Chapter 36

CHAPTER 36

HANNA

Vipunen’s cave is vast and shadowed, its walls humming with faint energy, but the glow that once emanated from the stone giant is gone. The absence feels wrong, as if something sacred has been extinguished. I stand near the center of the space, trying to absorb the silence, but it grates against me. I thought when I used my powers to destroy Rangaista, that I would lose all ties to my humanity, for good, but now that I’m surrounded by grief and loss, it’s starting to creep back, prickling at the edges of my consciousness.

I welcome it, but the threat of feeling my own grief makes me hesitate.

It scares me.

But fear is a human emotion, is it not?

I glance at Tuoni. He’s seated on a stone ledge, holding Tuonen’s lifeless body as if he could still protect him. His broad shoulders are hunched, his head bowed. I feel a flicker of sadness, but it’s distant, like hearing a song through water. I should feel more for this moment. Tuonen was kind to me when I felt like an outsider to the family. He was funny, and playful, always wanting more from life, even in this land of the dead.

But now he’s gone, and I am…I am the sun, aren’t I? I’m supposed to be above the complicated lives of these humans and lesser gods. These very beings that are scattered throughout the cavern like ants.

Vellamo leans against a jagged pillar, her severed arm crudely wrapped with cloth. Tellervo sits beside her, whispering quiet reassurances. Rauta lies near Tuoni, his massive head resting on his paws, his red eyes fixed sadly on the boy he was too late to save. My father and General Suvari huddle nearby, speaking in low tones, their words a murmur in the oppressive stillness.

Slowly, very slowly, we become less and less.

How many of us will remain in the end?

I move to the edge of the cavern and look into the darkness of the surrounding tunnels. My steps echo faintly, and I force myself to listen for something—anything. It’s instinct, I think, or maybe just a way to distract myself from the emptiness gnawing at my chest.

Then I realize something’s wrong.

“Where is Lovia?” I ask, my voice cutting through the quiet.

Heads turn. Tuoni lifts his gaze, and I see the panic in his eyes before he composes himself.

“She headed in that direction,” the Magician says, pointing at the corner of the cavern.

I run to the nearest side tunnel. “Lovia?” I call, my voice sharp. The air feels colder here, heavier. Something isn’t right.

Up ahead, I spot a narrow crevice, just wide enough for someone to slip through. My heart—or whatever remains of it—tightens. A whisper curls through the air, faint and disjointed. I don’t catch the words, but I feel their weight and familiarity.

“Lovia!” I yell again.

I squeeze through the crevice, scraping my arms against the rough stone, but I feel no pain. I never do anymore. On the other side, the chamber opens up, dimly lit by veins of faint blue in the walls. My gaze lands on the ground first—a patch of disturbed dirt and moss, as if there was a struggle. Then I see it. A broken lantern and her sword.

Lovia never goes anywhere without her blade.

I rush forward and kneel, my fingers brushing the hilt. The whisper comes again, clearer this time.

Pick up the sword and try again.

My breath catches. The words are unmistakable. It’s what Vipunen used to say to me when I failed in training. I turn, searching the chamber for any sign of the giant, but it’s empty.

“Hanna!” Tuoni’s voice cuts through my thoughts. He appears in the crevice, his frame filling the narrow opening, his eyes scanning the room.

“She’s gone,” I say, holding up the sword as proof.

Tuoni strides forward, his movements sharp with urgency. He kneels beside me, his gloved hand brushing the dirt. His nostrils flare, and his face darkens.

“The air stinks of Louhi,” he growls.

Of course. Who else would be behind this? My stomach twists, a flicker of rage breaking through my detached calm.

Tuoni rises abruptly, moving toward the crevice. “I’ll follow her,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

“No,” I say, standing and blocking his path. “It’s a trap. Louhi wants you to follow. She knows you’ll come for her.”

He glares at me, his silver eyes gleaming like storm clouds. “She has my daughter. The last of my children.”

“And she’ll have you too if you go,” I snap, my voice rising. “We don’t have time for this. Lovia wouldn’t want us to walk into her mother’s trap. She would want us to stay on course.”

Tuoni’s hands clench into fists, and for a moment, I think he’ll argue. But then he exhales sharply, his shoulders sagging. He nods, reluctantly.

Pick up the sword and try again , I hear the whisper once more.

I look down at Lovia’s blade, still in my hand. It feels heavy, but also right, as if it belongs with me now. I tighten my grip and slide it into the belt of my torn dress. “We’ll find her,” I say, my voice steady. “But not like this.”

We return to the main cavern where the others are waiting. They look up as we enter, their faces drawn and weary. Tuoni says nothing, but his expression is enough. They know Lovia is gone.

“We move,” Tuoni says after a long silence. His voice is hard, unyielding. “Vipunen isn’t here. Louhi has taken Lovia. The Crystal Caves are our only path now.”

No one argues.

We gather what little we have and head into the tunnel that leads to the Crystal Caves. The air grows colder as we descend, the walls glinting faintly with crystalline veins. The passage narrows, forcing us into single file, with Tuoni leading the way. He carries Tuonen’s body wrapped in a cloak, his steps measured but relentless, the weight of his grief making his movements heavier with each passing step.

