Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
I don’t stop her. I watch, my breath caught in my throat as she lays her hands on his broken body.
But nothing happens, even as she closes her eyes and hums and her hands glow with the sun’s rays.
The light can’t reach him.
There is nothing.
Nothing but death.
My son taken me, forever gone.
“Stop,” I say sharply, my voice cutting through the tension like a blade. Hanna freezes, her light flickering. “It’s too late. His soul is gone,” I say, forcing the words through the lump in my throat. “I would feel it if he were still here. He’s beyond even your power. He’s beyond this world.”
Her light fades, and she sits back, her hands falling to her lap, staring at him with empty eyes.
The soldiers around us are silent, their faces pale and somber. Rauta, my trusty hound, howls in agony, then lies down next to Tuonen and whines pitifully. Even Vellamo, despite her own pain, watches with an expression of profound sorrow. The Magician stands at a distance, his hood pulled low, galaxies swirling in his unseen gaze. For once, he offers no cryptic words, no riddles. There is only silence.
Lovia leans over Tuonen’s body, her forehead resting against his. “You can’t leave me,” she whispers. “You can’t…you promised.” Her tears fall onto his burnt and bloodstained clothes, her grief raw and unrestrained. “When we were younger, you promised you would always take care of me.”
I reach out, my hand resting on her shoulder. “Lovia,” I say softly, though my voice shakes. “He wouldn’t want you to break. He fought for us, for all of us. We have to honor that.”
She turns to me, her face streaked with tears and rage. “Honor him? How? By letting him die while we keep going? By pretending this is just another loss?”
“No,” I say firmly, though the words tear at me. “By finishing what we started. By making sure his sacrifice wasn’t in vain.”
Her anger falters, replaced by a crushing despair. She nods slowly, her head bowed. “I can’t do this without him,” she whispers.
“You can,” I say, trying to give her strength that I don’t feel. “You’re stronger than you think. And he believed in you. That’s why he fought so hard for us.”
The cavern feels impossibly quiet, the weight of Tuonen’s death pressing down on all of us. I look at Hanna, her gaze blank. Still, she steps closer, her hand brushing mine. It’s a small comfort, but it steadies me.
“We need to give him a proper burial,” Vellamo says gently. “He deserves that.”
“We do. In his home,” I tell her. “We’re taking him to Shadow’s End.”
Though the thought of laying him to rest feels unbearable.
I lift Tuonen’s body in my arms, his weight both familiar and alien. He feels lighter than he should, as if even in death he refuses to burden me. Lovia walks beside me, her steps heavy, her shoulders slumped.
The soldiers follow in silence, their heads bowed. We move toward the far end of the cavern, continuing toward the end.
CHAPTER 35
LOVIA
Grief feels a lot like what I imagine death to feel like.
At times terrible and violent, at others slow and insidious. But in the end, a severing of something vital inside you. A door that closes, never to be reopened.
The cavern air is thick and damp, clinging to my skin like a funeral shroud. Our procession moves in solemn silence, the only sounds the crunch of boots on gravel and the distant drip of water echoing through the tunnels. My father walks ahead of me, his shoulders heavy beneath his cloak as he cradles Tuonen’s lifeless body in his arms. Each step he takes is deliberate, the weight of grief and responsibility bearing down on him.
I walk a few paces behind, the Magician and Hanna flanking me, Torben, Tellervo and Vellamo at my back. Every step feels like it echoes in my chest, reverberating against the hollow space where my brother used to be. Tuonen’s absence is a wound I can’t stop pressing, and every time I glance at my father, the sight of him holding Tuonen’s body drives the blade deeper. I thought losing Rasmus was the worst thing that ever happened to me, but I was wrong.
I was so fucking wrong.
No one speaks. The air is too heavy with loss for words. Vellamo staggers alongside the rest of us, her severed arm hastily bandaged after Rangaista’s attack with some of Tellervo’s green poultice. She doesn’t complain, doesn’t falter, but I see the strain in her jaw and the way she clutches her side for balance. Tellervo walks close to her, offering silent support, her small frame trembling with every step.
I glance at the Magician. His face is a black void, the stars faint, as if all the life has been drained from him. And yet, he’s the only one who doesn’t appear crushed by the weight of what’s happened. It should comfort me, but it doesn’t. He said that things change and perhaps this is the new path, one he didn’t see coming. It would explain why he didn’t do anything about Tapio, about Rasmus.