Chapter 34

CHAPTER 34

DEATH

The cavern trembles as Rangaista comes down, its massive frame blotting out the gray light from the opening above. Stone crumbles beneath its weight, the sound like grinding bones. The demon’s glowing eyes, fierce and unrelenting, scan the cavern as if savoring its prey before striking. Shadows writhe around its colossal form, tendrils of cold that creep across the ground, swallowing what little light remains.

Every instinct in me screams to act, to protect, to fight. My sword is already in hand, the worn steel humming with latent energy. Around me, soldiers stiffen, shields raised, weapons trembling in their grips. They’ve fought against Louhi’s undead hordes and the Old Gods, but this is different. This is something ancient and primal, something that carries with it the weight of despair itself.

This is Rangaista, the devil himself.

Or as Hanna once called him, the final boss, though frankly I don’t think he’s the boss of anyone.

Hanna steps closer, her light flickering faintly in the gloom. She glances at me, her golden eyes clouded with hesitation. I know she feels it—the fear that if she uses her power, she might lose herself forever. That whatever humanity is waiting to emerge might be buried for good. She doesn’t say it, but I see it in the way her fingers twitch, in the way her breath catches.

I want to tell her it’s okay, that I’ll still love her no matter what she becomes, but the words won’t come. I don’t have the luxury of reassurance. Not now. Not when this monstrosity threatens to destroy everything.

“Hold your lines!” I shout, my voice cutting through the growing chaos. “Do not falter!”

The soldiers respond with a collective roar, a feeble attempt to rally against their terror. I glance at Lovia, who stands firm beside me, her blade drawn, her face grim. She meets my eyes, and in that moment, I see both a fearless warrior and my daughter, someone who has endured so much and yet refuses to break.

Rangaista roars, the sound reverberating through the cavern like an avalanche. Its slick claws rake across the walls, sending more debris to rain down, landing on the cave floor like bombs. Soldiers scatter, some tripping over themselves, others instinctively charging forward.

“Keep your formation!” Lovia yells, her voice sharp and commanding, a true general.

The first wave of spears and arrows flies through the air, striking Rangaista’s hulking body. Most bounce harmlessly off its shadowy black hide of fur and hard puckered casing, but a few manage to embed in the softer gaps of the membranes between joints. It doesn’t flinch. Instead, it lashes out with a massive arm, its claws cleaving through soldiers as though they were paper. Blood splatters across the cavern floor.

“No!” Vellamo cries, rushing forward, her black armor gleaming as she strikes at the demon’s leg with her spear. Her blow lands, chipping away a fragment of its hard leathery casing, but Rangaista reacts instantly. Its tail, a spiked, serpentine appendage, whips around and slams into her side.

The force sends her flying across the cavern, her scream cutting through the chaos. She crashes into the far wall, crumpling to the ground. Her arm—her entire left arm—lies severed a few feet away, blood pooling around it.

“Vellamo!” Lovia shouts, starting toward her.

“Stay back!” I bark, stopping her. “She’s still alive. Focus on the fight!”

Lovia hesitates, fury flashing in her eyes, but she obeys. I glance at Vellamo lying there. She’s a Goddess, she has the strength to pull through, I have to believe that.

Hanna steps forward, her hands glowing faintly. She looks at me again, and this time there’s a question in her gaze, a plea for guidance.

“Do it,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside me. “Whatever it takes, Hanna. We need you.”

She nods, her face hardening. She raises her hands, and a burst of light erupts from her palms, cutting through the darkness. The cavern floods with a golden glow, and for a moment, Rangaista recoils, its jagged form steaming as if burned. The soldiers cheer, emboldened by the sight of their queen’s power.

But Hanna’s light is not the sun at full strength. It’s controlled, restrained. She’s holding back, and I know why. The fear in her eyes speaks to the humanity still within her.

Rangaista takes the moment to lunge at her, its claws slashing through the air. I move without thinking, intercepting its attack with my sword. The impact reverberates through my arms, but I hold firm, driving the blade into its tough, leathery hide.

“Now!” I shout to the soldiers.

They charge again, swords and arrows aimed at the creature’s exposed joints and vulnerable spots. Lovia leads the charge, her strikes precise and relentless, followed by her brother, both of fighting with the skill and grace that Vipunen instilled in them in their youth.

If I wasn’t so focused, I would be damn proud.

The Magician hurls bursts of black void, each impact creating rivers of a starry night sky that wraps around the demon’s body, squeezing it. Torben frantically chants, weaving protective wards that shimmer faintly around us.

The battle is chaos. Soldiers die horribly, crushed underfoot or impaled by Rangaista’s claws. The demon’s tail lashes out, sweeping through our ranks, leaving carnage in its wake. The air is thick with the stench of blood and burning hair.

