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)
Which means he sabotaged us. A fucking traitor. But why? Did he serve Louhi all along, or did the sampo’s dark magic corrupt him? What was he really crafting?
I have no time for these questions now.
Survival comes first.
“Everyone!” I shout, my voice carrying over the crackle of wards. “Prepare for attack! The wards are failing, and we don’t know how much longer we have!”
The sound of weapons being drawn fills the air. The Magician steps into the dim light with Lovia beside him, sword at the ready. Hanna stands near me, pale and tense. I see Tellervo’s jaw tighten—she says nothing, but she lifts her hands, and I can sense her calling on the forest again, coaxing them to protect their last remaining God.
With a final crackle, the wards fail. The shimmering boundary pops like a bubble, leaving us exposed. Torchlight and lantern glow reveal a half-circle of skeletal warriors, their hollow eyes glowing. They surge forward with clacking jaws and clattering armor, ad behind them, I sense more shapes lurking, perhaps Old Gods waiting for the right moment. For a second, the thought weighs on me like a hammer, and I’m so fucking weary of it all, tired of this continuous fight.
But my resolve only bends for a moment. I think of Tuonen and Sarvi and driving a sword through Louhi’s eyeballs, and that’s enough.
“Form ranks!” I bellow, stepping forward. My sword gleams dully in the uncertain light. Soldiers close in, shields raised as the skeleton horde rushes us. Steel clashes with bone as we meet them head-on. Sparks fly, shouts and curses filling the air. I parry a skeleton’s spear, shatter its ribs with a swift strike, and move on to the next one.
Hanna deflects a sword stroke aimed at Lovia’s back, her eyes fierce despite her lingering guilt. Lovia stands strong, cutting down two skeletons with fluid grace. The Magician weaves strands of starlight to snare a knot of skeletons, holding them still while Rasmus and Torben hurl bolts of spiritual energy to shatter them, their magic now freed since they no longer have the wards to contend with.
But more skeletons pour in from the sides. The forest confines us, roots and trunks limiting our movement. We fight desperately, pushing forward to escape the choke point. One of the Keskelli hurls her spear at a tall Bone Straggler, splintering its skull.
Meanwhile, Tellervo stands behind us, arms raised, calling a name I’ve never heard her utter: “Olso!”
The ground trembles in response. A deep growl resonates through the forest floor as branches creak and leaves quiver. A colossal shape emerges from the darkness—a giant bear the size of a troll, thick with fur and moss-laden, eyes glowing with old magic. Olso, summoned by Tellervo’s plea. The bear bellows, a thunderous roar that shakes skeletons apart. With massive paws, it swipes a line of the undead into splinters.
Our soldiers cheer. With Olso breaking their ranks, we gain ground. Step by step, we push through the forest. The skeletons press in from all sides, but the bear’s sheer strength carves a path while Torben creates a ward around it that deflects swords and spears. I fight near Hanna, watching the hesitant but determined strikes from her sword. She still struggles with her power, I can tell, but she’s here, helping in any way she can.
We crash through a thicket of brambles, driven forward, the skeletons moving back. The forest thins, the undergrowth clearing with it. Ahead, I see open space, the edge of the Hiisi Forest. Beyond lies the Liekkiö Plains, the vast desert where demon children burn with eternal flame. They roam at night, biting and clawing travelers, but we have no choice. Sticking to the forest means less space to maneuver—plus, I have no qualms about kicking those fiery kids’ heads clean off.
We burst into open ground under a sky just starting to lighten with a false dawn. We continue to drive the skeleton army backward, rattling and clacking, while Olso lumbers behind us, growling and swiping at anyone who dares to approach. Tellervo is pale, her lips pressed tight in concentration—controlling or guiding the giant bear must cost her dearly.
The Liekkiö Plains spread out in front of us, flat, dusty, eerily silent, and thankfully devoid of any demonic brats. Perhaps they fear the approaching undead—or maybe they’re waiting for a better moment.
A shout goes up from a soldier on the flank: “Look! Over there!”
I turn, squinting. In the distance, I see figures approaching—a column of allies, led by Vellamo and her trolls and the small contingent of troops running toward us across the dusty plains. I had told her to wait by the river, but I’ve never been so grateful she’s stubborn.
We wave them in, signaling for them to approach carefully. Vellamo greets us with a curt nod, relief in her eyes. I notice the horn in one of the Keskelli’s giant hands. It must have been them we heard the other day, but they were too far away. It doesn’t matter; we are stronger now, bolstered by fresh blades and sturdy trolls.