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 bring my eyes to her. “Told them what could happen?”
A flash of shame comes across the Sea Goddess’ face before she raises her chin proudly. “You are not the same Hanna I saw leave with Päivätär. You have changed. The power of the sun has lessened your tie to humanity.”
I stare at her, wondering if I’m supposed to feel a certain way about that.
“I still have mortal links,” I counter. “My mother explained I might forget those I walked beside before, but I do remember you all. Slowly, you are being revealed; from a distance, but I do. I am unsure what it is you want from me, because you all stand around as if you were wanting someone different. For that, I’m sorry. I can’t be the Hanna I was, but that Hanna wouldn’t have been able to save you in the way I did. It is unfortunate there is such a trade.”
“We are grateful, dear daughter,” Torben, my father, says to me warmly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“I am better than okay,” I tell him. “I am the prophecy, the one to unite the land.”
“The one to touch Death,” Tuoni says in a grave voice.
“Yes,” I say, giving him a small smile. “I remember now. I am the only one you can touch with your bare hands. I have now become the thing most needed to save Tuonela.”
There are a few murmurs in the crowd. There are many mortals here, soldiers, and they look relieved, far more than the Gods do. They know the odds have now turned in their favor.
Still, Vellamo’s words hang in the air like a shimmering veil of accusation. My tie to humanity has lessened? I think of what that means. Humanity: that messy, heated swirl of emotions, memories, vulnerabilities. I remember how, before Mother Sun took me, I was someone with feelings that burned like coals, sparking wild fires, often out of control. Now, I feel…refined, focused, powerful—and distant. Did I lose something vital in gaining so much strength?
I study their faces again. My supposed family and allies are a wounded, wary circle around me. Tuoni—my partner—still holds my hand, as if afraid I’ll slip away. Lovia, his daughter, watches me with bruised suspicion. Vellamo’s eyes glitter like the surface of a stormy sea. The red-haired young man—Rasmus, I think—regards me with wary awe, as if I might burst into flames at any moment. And at the edge of the courtyard, the Forest God and the antlered girl stand tense, as though expecting violence. There’s a brittle calm here, tension humming through the icy, broken spires of Castle Syntri.
I clear my throat. “I am still here to help. I remember enough to know Louhi must be stopped, that this realm hangs by a thread, and that we cannot afford to fail.”
“Alright,” Lovia says, coming over and taking my other hand in hers. She gives Tuoni a pointed look, and he reluctantly lets go of me. “We should get you settled. We have a lot of work to do around here and people to help, and you need… Well, you need clothes.”
I glance down. The gown I’m wearing is nothing more than gossamer, my body on full display. “What’s wrong with this?” I ask.
“You’re kind of naked,” she whispers.
I raise my brows, as if to say so what? What kind of Gods have such an issue with nudity?
“Perhaps it would be good for you to get settled,” Tuoni says. “You are planning to stay, aren’t you?”
I meet his eyes. “That is my purpose.”
He makes a grumbling sound and then nods at Lovia.
She gently takes my hand and leads me down the dim castle hallways. It is only now I realize how loud it was outside with the cries of the wounded, the stench of the dead. I saved them, but I arrived too late.
“Well, I know that wasn’t the welcome you were expecting,” Lovia begins as we walk down the hall, past a couple weeping soldiers.
“I wasn’t expecting anything,” I interject.
“I see,” she says. We step around broken columns, walking past chunks of stone punched out from the roof above, snow falling inside. “Regardless, we’re all glad you’re here. I was worried you might never show. So was my father. He really, really missed you, even if he doesn’t show it.”
“Show it,” I echo, pontificating the words. “He shows more than you think. You humans think you must wear your feelings like a cloak, but it is there for everyone to see.”
“Humans?” she cries out with a snort. “I am not a human. I’m a god.”
I look her over—the fire and pain in her eyes, the set of her jaw. “You are more human than god. That is your weakness.”
“I don’t have a weakness,” she says sharply, letting out a grunt of annoyance. “Come on, let’s go to my mother’s chambers. She left an array of dresses behind.”