Page 18 of Goddess of Light

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 tobelieve 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 ofus 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.

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