Page 78 of Goddess of Light

In the silence that follows, I weep into my husband’s arms, holding my guilt close, like pressing on a wound that won’t stop bleeding.

CHAPTER THIRTY

DEATH

It happensin the dead of night, when the camp should be at its quietest. I have been sleeping lightly—no one can sleep deeply here, not with the skeleton army outside and the wards shimmering like fragile glass around us. My eyes snap open when I sense a change in the air, a subtle trembling in the wards. I sit up quickly, heart pounding, and look around. Hanna sleeps deeply beside me, her brows twisted together even as she dreams. Lantern light flickers over tense faces. Soldiers stir, muttering questions, hands on weapons.

I see Torben and Rasmus at opposite edges of the camp, each hunched in concentration. Their wards have protected us since yesterday, but now, the barrier crackles with instability. Sparks dance in the dark. I rise to my feet, stepping over sleeping rolls and scattered gear, making my way toward Torben.

He looks up, sweat beading on his brow. “They’re failing,” he says, voice tight with strain. “I don’t understand. Something’s sapping our strength.”

Rasmus echoes the sentiment from across the circle, voice shaking. “It’s not just us—somethinginsidethe wards is interfering.”

My heart sinks. I look around for Ilmarinen, expecting to see him working on the sampo—he has been focused on the device with an unsettling intensity—but I see no sign of him. The makeshift table where he had been tinkering is empty. Tools lie scattered, and the pack of parts and shards that once held the sampo is gone.

My blood runs cold at the sight.

“Ilmarinen!” I call, voice low but urgent. Soldiers pick up the alarm and begin searching the woods, but he’s nowhere to be found. Hanna sits up, looking around in confusion as Lovia calls for the missing shaman and starts searching. I don’t think poor Tellervo slept at all; she’s standing apart from the group, arms crossed, face still etched with grief—she barely glances up, her antlers drooping.

The wards sputter again, sending a shiver of green and blue sparks. A soldier yelps as a spark grazes his arm. The skeleton army outside stirs, as if sensing weakness, and the rattle of bone and rusty metal scrapes at my nerves.

“We must hold them,” I tell Torben. “Is there no way to reinforce the wards? Another spell?”

He shakes his head, grim. “They’re collapsing from within, destabilized with black magic. Without Ilmarinen or the sampo, we have no stable anchor.”

“And he’s just gone…”

Torben nods, his mouth twisted with betrayal. “He’s just gone.”

I clench my fists. It’s possible Ilmarinen has been taken, but we would have known. Others would have been taken too. There’s no way Louhi’s minions would have taken or killed him but let the rest of us live.

Which means he sabotaged us. A fucking traitor. But why? Did he serve Louhi all along, or did the sampo’s dark magic corrupt him? What was he really crafting?

I have no time for these questions now.

Survival comes first.

“Everyone!” I shout, my voice carrying over the crackle of wards. “Prepare for attack! The wards are failing, and we don’t know how much longer we have!”

The sound of weapons being drawn fills the air. The Magician steps into the dim light with Lovia beside him, sword at the ready. Hanna stands near me, pale and tense. I see Tellervo’s jaw tighten—she says nothing, but she lifts her hands, and I can sense her calling on the forest again, coaxing them to protect their last remaining God.

With a final crackle, the wards fail. The shimmering boundary pops like a bubble, leaving us exposed. Torchlight and lantern glow reveal a half-circle of skeletal warriors, their hollow eyes glowing. They surge forward with clacking jaws and clattering armor, ad behind them, I sense more shapes lurking, perhaps Old Gods waiting for the right moment. For a second, the thought weighs on me like a hammer, and I’m so fucking weary of it all, tired of this continuous fight.

But my resolve only bends for a moment. I think of Tuonen and Sarvi and driving a sword through Louhi’s eyeballs, and that’s enough.

“Form ranks!” I bellow, stepping forward. My sword gleams dully in the uncertain light. Soldiers close in, shields raised as the skeleton horde rushes us. Steel clashes with bone as we meet them head-on. Sparks fly, shouts and curses filling the air. I parry a skeleton’s spear, shatter its ribs with a swift strike, and move on to the next one.

Hanna deflects a sword stroke aimed at Lovia’s back, her eyes fierce despite her lingering guilt. Lovia stands strong, cutting down two skeletons with fluid grace. The Magician weaves strands of starlight to snare a knot of skeletons, holding them still while Rasmus and Torben hurl bolts of spiritualenergy to shatter them, their magic now freed since they no longer have the wards to contend with.

But more skeletons pour in from the sides. The forest confines us, roots and trunks limiting our movement. We fight desperately, pushing forward to escape the choke point. One of the Keskelli hurls her spear at a tall Bone Straggler, splintering its skull.

Meanwhile, Tellervo stands behind us, arms raised, calling a name I’ve never heard her utter: “Olso!”

The ground trembles in response. A deep growl resonates through the forest floor as branches creak and leaves quiver. A colossal shape emerges from the darkness—a giant bear the size of a troll, thick with fur and moss-laden, eyes glowing with old magic. Olso, summoned by Tellervo’s plea. The bear bellows, a thunderous roar that shakes skeletons apart. With massive paws, it swipes a line of the undead into splinters.

Our soldiers cheer. With Olso breaking their ranks, we gain ground. Step by step, we push through the forest. The skeletons press in from all sides, but the bear’s sheer strength carves a path while Torben creates a ward around it that deflects swords and spears. I fight near Hanna, watching the hesitant but determined strikes from her sword. She still struggles with her power, I can tell, but she’s here, helping in any way she can.

We crash through a thicket of brambles, driven forward, the skeletons moving back. The forest thins, the undergrowth clearing with it. Ahead, I see open space, the edge of the Hiisi Forest. Beyond lies the Liekkiö Plains, the vast desert where demon children burn with eternal flame. They roam at night, biting and clawing travelers, but we have no choice. Sticking to the forest means less space to maneuver—plus, I have no qualms about kicking those fiery kids’ heads clean off.

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