Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

TUONEN

Rangaista, I think, my heart sinking like a stone as the figure comes down the steps into the dungeon.

The demon has returned to pay its grandson a visit after all.

But as it approaches, the shadow gets smaller and smaller until a dog made of metal, fur, and bone appears, sitting back on his haunches, his iron tail scraping against the ground as it wags.

“Rauta!” I whisper. “You came!”

Rauta lifts a paw as if to wave at me, and I notice the soft padding under the metal, enabling him to sneak around quietly.

“Good boy,” I tell him, moving to the bars and crouching down to his level. His head tilts, and he looks at me as if to say, now what ?

“See if you can find something to break me out of here,” I whisper. “Are there any keys hanging on the wall somewhere?”

It’s unlikely, but Rauta understands and starts sniffing around, nose to the ground and tail wagging. I’m not surprised when he comes back shaking his head.

“Well, fuck,” I mumble.

Rauta pads forward and pushes his soft nose against one of the cell bars, opening his mouth and slowly running its iron tongue along the metal. Then, he bares his metallic teeth, sharp and strong, as thick and long as my thumb.

I move back cautiously, unsure what he has planned.

The dog bites down on the bar, and sparks fly, the sound so grating, I have to cover my ears. He starts to tug at it as if it’s a meager chew toy, and I watch, wincing, as Rauta pulls the bar out, widening the gap. He moves on to the next bar, pulling it in the opposite direction until there’s just enough room for me to squeeze through.

Fuck. That dog is a lot stronger than I thought.

I quickly get up and squeeze through the bars, stepping out into the dimly lit corridor.

“You did it,” I whisper, leaning down and scratching behind his ears. “Good boy, good boy. Now, let’s get Sarvi. We have no time to lose.”

We hurry to the next cell over, the place I expected Sarvi to be, only to find it empty.

I stare at it for a moment, dumbfounded. I could have sworn I heard the unicorn in here. Then again, I have been in and out of consciousness for a while, and Sarvi never once communicated back. Perhaps it was someone or something else. Perhaps it was nothing at all.

Panicked, I go to the next cell and the next, but I’m the only prisoner here.

And I’m running out of time.

“Okay, Rauta,” I say to the dog, “looks like it’s just you and me, boy. Do you know the way out to the Crystal Caves?”

The dog nods and then starts trotting down the corridor, already disappearing around a corner.

I hurry after him, trying not to think about what could have possibly happened to Sarvi. I have to believe my mother spared them, welcomed them into the fold, that Sarvi is smart enough to play along and pledge allegiance, even if it’s a lie. I have to believe Sarvi made it out of here alive. The alternative is too bitter of a pill to swallow, not when it feels like I keep losing everyone by the minute.

I round the corner, going past one of the statues outside of the crypt that hasn’t turned into a living saint and walked away like the rest of them. It has one sword implanted in its hand, and I use all my strength to try and pry it off the marble. In the end, I headbutt it with my horns. They’re strong enough to shatter the hand into pieces, freeing the sword into my grasp. It’s old and slightly rusty in places, but it will have to do. I can’t depend on an iron-jawed dog to save me if we run up against any of the guards—or anything else.

But as Rauta leads me to the underground water system where my father often launches his boats, we don’t come across anyone. Still, I know our luck won’t last if we don’t move fast.

I look to the right, to where the water passes through the gate and empties out into the sea. Part of me thinks that would be an easier way of escape, but the moment we enter the open water, we’d be sitting ducks for the guards patrolling the castle above.

So, we climb into the tiny boat, with me at the oars, my new sword at the ready, and Rauta at the front. I start rowing toward the darkness, which should eventually lead us to the sparkling spectacle that is the Crystal Caves.

The boat creaks as I set the oars into motion, the faint echo of water lapping against stone walls following each stroke. Rauta sits at the bow, his iron jaw parted slightly, as if tasting the air. Darkness surrounds us like a heavy blanket, and with my ability to see in the dark now lacking, I have to strain my eyes to see where I’m going.