Vellamo, despite her injury, rises to her feet. Her face is pale, and her right hand grips her pearl spear with unyielding determination. She plunges it into a weak spot in Rangaista’s side, drawing a roar of pain from the beast.

“Hold it down!” I command, lunging forward. My sword finds purchase in a gap near its shoulder, and I twist, trying to sever whatever unholy sinew holds it together.

Hanna’s light intensifies. She steps closer, her golden aura shimmering, her hands trembling. I can see her resolve wavering, the fear battling with her instinct to protect.

“Don’t stop!” I call to her. “You’re stronger than this thing. End it!”

She takes a deep breath, then raises her hands again. This time, the light explodes outward in a blinding surge as it tears a violent scream from her throat. It engulfs Rangaista, searing into its flesh. The demon howls, its form cracking and splintering into two pieces, like a too hot log on a fire.

“Hanna!” Lovia shouts in awe, shielding her eyes from the brilliance. “You did it!”

The light grows unbearable, filling every corner of the cavern. Soldiers fall back, retreating from the heat and radiance. I force myself to stay close, my blade still buried in the demon’s upper side, making sure it’s dead.

With a final, deafening roar, Rangaista collapses into the ground, cleaved two, creating a fissure of fire that runs across the cavern, steam and acrid smoke rising from the crack. Silence falls except for the ragged breathing of the survivors, everyone watching to see if the demon has truly been destroyed.

Then the fissure opens, slowly at first, flames licking out, giving us enough time to run away, before it opens wide enough to swallow the back half of the beast, leaving the head behind, a long black furry tongue rolling out.

Now it’s over.

It’s done.

Hanna collapses to her knees, her light fading. I rush to her side, pulling her into my arms. She’s trembling, her skin hot to the touch.

“You did it,” I say, my voice soft. “You saved us.”

She looks up at me, her eyes filled with exhaustion. “I’m not sure I did.”

I blink at her, confused. We made it, didn’t we? Around us, the soldiers begin to gather, checking the wounded, retrieving the dead. Lovia kneels beside Vellamo, who clutches the stump of her arm, blood pouring through her fingers, her face pale but resolute, while Tellervo is already trying her green magic to help it heal.

Then I hear it. A distant voice, faint and echoing.

“Father!”

I whirl around, my heart plummeting.

Tuonen?

Where is he? He was with us when the battle began.

“Tuonen?” I call out, my voice echoing through the cavern.

“Over there!” General Suvari shouts, pointing toward the far side of the chamber.

I run as fast as I can, panic pressing against my chest. The soldiers part for me, their faces pale. I see the fissure in the ground, the edges scorched and crumbling.

And there is Tuonen inside of the crevice, his head barely above the fire, his arms hanging on to the edge for dear life, but slipping, slowly slipping.

“Tuonen!” I scream, running and diving onto the ground, sliding across the cave floor, arms outstretched for him.

My fingers just brush the tips of his.

I almost reach him.

I almost have him.

I almost…

Then he screams as he slips, disappearing into the fires below until his screams abruptly go out.

“No,” I whisper, staring at the dark void. My son. My boy.

“No!” I roar, scrambling so that I’m staring over the edge into flames that fan and then fade into nothingness.

Lovia reaches my side, her face pale and stricken. “He was fighting alongside me,” she says, her voice trembling. “He was here, I turned away…”

She breaks off, her composure shattering.

I stare into the abyss. The cavern feels impossibly silent. The victory, the relief—it all turns to ash in my mouth.

“Tuonen!” I shout, my voice raw. It echoes back to me, hollow and mocking.

Lovia places a trembling hand on my shoulder. “He…he might still be alive,” she says softly. “There might be a way to…”

Her words falter, but I seize on them, clinging to the faintest hope.

“He’s not gone,” I say, rising to my feet. “I’ll find him. I’ll go after him.”

“Tuoni,” Hanna begins, but I cut her off.

“I will find him,” I say, my voice resolute. “This isn’t over.”

The others exchange uneasy glances, but no one argues. The weight of the moment presses down on all of us. We may have defeated Rangaista, but the cost was higher than I was ever willing to give.

My son.

My son!

As the cavern grows darker, I stare into the void, my resolve hardening. But the void stares back at me, silent and impenetrable. My heart pounds against my ribs, each beat a hammer of denial. Tuonen cannot be gone. My son cannot be lost. He is too strong, too clever. He has survived too much for it to end like this.

The silence mocks me. Even the echoes of my calls have faded, swallowed by the abyss. Hanna’s hand tightens on my shoulder, her touch warm and grounding, but I feel no comfort. Around us, the soldiers shift uneasily. They are afraid, not just for what we’ve lost, but for what comes next. Where am I leading them? How can I protect them if I can’t even protect my own son?

How does a God of Death grieve for his own blood?

