Page 97 of Goddess of Light

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 otherside, 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.

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