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)
The Old Gods are various in form and substance, but all are colossal nightmares—some fusions of bone and chitin, barnacle-encrusted limbs and too many eyes, while others resemble giant deer with the body of a man with antlers that soar ten feet in the air. One wades through a collapsed section of wall, snapping at defenders with a beaked maw dripping black ooze. Another hovers on membranous wings above the courtyard, screeching and dropping twisted carcasses that explode into swarms of ravenous insects. I choke on the stench as I swing my sword, severing a skeletal warrior’s spine. The creature crumples at my feet before I hack apart the rest of him, disabling him for good.
Hanna remains above, silent and godly. She raises one hand, and sunbeams stab downward, piercing the gloom. Where the beams land, undead hiss and crumble into ash. A tentacled horror tries to shield its eyes, keening as parts of its flesh scorch and peel, but even this divine intervention doesn’t simply wipe the enemy away. The Old Gods are clever enough. One curls behind a toppled tower and vomits out a thick, inky cloud that dims the sunlight in a patch of the battlefield, allowing skeletons to rally within that shadow. Another creature with lobster-like claws and a carapace of petrified wood smashes into our left flank, scattering wounded soldiers. Screams rise, and I flinch, desperate to help them.
I rush down broken steps, joining a knot of defenders wrestling with the snarling mass of horned skulls and scythe-like arms. The thing flails wildly, cutting down a soldier before I slam my sword into its side, feeling bone give way beneath the blade. The creature howls, and a shaft of light from Hanna lances it in the back, causing it to shrivel. I glance up, wanting to meet her gaze, to thank her, but she’s too far, her face lost in the glare.
On the eastern parapet, Lovia fights two horrors at once. One resembles a monstrous serpent wreathed in leech-like growths that snap at her ankles while the other stands like a hunched giant made of bone shards. She ducks under a spiked limb, counters with a clean slash, and then calls for archers. Arrows whiz by, followed by bullets, many helped by Torben’s magic. The serpent squeals as arrowheads puncture its hide, green ichor spraying across the stones.
Tapio staggers, panting. His attempt to grow entangling roots falters as an Old God’s scream shatters the delicate magic. Tellervo hurls a spear of spectral ivy that crackles with emerald energy, impaling a skeletal champion who’d been rallying troops. Vellamo summons a spinning vortex of meltwater that topples another cluster of undead. Imarinen’s wards deflect a volley of cursed arrows spat by an Old God that resembles a giant tick, its abdomen festooned with skulls. The tick-thing scuttles along a wall, toward Hanna’s light. When a sunbeam sears off two of its legs, it screeches and leaps down among us. Soldiers scatter, and I lunge forward, sword raised, shouting for a shield wall from Ilmarinen.
But it’s Rasmus who surprises me, darting forward and hooking the tick-thing with his pole. The Magician sends a mirage of fire dancing along its flank, making it think it’s aflame. Distracted, the horror flails at empty air, giving me time to drive my blade into a gap in its chitin, foul blood spilling out. The monster collapses under our combined assault, twitching until another shaft of sunlight from above reduces it to char.
Despite these victories, the battle rages on. The enemy is legion, and not all can be felled by a single beam of light. Some Old Gods burrow beneath the rubble, emerging behind our lines. One enormous, centipede-like horror clambers onto a rooftop and vomits a torrent of maggots that strip flesh from a soldier’s arm before rifles drive it back. I grimace at the brutality of it all. Even with Hanna’s help, this is no effortless bout. Every inch is paid for in blood and sweat.
The courtyard turns into a swirling chaos of shrieks, roars, and clangs. Skeleton warriors fight with unnatural tenacity, their shattered limbs still crawling after us. I watch in horror as a headless torso drags itself toward a wounded guard until Lovia crushes it beneath her boot. Thick smoke from burning monsters clouds the air, stinging my eyes. Still, Hanna floats far above, raining down shafts of solar fury whenever an Old God gathers enough strength to threaten us anew.
I just don’t understand why she doesn’t come closer. I long to see her face clearly, to hear her voice, to feel her presence beside me as we once fought side by side, like we were fated to. I mean, it is her, isn’t it? Or has the Sun changed her? Is she preserving her strength by staying aloft? My questions find no answers in this frenzy.