Lovia stands frozen beside me, her eyes locked on the fissure, her chin trembling. “We’ll find him,” she says, her voice hollow but insistent. “There has to be a way.”

Before I can respond, the ground beneath us trembles. A deep, guttural noise rises from the fissure, a sound like stone grinding against bone. Soldiers step back, weapons raised, their nerves frayed to the breaking point. The cavern feels alive again, pulsing with a dark, ominous energy.

Then, with a violent burst, something erupts from the crack. Rocks and debris fly into the air, and everyone ducks for cover. A wave of acrid heat washes over us, and the cavern fills with a choking, sulfurous stench. I shield Lovia instinctively, my body reacting before my mind can process the moment.

When the dust settles, I see it. Not a monster or another attack, but a lifeless form.

Tuonen.

His body lies sprawled on the ground, thrown from the depths like an offering—or a mockery. His skin is marred with deep gashes and searing burns, one of his horns is broken in half, jagged and raw, and his once bright eyes are dull, staring at nothing.

“Tuonen!” Lovia screams, rushing to his side. She collapses beside him, her shaking hands hovering over his chest as if afraid to touch him, afraid to confirm what she already knows. Her breath comes in gasps, sharp and ragged. “No, no, no…”

I stand frozen, the world narrowing to this single, impossible sight. My son, my blood, lies before me, lifeless. The cavern feels colder, emptier, as if the air itself mourns. Slowly, I kneel beside Lovia, my hands quivering as I reach for him.

“Tuonen,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “My boy…”

My fingers brush his face, cool and unresponsive. There is no trace of the mischievous spark that once lit his eyes, no sign of the defiance that had driven him to challenge even me. He is gone, and the weight of that truth crushes me until I fear my heart is lost to Oblivion too.

Lovia presses her hands to his chest, as if she can will his heart to beat again. “He can’t be gone,” she chokes out. “No. No, no. He can’t be. He’s Tuonen. He’s strong. He always comes back. He—” Her words dissolve into sobs, raw and desperate.

Hanna steps forward, her face pale and stricken. She kneels on Tuonen’s other side, her hands glowing faintly with golden light. “I can try,” she says, her voice tight with determination. “I can try to bring him back. Perhaps I have that power.”

I don’t stop her. I watch, my breath caught in my throat as she lays her hands on his broken body.

But nothing happens, even as she closes her eyes and hums and her hands glow with the sun’s rays.

The light can’t reach him.

There is nothing.

Nothing but death.

My son taken me, forever gone.

“Stop,” I say sharply, my voice cutting through the tension like a blade. Hanna freezes, her light flickering. “It’s too late. His soul is gone,” I say, forcing the words through the lump in my throat. “I would feel it if he were still here. He’s beyond even your power. He’s beyond this world.”

Her light fades, and she sits back, her hands falling to her lap, staring at him with empty eyes.

The soldiers around us are silent, their faces pale and somber. Rauta, my trusty hound, howls in agony, then lies down next to Tuonen and whines pitifully. Even Vellamo, despite her own pain, watches with an expression of profound sorrow. The Magician stands at a distance, his hood pulled low, galaxies swirling in his unseen gaze. For once, he offers no cryptic words, no riddles. There is only silence.

Lovia leans over Tuonen’s body, her forehead resting against his. “You can’t leave me,” she whispers. “You can’t…you promised.” Her tears fall onto his burnt and bloodstained clothes, her grief raw and unrestrained. “When we were younger, you promised you would always take care of me.”

I reach out, my hand resting on her shoulder. “Lovia,” I say softly, though my voice shakes. “He wouldn’t want you to break. He fought for us, for all of us. We have to honor that.”

She turns to me, her face streaked with tears and rage. “Honor him? How? By letting him die while we keep going? By pretending this is just another loss?”

“No,” I say firmly, though the words tear at me. “By finishing what we started. By making sure his sacrifice wasn’t in vain.”

Her anger falters, replaced by a crushing despair. She nods slowly, her head bowed. “I can’t do this without him,” she whispers.

“You can,” I say, trying to give her strength that I don’t feel. “You’re stronger than you think. And he believed in you. That’s why he fought so hard for us.”

The cavern feels impossibly quiet, the weight of Tuonen’s death pressing down on all of us. I look at Hanna, her gaze blank. Still, she steps closer, her hand brushing mine. It’s a small comfort, but it steadies me.

“We need to give him a proper burial,” Vellamo says gently. “He deserves that.”

“We do. In his home,” I tell her. “We’re taking him to Shadow’s End.”

Though the thought of laying him to rest feels unbearable.

I lift Tuonen’s body in my arms, his weight both familiar and alien. He feels lighter than he should, as if even in death he refuses to burden me. Lovia walks beside me, her steps heavy, her shoulders slumped.

The soldiers follow in silence, their heads bowed. We move toward the far end of the cavern, continuing toward the end.