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)
And there is Tuonen inside of the crevice, his head barely above the fire, his arms hanging on to the edge for dear life, but slipping, slowly slipping.
“Tuonen!” I scream, running and diving onto the ground, sliding across the cave floor, arms outstretched for him.
My fingers just brush the tips of his.
I almost reach him.
I almost have him.
I almost…
Then he screams as he slips, disappearing into the fires below until his screams abruptly go out.
“No,” I whisper, staring at the dark void. My son. My boy.
“No!” I roar, scrambling so that I’m staring over the edge into flames that fan and then fade into nothingness.
Lovia reaches my side, her face pale and stricken. “He was fighting alongside me,” she says, her voice trembling. “He was here, I turned away…”
She breaks off, her composure shattering.
I stare into the abyss. The cavern feels impossibly silent. The victory, the relief—it all turns to ash in my mouth.
“Tuonen!” I shout, my voice raw. It echoes back to me, hollow and mocking.
Lovia places a trembling hand on my shoulder. “He…he might still be alive,” she says softly. “There might be a way to…”
Her words falter, but I seize on them, clinging to the faintest hope.
“He’s not gone,” I say, rising to my feet. “I’ll find him. I’ll go after him.”
“Tuoni,” Hanna begins, but I cut her off.
“I will find him,” I say, my voice resolute. “This isn’t over.”
The others exchange uneasy glances, but no one argues. The weight of the moment presses down on all of us. We may have defeated Rangaista, but the cost was higher than I was ever willing to give.
My son.
My son!
As the cavern grows darker, I stare into the void, my resolve hardening. But the void stares back at me, silent and impenetrable. My heart pounds against my ribs, each beat a hammer of denial. Tuonen cannot be gone. My son cannot be lost. He is too strong, too clever. He has survived too much for it to end like this.
The silence mocks me. Even the echoes of my calls have faded, swallowed by the abyss. Hanna’s hand tightens on my shoulder, her touch warm and grounding, but I feel no comfort. Around us, the soldiers shift uneasily. They are afraid, not just for what we’ve lost, but for what comes next. Where am I leading them? How can I protect them if I can’t even protect my own son?
How does a God of Death grieve for his own blood?
Lovia stands frozen beside me, her eyes locked on the fissure, her chin trembling. “We’ll find him,” she says, her voice hollow but insistent. “There has to be a way.”
Before I can respond, the ground beneath us trembles. A deep, guttural noise rises from the fissure, a sound like stone grinding against bone. Soldiers step back, weapons raised, their nerves frayed to the breaking point. The cavern feels alive again, pulsing with a dark, ominous energy.
Then, with a violent burst, something erupts from the crack. Rocks and debris fly into the air, and everyone ducks for cover. A wave of acrid heat washes over us, and the cavern fills with a choking, sulfurous stench. I shield Lovia instinctively, my body reacting before my mind can process the moment.
When the dust settles, I see it. Not a monster or another attack, but a lifeless form.
Tuonen.
His body lies sprawled on the ground, thrown from the depths like an offering—or a mockery. His skin is marred with deep gashes and searing burns, one of his horns is broken in half, jagged and raw, and his once bright eyes are dull, staring at nothing.
“Tuonen!” Lovia screams, rushing to his side. She collapses beside him, her shaking hands hovering over his chest as if afraid to touch him, afraid to confirm what she already knows. Her breath comes in gasps, sharp and ragged. “No, no, no…”
I stand frozen, the world narrowing to this single, impossible sight. My son, my blood, lies before me, lifeless. The cavern feels colder, emptier, as if the air itself mourns. Slowly, I kneel beside Lovia, my hands quivering as I reach for him.
“Tuonen,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “My boy…”
My fingers brush his face, cool and unresponsive. There is no trace of the mischievous spark that once lit his eyes, no sign of the defiance that had driven him to challenge even me. He is gone, and the weight of that truth crushes me until I fear my heart is lost to Oblivion too.
Lovia presses her hands to his chest, as if she can will his heart to beat again. “He can’t be gone,” she chokes out. “No. No, no. He can’t be. He’s Tuonen. He’s strong. He always comes back. He—” Her words dissolve into sobs, raw and desperate.
Hanna steps forward, her face pale and stricken. She kneels on Tuonen’s other side, her hands glowing faintly with golden light. “I can try,” she says, her voice tight with determination. “I can try to bring him back. Perhaps I have that power.”