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)
Rauta nudges my hand again, as if to say listen. You came here for truth, for safe haven. Vipunen offers both, in his mysterious, detached way.
Choices are so terribly heavy when they’re yours alone to make.
“So you advise me to wait? To trust that, in time, the world will turn, and my father will find me here?”
Vipunen’s laughter is gentle, like distant echoes in a deep canyon. “I do not advise, Tuonen. I only state what is. If you remain, you hold a vantage point outside the fray, allowing fate to run its course until the moment you are truly needed. Your father, or those tied to him, will seek knowledge only I hold. When they do, you’ll be here, ready to join them. If you leave now, chasing Sarvi or chasing battles, you risk losing this critical junction.”
My pulse pounds in my ears. The pain of indecision claws at me. Yet, a strange calm seeps in as well. Vipunen’s domain is quiet, eternal. The war outside will continue whether I flail at it or not. I’m no hero who can singlehandedly turn the tide. Perhaps waiting is wise. Perhaps that’s the hardest lesson—knowing when not to fight.
I swallow hard, voice cracking. “I’ll stay.”
Rauta gives a low, affirmative huff. The dog seems content with this decision, as if recognizing that resting and gathering strength might be best. He has already done so much for me; he deserves the rest.
Vipunen’s light glows brighter for a moment, only to dim to a comfortable glow. “There are streams deeper in, edible fungi, places to rest. Time flows oddly here; you will not starve or wither. Think of this cave as a womb of stone, cradling you until the moment comes to be reborn into action. That moment will arrive, I assure you. Your father will not forget you, nor will fate’s tapestry neglect your thread.”
I bow my head, tears slipping free now—not sobbing, just quiet resignation and sorrow for Sarvi, for the realm, for my own helplessness. All the emotions I’ve tried to keep buried inside come to a head at a most inopportune time.
But there’s also a flicker of hope. If Vipunen says my father will come, I must trust it. My father is strong, resourceful, and surrounded by allies. Plus, he’s spiteful as fuck. If there’s a way to save Sarvi or to strike at Louhi’s heart, he’ll find it, and I can rejoin him when the time is right.
“Thank you,” I manage, voice low, raw. “I’ll wait. I’ll learn patience again.”
Perhaps I’ll have a virtue after all.
Vipunen’s presence hums through the stone, a gentle reassurance. “No thanks needed. You walk your own path, Tuonen. I am only the light in the cracks, the old watcher who shaped you long ago. Rest. Regain your strength.”
I guide Rauta toward a quieter corner of the cavern, where a small pool of water reflects the faint glow. The dog settles down, laying his iron head on his paws. I kneel beside him, trailing a hand through the still water. The silence is profound but not lonely. I have Rauta, at least, and somewhere above, my father and others fight for the realm.
So, I wait, breathing steadily in the hush of ancient stone and gentle light as time drifts and destiny’s pattern weaves unseen.
Unseen by all but the Oldest God.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DEATH
The night is dark.
I’m now standing in the cavernous hall where Louhi must have strategized her attack on my world. It’s strange how a place can hold echoes of another’s presence even after they’re gone. Louhi once paced these floors, plotting and smirking and planning my demise. Now, I’m about to use the very space where she schemed against me to plot her downfall. It’s fitting in a way, but it doesn’t feel victorious. It feels desperate, as if I’m only here out of sheer necessity, which is the cold, hard truth.
The hall is constructed of obsidian and volcanic ash, the walls carved with old runes and sigils I can’t bring myself to read right now. Columns rise like inky trunks in a moonlit forest, and strange banners—left behind by Louhi or her minions—hang limp in the still air. The torchlight flickers, shadows dance, and the people I’ve gathered stand in an uneasy semicircle before me. They look at me expectantly as I pace behind the large, ironwood desk, maps strewn about the surface Torben had found in the cellar.
In the middle of the group, on the other side of the desk, stands Lovia. She looks strong, fierce, defiant. I’m glad she’s here—I need her strength, her fire. Still, it shames me that I have to rely on my own child in this madness. She has proven herself countless times, I know, but I still feel guilty that I’ve allowed the world to come to this point. I was supposed to protect all of them: my children, my people, my allies. The despair that gnaws at me is relentless. I swallow it down. I cannot show it. Gods must be unshakable, must they not?