I keep my new sword balanced across my knees, trying not to think about what it will be like if we run into trouble here. I can’t expect anything friendly in these depths. I think the two of us could handle a couple of guards, but anything more than that, and we might be outmatched.

Still, I find myself whispering into the gloom. “We just have to reach the Crystal Caves. There’s a route there that leads deeper underground—maybe we can slip away, find allies, or just hide until…until what?” The question drifts unanswered. I shake my head, refocusing on the sound of the oars, the splash and pull of water.

Rauta’s tail scrapes softly against the wooden boards, a subtle rhythm that keeps my nerves from unraveling completely—he must sense my tension. He’s the only ally I have left right now, and I’m grateful for his steady presence. There’s no fear, no doubt, just silent loyalty.

The air down here is damp and stale, heavy with the scent of algae and rot. The occasional drip from above makes me flinch, and I can’t help but imagine threats lurking in every shadow, but nothing attacks us yet. The tunnel widens gradually, the ceiling arching higher, the silence growing more profound. If we can get to the Crystal Caves, I remind myself, we’ll have a chance to navigate beyond Louhi’s grasp and disappear into the rest of Tuonela. I must believe that.

When it feels like I’ve been rowing forever, the darkness starts to recede. Ahead, I see a soft, eerie glow—phosphorescent moss or lichen clinging to the cavern’s walls. As we approach, the waterway broadens into an underground lake that bends around corners. Amethyst stalactites drip overhead, and strange crystal formations loom like sentinels. I slow the oars, letting the boat drift.

“Rauta,” I whisper. The dog’s head lifts, ears tilting as he listens. “We must be getting close.” The hound offers no reply, only a faint scraping of claws on wood, but I imagine he approves.

I dip the oars again and begin to steer the boat around the perimeter. The glow intensifies in patches where clusters of fungus and moss thrive. My father once mentioned that these waterways wind through a series of interconnected caves, some filled with crystals as bright as the sun. I hope that once we reach them, their brilliance might help us find a safe path.

Just as I relax into a rhythm, a subtle ripple disturbs the surface of the lake. I freeze, lifting the oars. The water settles, and then another ripple appears, radiating outward from a point somewhere to my left. Rauta stands, iron joints creaking softly, and lowers his head, a low growl escaping his throat. My heart hammers.

Something is here.

A scent hits me—stale brine, decaying fish, a hint of sulfur. I pick up the sword and grip it tight, trying to pinpoint the direction of the disturbance. Then, I see it: a shadow beneath the water, sliding beneath the boat. I lean over instinctively, squinting, and regret it instantly when the shadow rises.

With a roar, a monstrous form heaves itself partially out of the water on the other side of the boat, enough for me to glimpse a cluster of eyes, bulbous and shining, set into a grotesque amalgamation of bone and shell that serves as a face. Tendrils of kelp hang from its scaled hide, and barnacle-like growths pockmark its body. It has to be an Old God—its presence is both ancient and unmistakably predatory.

And, frankly, disgusting.

“Rauta!” I shout, but the hound is already moving. He leaps onto the skinny prow, iron jaws snapping. The Old God’s eyes blink in eerie syncopation as a sinuous tentacle-like limb lashes out of the water. It slams into the boat’s side with a crack, sending it rocking violently. I yelp, nearly losing the sword overboard, and scramble for balance.

The creature’s mouth opens—not a normal mouth, but a vertical slit rimmed with serrated edges. It emits a sound that vibrates through my bones, and I grit my teeth, forcing myself not to freeze. We have to fight back, or else we’ll die here.

Rauta lunges, jaws clamping down on something that might be an appendage or a protruding spine. There’s a sick crunching sound as metal grinds bone. The Old God thrashes, whipping the water into a frenzy. Waves splash into the boat, soaking my trousers. I raise the sword, a determined growl escaping my throat.