I follow close behind, my father just ahead of me, his staff clicking softly against the stone floor. The others trail in silence, the echo of their footsteps the only sound. Even Rauta moves quietly, his ears pinned back.

When the tunnel opens up, the sight takes my breath away. I’ve been here before, but even so, it doesn’t fail to impress. The Crystal Caves are otherworldly, their walls shimmering with countless facets of light. It reminds me a lot of the sun, except here the crystals are cold and pastel. Waterways cut through the stone, their surfaces glittering like liquid diamonds. The air is crisp, filled with chimes and the faint sound of trickling water, as if the earth itself is whispering a melody.

Tuoni halts on the crystalline shore, his gaze sweeping over the scene. A small boat rests on the moss and sand, its hull battered but intact, as if waiting for us. With a sinking feeling I realize that this is the boat that Tuonen probably took to escape from Shadow’s End, and from the gravity on Tuoni’s brow, I know he realizes the same.

Without a word, he strides toward it, placing Tuonen’s body gently inside. For a moment, he lingers, his hand resting on the cloak that covers his son. Then he straightens, his expression hardening.

“Get in,” he says to us, his voice low but commanding. The boat is small, only able to fit a few of us. He looks to the troops behind us, still filing out into the cave. “The rest of you can stay behind and wait for further instructions from my scouts. You should be safe here,” he adds, though I can tell he doesn’t believe it. “Otherwise, if you’re a good swimmer, you’ll be taking a dip. Perhaps, Vellamo, you can provide some assistance?”

“Of course,” Vellamo says as she approaches the edge of the water, closing her eyes and chanting something that causes the water to ripple away from her. She does this for a minute, while the Keskelli, standing nearby, exchange nods before wading into the water, their massive forms breaking the surface like living boulders. They kneel, allowing some of the braver troops to climb onto their shoulders.

Vellamo then raises her remaining hand, and the water stirs. A massive shape rises from the depths—a whale made of bones, its skeletal frame gleaming in the crystalline light. The soldiers gasp as it emerges, silent and imposing, its empty eye sockets glowing faintly.

“Some of you can ride with my kind,” Vellamo says, her voice quiet but commanding as she gestures to the whale.

The troops move quickly, climbing onto the whale’s back as Vellamo steps into the water, her form blending seamlessly with the currents. She glances at Tuoni, her expression unreadable, then begins to swim alongside the whale, her movements graceful despite the bandaged stump of her missing arm, until she dives beneath the water and disappears.

The boat rocks gently as I climb in beside Tuoni. My father takes the seat opposite me, his staff resting across his knees, the glow of the shimmering walls reflecting faintly in his lined face. Tellervo, her expression solemn in the dim light, sits behind us, then General Suvari takes up the oars, in charge of the rowing. Rauta jumps in last, heading to the prow where he proudly stands on patrol, his red eyes scanning the water.

The boat pushes off, gliding silently along the waterway. The trolls swim beside us, their broad shoulders breaking the surface, four or five armed troops riding each Keskelli. The bone whale follows, its hollow eyes glowing faintly beneath the water, with even more soldiers clinging to its back.

For a time, there is nothing but the sound of the water and the faint echoes of our passage. The crystalline walls shimmer with an ethereal glow, casting fragmented light on our faces. It should be beautiful, but the air is heavy with grief. I can feel it pressing down on all of us, unspoken but undeniable.

It feels like it’s coming for me, waiting just below my skin.

The boat glides silently across the water, the faint sound of oars cutting through the glassy surface. I stare ahead, focused on the shimmering walls, the reflections dancing below, trying not to let the weight of everything press too heavily on me. Then I hear a soft splash.

At first, I think it’s the oars hitting the water, but then something darts beneath the hull—a flash of kaleidoscopic light. My breath catches. Another splash, closer this time, and a fish breaks the surface.

No, it’s not a fish. It’s a mermaid, no larger than a doll, with iridescent scales and delicate features. She swims beside the boat, her luminous form glowing faintly in the dim cavern light.

“Bell,” I whisper, my voice trembling with recognition.

“Hanna?” Bell chirps, her voice high and curious. She tilts her head, studying me. “I told you I’d see you again! Vellamo put out the call, and here I am. Did you miss me?”

Tuoni glances down at her briefly, his silver eyes distant, as if he’s already dismissed her presence. Bell stares at him, unimpressed, and sticks out her tongue when he looks away. Her bright eyes narrow, scrutinizing me. “What’s wrong with you?” she asks. “Why are you glowing? You seem…off.” She pauses, looking past me to the others. “Everyone is off. What happened?”

I can’t answer. Her words pierce through something in me, striking a memory buried beneath layers of divinity. I stare at her, and for a moment, I feel the weight of who I used to be. There’s a flicker of emotion—affection, maybe? She was my friend, wasn’t she? But it’s distant, as though I’m viewing it through fogged glass.

Before I can respond, the water ahead churns violently.

