my left and behind, boots crunching on loose gravel. He should be in front of me, but I can still keep an eye on him this way. The sky is a sickly gray above us, clouds scraping the peaks. Snow drifts lazily—not enough to blanket the ground, but enough to blur the edges of the world. The soldiers between us and the main party are distant shapes bobbing along the jagged path. I feel oddly alone, despite knowing they’re not too far off.

Rasmus notices my attention. He tries a tentative smile, one that flickers and fails. I give a short nod, acknowledging his presence. Words feel heavy in my throat. I’m still not sure how to treat him. Like a brother? A friend? An ally? Is he any of those things? Time and battles have dulled the sharp anger I once held, and yet, trust doesn’t come easily to me. But we share a purpose now, don’t we? Survival and revenge. Perhaps that’s enough.

We move slowly, careful not to slip. The path isn’t wide, and below us is a steep drop that gives me a rush of vertigo. The sound of distant water echoes somewhere, a hidden stream or a melting snowfield. The hair on my neck prickles, and I feel a looming sense of dread, though I don’t know what of. Everything seems fine, but I know enough to never let my guard down.

I pause, listening. There’s something odd about the silence. The wind whistles and stones clatter under Rasmus’ boots as he catches up, but beyond that…no birds, no distant calls. I grip my sword hilt tighter, scanning the crags and ledges. Nothing moves. The columns of soldiers have disappeared around a bend, leaving me and Rasmus almost entirely alone.

“Lovia,” Rasmus says quietly from behind me, voice carrying despite the wind. “Should we hurry to catch up?” His tone is respectful, cautious, like he knows I might snap at him.

Before I can tell him yes, the ground trembles beneath my feet and my stomach drops.

An earthquake?

Or something worse?

We lurch backward as the ground splits open behind us, hurling shards of rock in a violent spray. I cry out, feet sliding on loose stones, and beside me, Rasmus lets out a string of expletives. A jagged fissure yawns wide, and a blast of bitter, frozen air hits my face.

From the craggy gap, something emerges—an Old God of stone and ice, as though the mountain’s marrow has formed into a living nightmare. It rises, hulking and immense, its body a mass of cracked granite shot through with icy veins. Shards of frost hang in jagged protrusions from its limbs, and where a face should be, there is a cavernous hollow rimmed with jagged blood-red crystals.

My heart leaps into my throat, terror sparking through my veins. I have my sword in hand before I know I’ve drawn it, fingers numb against the hilt. I back away, trying to find space, but the path is narrow, the drop behind me unforgiving. Rasmus stands near me, eyes wide and panicked.

Can we run fast enough?

The creature lunges before we can move, an arm of ice-crusted stone swinging toward me. I duck at the last moment, feel the rush of frigid air. My blade lashes out, sparks dancing where steel meets granite. The impact jars my arm, nearly twisting the sword from my grip. It lets out a grinding shriek like glaciers groaning under their own weight. As I block its second strike, the force rattles my bones.

“Get back!” I shout at Rasmus, but he doesn’t flee. Instead, he spreads his hands and chants, wind howling around him as sigils flicker in the air. I sense elemental power stirring as he attempts to bind it, slow its movements, give me a chance to finish it.

The Old God roars, a hollow echo rolling through the cliffs. Its icy limb lashes out again, razor-like shards scraping across my forearm. My armor deflects some of the blow, but pain flares hot under my skin. I grit my teeth against a scream.

Rasmus steps between us, his chanting intensifying. I can feel the air grow dense, a hush of magic that sets my hair on end. The monster hisses—an eerie sound of stone grinding on stone—and swings low. Rasmus leaps aside but not far enough. A hammer-like fist of ice and rock clips his leg, spinning him off-balance.

“Rasmus!” I snap, slashing wildly at the creature’s flank, desperate to draw it away from him. My sword skitters, carving shallow grooves into ice and stone but not nearly enough to cripple it. I’m fighting gravity, fear, and pain all at once.