I swing the blade down toward the creature’s closest limb, slicing through a fleshy tendril. The Old God shrieks, retracting into the water but not retreating. Instead, it circles beneath us, the boat spinning in its wake. My knuckles ache from gripping the sword, my body pathetically weak without the tips of my horns, and I hunch low to keep from being tossed overboard.

The hound turns, poised at the front. Without warning, the beast’s tail—if that’s what it is—breaks the surface behind us, crashing down. The boat lurches upward then slams down. I’m thrown forward, sword clattering against the hull. Pain radiates through my arm, but I scramble upright, heart pounding. Water sloshes around my ankles now, but I can’t tell if we’re sinking yet.

Then, Rauta decides to leap from the boat into the water.

“No!” I cry out as the dog disappears under the murky surface with a large splash. For one horrible, excruciating second, I think I’ve lost him.

Then, the Old God rears up, shrieking as bubbles erupt where Rauta attacks beneath the waves. The beast half-rises, revealing twisted limbs and a ridged carapace.

It’s now or never.

I lunge forward, half-submerged in the water quickly filling the boat, swinging the sword with both hands. The blade strikes the Old God’s chitinous flank, and chips of shell rain down. The monster’s eyes swivel toward me, each one burning with a ghastly inner light. It hisses, whipping a muscular limb toward me. I try to dodge, but it hits my forearm, numbing it in an instant.

I cry out, almost dropping the sword. What the fuck?

Is its touch paralyzing?

The boat spins wildly, and I realize we’re drifting away from the cavern wall, further into the open lake. If I can just push the Old God back, maybe we can escape around it, but it seems determined to make a meal of our bones. My breath comes in ragged gasps. The stale air and the stench of the creature’s hide threaten to choke me, and I shake out my arm violently until I get some feeling back, the sword now in my other, weaker hand.

Rauta resurfaces on the other side of the Old God, clinging to a ridge of bone with his iron jaws. The monster wails, torn between attacking me and shaking off the hound. Its tail slams down again, missing the boat by inches, sending a spray of foul droplets into my face. I wipe my eyes, fury mounting inside me. We cannot die here, not after escaping that dungeon.

I brace my feet against the boat’s edge, summoning my courage. The sword trembles in my grip until I pass it over to my other hand, strength and feeling returning in the nick of time. With a warrior’s cry, I thrust it forward into a gap between shell plates. The metal grinds into softer flesh beneath, and black ichor gushes out, coating my hand. The Old God screeches, thrashing violently as Rauta digs deeper, ripping free a piece of cartilage with a grating crunch.

The creature’s limbs flail blindly, tearing at stalactites and sending chunks of rock tumbling. One fragment glances off my shoulder, but I ignore the pain. The Old God tries to dive, to slip back into the safety of the lake’s depths, but Rauta holds fast. I can see the hound’s eyes glinting in the phosphorescent light, no fear, no hesitation.

“Finish it,” I grit out. I adjust my angle and slide the sword deeper, twisting it with every ounce of strength I have left. My muscles burn, and I feel the blade meet resistance. I push harder until something gives—a sickening crack—and the Old God’s shrieks reach a fever pitch.

Rauta yanks downward, and I see one of the creature’s eyes burst into milky fluid. The horror convulses, tentacles slapping helplessly against the boat’s hull. I pull the sword free and stab again, this time straight into its gaping maw. Teeth crumble as the blade penetrates deeper. The Old God’s cry turns into a ragged, bubbling gasp.

Then, with one last, spasmodic jerk, it collapses, half of it still above the surface. I scramble back as it begins to sink, its weight pulling it down. Rauta leaps free just in time, splashing into the water and dog-paddling back to the boat. I lean over, grabbing his collar with my free hand, and haul him aboard. He shakes his head, spraying me with droplets, then settles onto the damp planks, tail thumping happily, as if that was no big deal at all.