“There!” Tuoni cries out, pointing at the water as ripples spread out in wavering circles, and a low, menacing growl reverberates through the cavern. I straighten up and freeze as a massive shadow rises from the depths.

Rauta starts barking like mad as the water explodes in a spray of foam and brine. A monster from the depths emerges, its grotesque form a monstrosity of jagged fins, twisting tentacles, and barnacle-encrusted flesh. His molten eyes glow with a terrible, ancient rage, and his roar shakes the very walls of the cavern, sending cascades of water down the crystalline stalactites.

“Iku-Turso!” my father yells. “The Old God of the sea! Everyone hold on!”

The boat rocks violently, nearly capsizing. Soldiers cry out as the bone whale rears back, its skeletal form dwarfed by the leviathan. Bell shrieks, diving beneath the water as a massive tentacle lashes out, slamming against the boat and sending a spray of water over us.

Tuoni jumps onto the prow in front of Rauta, his sword drawn, his silver eyes blazing. “Hold steady!” he commands, his voice cutting through the chaos.

I spring into action, reaching back to grab the tiller, my hands trembling as Iku-Turso’s massive form towers over us. His tentacles writhe, slamming into the water with thunderous force. Bell resurfaces briefly, her tiny form darting frantically, but a massive tentacle sweeps down, snatching her from the water.

“Bell!” I scream, my voice raw and desperate. I lunge forward instinctively, but there’s nothing I can do. The Old God’s gaping maw opens, jagged teeth glinting, and in one brutal motion, he devours her whole.

The sound of her scream and snapping bones fills the air.

Something inside me shatters. The grief is immediate and all-consuming, breaking through the cold detachment I’ve clung to. My chest tightens, and I feel my humanity surge back to the surface, raw and overwhelming. Tears blur my vision, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, I feel pain—real, crushing pain.

Bell.

Tuonen.

Tapio.

Even Rasmus.

All gone.

And if we don’t fight this beast, I’ll lose the rest of them too.

Tuoni doesn’t hesitate. He leaps from the boat, his sword flashing as he lands on Iku-Turso’s massive back. The creature roars, twisting and thrashing, trying to dislodge him. Tuoni clings tightly, his blade carving deep into the beast’s barnacle-encrusted hide. Each strike sends a spray of brackish water and ichor into the air.

The boat lurches as another tentacle slams into the water beside us, sending waves crashing over the sides. I tighten my grip on the tiller, trying to keep us steady, but the chaos is relentless. Soldiers fire arrows and throw spears from the backs of the trolls, their weapons barely scratching the Old God’s impenetrable hide.

Vellamo rises from the water, her remaining hand glowing with an eerie blue light. She summons a massive wave, directing it at Iku-Turso. The water crashes into him with the force of a tsunami, momentarily staggering him as it rocks our boat. But the Old God roars in defiance, his tentacles lashing out wildly.

One tentacle sweeps toward the bone whale, striking it with devastating force. The whale fractures, its skeletal frame crumbling into the water. Soldiers scream as they’re thrown into the depths, their cries quickly swallowed by the chaos.

Tuoni climbs higher on Iku-Turso’s back, his sword flashing again and again. He reaches the beast’s head, driving the blade deep into the molten eye. Iku-Turso howls in agony, his thrashing growing more violent. The boat pitches dangerously, and I cling to the sides, my knuckles white.

“General Suvari!” Tuoni shouts, his voice carrying over the cacophony. “Take the helm! Hanna, do your worst!”

The general scrambles to my side, taking the tiller as Tuoni leaps back into the fray. But instead of summoning my sun power, I grab Lovia’s sword. It’s what Vipunen would have wanted me to do.

I run to the front of the boat as it rocks back and forth, then take aim and a deep breath before I fling the sword toward the beast, as easy as throwing a knife. It spins through the air and the blade strikes true, embedding itself in another eyeball. Iku-Turso roars, his massive form writhing in pain.

Vellamo raises her hand again, summoning another wave. This one is smaller but more precise, slamming into Iku-Turso’s face and forcing him backward. Tuoni seizes the opportunity, driving his blade into the beast’s skull with all his strength.

The cavern trembles as Iku-Turso lets out a final, guttural scream. His massive body collapses into the water, sending a tidal wave that nearly capsizes the boat. Soldiers cling to the wreckage of the bone whale, and the trolls swim desperately, gathering the wounded.

Tuoni pulls both swords from the monster then leaps back into the boat, soaked and breathing hard. His silver eyes meet mine, fierce and unyielding, and hands me Lovia’s sword. “We need to keep moving,” he says, his voice low and urgent.

I nod, taking the sword in my hands, my body trembling with exhaustion and grief. The boat steadies, and we push forward, leaving the shattered remnants of the battle behind. The crystalline walls seem dimmer now, their light muted as if mourning the loss of Bell and the others.

The grief remains, heavy and suffocating. Bell is gone. Tuonen is gone. Rasmus is gone. Lovia is missing. And I am no longer the unfeeling Goddess.

I am Hanna Heikkenen, and I feel everything.

It’s fucking awful .