Rasmus recovers, gasping. He thrusts a hand forward, and faint lines of runes blaze momentarily, his sword raised in his other hand. The Old God recoils as if whipped by invisible chains. For an instant, I catch my breath. Warm blood dampens my sleeve. We must end this now, or we won’t survive. The others are too far ahead, their footsteps lost in the wind. No one will come to our aid.

The Old God rumbles, swinging a massive limb in a sweeping arc. I duck then lunge, trying to strike deeper. My sword sinks a few inches into stone and ice, meeting stubborn resistance. The creature shudders but does not fall. It whips its arm, knocking me backward. My boots skid on loose gravel, and I nearly plummet over the edge before I catch a sharp outcrop of rock.

Rasmus yells something I can’t decipher and hurls a bolt of energy. The Old God shrieks, a crackling sound like ice splitting, as part of its stony hide fractures. I see a chance, try to move forward, but the monster bucks violently as rocks rain down from the cliffs above. One strikes my helmet, knocking it off, clattering over the mountainside. Stars dance in my vision, dizziness swamping me.

Too slow. The Old God lunges, a limb of serrated ice and granite aimed for my exposed head. I’m off-balance, sword raised too late. Panic grips me as I see my death in that frozen limb.

Rasmus cries out, a desperate, wordless sound, and throws himself in front of me, sword at the ready.

But the Old God’s blow impales him cleanly through his head. My stomach lurches at the sickening crunch, the spray of blood on the stone.

“No!” I scream, voice tearing free of my throat. Rage and grief fuse into vicious strength. I hack at the creature’s arm, and this time, my blade bites deeper, fueled by fury. Something cracks. The Old God howls a splintering cry, and I strike again, shattering ice and fracturing stone. The limb falls away, twitching uselessly, and while it’s distracted, I shove the sword right into the glittery maw until red ichor sprays me, every crystal shattering at once.

The Old God staggers, wounded at last, and stumbles backward to the edge of the cliff until it gives way. Within seconds, it’s gone, falling thousands of feet down, leaving only a bitter wind and scattered shards of ice and rock. Its impact below shakes the ground, the explosion echoing off the mountainsides like a bomb.

I drop to my knees beside Rasmus, who lies crumpled by a river of his own blood. His eyes flutter weakly. I raise my trembling hand above the gaping wound—half of his scalp shaved off, blood and skull and brain exposed.

Oh gods, oh gods.

I don’t know what to do, panic throttling my chest, vomit stuck in my throat. He tries to speak, blood on his lips. I lean closer, tears flooding my vision.

“Why?” I choke out. He saved me despite everything.

His voice is ragged, almost inaudible. “You deserved better,” he manages, each word a struggle. “You’re still…my sister…still…my family.” He coughs, blood staining the stone. “I’m sorry…” he whispers, eyes distant now, gaze slipping beyond me.

“No,” I plead, terror clawing at me. “Don’t go, don’t go.”

I shake him lightly, but the life fades from him, the spark leaving his eyes. He grows still, limp in my arms.

Rasmus is gone.

Sobs wrench from my throat. The wind keens around us, as if in mourning too. I’ve lost another ally—no, a brother—here in these cold, indifferent mountains. The others, far ahead, do not know; I am alone with Rasmus’ body, the echoes of our battle, and my grief.

For a long moment, I cradle his head, tears hot on my cheeks, letting his warm blood stain me as I turn cold in the wind. It shouldn’t have ended this way. So many regrets hang in the silence.

But I must stand, must keep moving. I cannot remain here. The path is dangerous, and I must warn the others of the Old God below in case the fall didn’t kill it. I must carry this burden forward, tell them how Rasmus gave his life for mine.

With trembling hands, I close his eyes and whisper a quiet farewell. The wind scatters my words. I rise slowly, arm throbbing, soul hollow. The cliffs tower around me, impassive witnesses. I take one last look at Rasmus then turn and continue along the trail, following the distant shape of my father’s party. My steps are heavy, each one a painful reminder of what I’ve lost.

I walk on, alone and broken, tears freezing on my cheeks, determined to survive and make his sacrifice meaningful.

There’s no turning back now.