Page 78 of North Is the Night
“Mice see just fine in the dark,” she calls down. With that, she shuts the trap door.
“No, wait—”
Above me, Loviatar moves the loom back overtop the trap door. I feel dust slipping down through the cracks, landing on my hood, tickling my nose. I step out from under the door, trying to force my eyes to see through this darkness, but it’s impossible.
“Ilmatar, guide my steps,” I whisper, moving on soft feet.
The smell of damp earth surrounds me, settling in my nose. I can’t see, but I can feel the closeness of the tunnel’s sides. I reach out with both hands, brushing them with my fingers. Each step is cautious as I test the ground. After several long minutes, I stifle a shriek when my toes hit something hard. I reach out, fumbling forward until I touch a second set of wooden steps. I crawl up them, feeling for the outline of the trap door. Putting an ear to it, I wait and listen for sound.
There is nothing. No birdsong, no wind in the trees.
Using my shoulder, I push against the door. It takes a couple attempts before the hinges creak and the wood gives way. A dusting of dirt and snow fall in on me, making me gasp. I push the door all the way open and crawl out on hands and knees. I scramble to my feet and dust off my dress, peering around. The snow seems to glow the softest white, as if it’s reflecting light from an unseen moon and stars. It’s a beautiful kind of magic, and it’s more than enough to guide my steps.
If only I knew where I was going...
The trees are thick here—birch and aspen, dotted with spruce and pine. I hate the way the knots of the birch trees always watch me with unblinking eyes. I do another slow spin, clutching my hood, pulling it tighter against the chill. Peering through the dark, I can see the outline of a wooden hill. Loviatar promises that beyond the hill lies the river of death. In all my time in Tuonela, I have yet to see it.
My heart sinks. Now I have nothing but time, for I’m about to make a bargain with death that will trap me here forever. My life for their lives—Siiri and Helmi, Riina, Satu, all the girls who may ever face Kalma’s wrath. But I think that’s the difference between the Witch Queen and me. Tuonetar thinks all death must be chaos. In her mind, death is merely a means forherto claim more power.
I disagree. Death can be meaningful. Death can be a choice. We can choose to die as we live. There is power in that choice, power in death that Tuonetar in her cruelty can never understand, for she has never truly lived. I am choosing to thwart her, knowing I may die. But I will die knowing there are things worth dying for, and she cannot take that power from me.
The trees stand quiet, unmoved by wind. Snow clings to their bare branches. I take a few steps forward, letting fate guide me. “Tuoni?” I whisper his name, feeling a sort of power pass over my lips. “Tuoni... my lord... I come of my own free will.”
Behind me, a shadow swoops out of the darkness, and I duck. Something large flies over me, stirring the air with its wings. Swallowing my scream, I cover my head with my hands just as a loud caw breaks the silence. I look up to see my raven perched on the low bough of a pine tree. “Jaako,” I say, breathless with relief. “Oh, thank the gods. Show me the way.”
He ruffles his feathers and swoops away through the trees. Holding up the bottom of my woolen dress, I run after him. I trip over roots and rocks hidden by the snow, doing my best to keep up. He caws softly, encouraging me to follow.
“How much farther, Jaako,” I pant. “How much—”
There, not fifteen feet from me, stands a lonely alder tree, its base lit by the soft, undisturbed snow. I narrow my eyes, inching closer as I take in the strangeness of its trunk. A man stands in the shadow of it. No, he’s not in front of the tree. He’spartof it. Over time, the tree has grown around him, rooting him in place.
“Ilmatar, give me strength,” I whisper to the dark.
I know well the stories of the alder tree. Some people call it the “death tree.” It has deep ties to Tuonela. My father often carves sielulintu from a piece of alder that we bury with the village dead. The birds carved from alder branches make good guides as souls pass through the realms.
As I stand before the tree, I know with all certainty that I’m standing before the god of death. This tree is his prison.
Behind me, Jaako emits another caw. Swooping past me, he flies towards the tree. Just before he reaches it, he disappears, falling in a flurry of black feathers to the snow.
“Jaako, no—” I rush forward. Dropping to my knees, I pick up a feather. “No, please. I need you.” I peer all around, searching for the raven in the trees. “Jaako—”
Before me, the alder tree groans. I scramble back to my feet and step closer, taking in the ghastly sight of the god trapped in the tree. The alder’s bark has all but swallowed him. His arms look like they’ve been chained above his head. The rest of the tree grows around his head and shoulders, locking his jaw shut. “Gods...” I inch closer. “How long have you been trapped here, my lord?”
He cannot move. He can’t speak. But he can see. The god of death gazes down at me. My free hand trembles as I brush my fingers across his furrowed brow. One eye is dark as night, the other clouded and pearly white. A thick, pronged scar crosses the white eye from cheek to brow, leaving it sightless. He has a proud nose, a bearded face, hair black as a raven’s wing. The tree is claiming that too. His skin is dusted with lichen. Our eyes lock, and bone-deep knowledge shivers through me.
“Jaako?” I whisper, awed by the truth. My raven isn’t a messenger for the god of death. Somehow, heisthe god of death. “Tuoni.” I say the god’s name, watching as his eyes shut tight. He’s suffering, his face pained. I brush my fingers over his brow again. “Look at me, my lord.”
The intensity of his dark eye is fathomless, like Tuonela’s sky, while the cloudy one is as radiant as a full moon.
“I’m going to free you,” I say, heart racing. “But the only way I know how to do that is if I marry you.”
His jaw clenches tight as he grunts, fighting his cage. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want me.
“We neither of us have a choice,” I say, my shame rising. “You know as well as I that the only way Tuonetar can be stopped is if we break her curse.”
The tree creaks as he struggles.
“I won’t pretend to know all of what has happened here,” I go on. “But I know enough to know I trust Loviatar... and she trusts you.” This stills him. “Let me help free you, so you can free us. Are we agreed?”