I’m trembling, half in shock. My ears ring and my lungs burn. If I wasn’t so terrified and exhausted, I might laugh at how close we came to death. Instead, I slump down, sword still clutched tight, staring at the ripples as the beast slowly sinks beneath the surface. The water, stained with black sludge, slowly settles.

The boat rocks gently, filled with water but still floating.

There’s a metaphor there somewhere.

I run a hand over my face, smearing ichor across my cheek, and Rauta nudges my shoulder with a comforting whine. My shoulder aches from where the rocks hit it, but I’m alive. We’re both alive.

“Good job, Rauta,” I whisper, voice shaking. “Good boy.” The words sound absurd after what we just endured. Good boy , as if he fetched a stick, not tore apart a monster.

I take a few moments to catch my breath. We must keep moving. The Crystal Caves lie ahead, somewhere through this labyrinth of waterways. I can’t stop now. The longer we linger, the more likely we’ll attract attention from other horrors.

I retrieve the oars, my hands unsteady. Every muscle protests as I row, guiding us away from the scene of the battle. The damp air rasps in my throat, but I row on, following the faint glow in the distance, one that burns brighter than the phosphoresce on the walls.

Rauta sits at the bow again, iron tail tapping lightly, as if beating a drum to encourage a warrior. The silence that follows is almost peaceful, but I know it’s only a lull. Yet, I feel a grim spark of confidence kindle in my chest. We survived an attack from an Old God—not easily, but we made it through. If we can endure that, maybe we can find our way out of this nightmare after all.

I pray it’s not wishful thinking.

I row through the darkness, water dripping from stalactites like a strange, slow applause. Rauta’s silhouette remains steady, a guardian who knows no fear. I need to borrow some of the dog’s courage.

Eventually, the waterways narrow until the light is a bright pinprick at the end of the tunnel, which slowly grows bigger and blinding until we find ourselves in the Crystal Caves.

Like before, there are amethyst stalactites, but it has increased tenfold. There are also formations of citrine, rose quartz, aquamarine, and fire quartz coming from all directions, including up through the water like a forest of shimmering tree trunks.

Even Rauta looks in awe as his eyes take in the cave, everything sparkling and shimmering in millions of pastel shades. It’s beautiful and mesmerizing, especially as the crystals seem to emit a faint melodic chime, but even so, I remain on guard. I know I can’t take anything for granted here.

Eventually, the boat slides against the shore, against sand made of crushed crystals in shifting colors and fine white moss, the water in the shallows the color of pink milk.

Rauta leaps onto the land as I step out of the boat, my sword gripped firmly. There’s a passage ahead of us, the walls made of tourmaline. It leads somewhere, hopefully the way out.

Rauta trots off in that direction, and I start to follow.

“Tuonen, Son of Death,” a deep, primordial voice echoes through the caves, causing stalactites of quartz and amethyst to fall from the ceiling and shatter.

Rauta stops and barks, looking at me over his shoulder for guidance.

Vipunen!

I thought we could end up near Vipunen’s cave, the all-knowing giant who taught Lovia and I how to fight in our blind masks. But now that alliances have shifted, the cryptic deity might be as compromised as the rest of them.

“Come closer,” the giant’s voice rumbles, coming from everywhere all at once. “Do you see that light?”

The glow shines in the distance, illuminating the pockets of crystals in the walls, turning everything a shade of lavender.

“Follow the light,” he booms.

“How do we know we can trust you?” I ask, wincing at the tremble in my voice, though the sword remains steady in my grip.

“At this point, Tuonen, I don’t think you have a choice,” he says with a chuckle. “If I meant you any harm, I would have caused it already.”

Uh huh.

“And that thing back there wasn’t it?”

“Oh, that?” Vipunen booms. “That was just Iku-Turso, an Old God I haven’t seen in a very long time. Pain in the ass, if you ask me, but you did a fine job of disposing of it. Better you hurry in case another takes its place. Those tentacles regenerate, you know.”

I glance behind me at the water and sigh, exchanging a look with Rauta.

Looks like we don’t have a choice.