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“Didn’t you know that you can’t kill the universe?” the Magician says.
Rasmus snarls and tries to twist away from the arrow’s tip, just as another child skeleton lunges for me. I kick the kid in the chest, breaking ribs and sending them backward while Rasmus tries to fight the Magician off.
The Magician moves back, waving his hands in a sweeping manner, and suddenly, long, pale tendrils shoot out of theground at Rasmus’ feet and wrap around his legs with startling ferocity.
Rasmus yelps and tries to move after the Magician, but the tendrils move like lightning, snaking up his legs, around his waist, to his arms, holding him in place.
Mycelium, I think just as another child hurls itself at me.
But now, the Magician is coming toward me, waving his arms in an outward manner as more of the mycelium reaches outward from the earth, wrapping around the Liekkiö until they’re entirely covered in a throbbing network of fungi fibers. The mycelium shoot inside their skulls like a living nightmare, choking the incessant screams right out of them.
Then, the Magician comes over to me and reaches down, grabbing me by the elbows and hoisting me up to my feet.
“Loviatar, are you alright?” he asks me, hands firmly on my shoulders. I swear, if he wasn’t holding me, I’d probably crumble.
“I was supposed to be the one protecting you,” I tell him feebly.
“You can pay me back,” he says. He looks down at my leg. “Best to leave that in for now. If I pull it out, you’ll lose more blood.”
“I’m the Goddess of Death,” I whisper. My title sounds so weak. “It can’t kill me…can it?”
His face swirls, crescent moons forming where his eyes should be. “Take nothing for granted anymore. The Tuonela we know and love is gone. We’ll get you to the Forest Gods; they’ll have something to help you. This much I know.”
He looks over at the children taken over by the fungi, and then to Rasmus, still held in place on his feet, the mycelium strands wrapped around him all the way to his nose. He stares at us with a mix of broken anger and fear, both emotions cycling on his brow while he’s breathing hard through his nose.
“How did you do that?” I ask the Magician. “Command the mycelium?”
A shooting star flits across the lower half of his face.
“There are some things I can do. The mycelium network is strong, and so is my network. They listen to me, and I listen to them, and occasionally, they will help if it suits them. I suppose it suited them today.”
“What do we do with him?” I say, nodding at Rasmus.
“We could leave him here,” the Magician says, to which Rasmus lets out a muffled cry. “See how long a half-God will last in this place. But I think he needs to come with us.”
I grunt at that, not too enthused about having him along. “He seems like a liability.”
“He could be, he could be,” he muses. “Or he could help us.”
“Do you really think he’s going to help us?” I ask, putting my hand on my hip, though the movement puts more weight on my leg. I wince at the sharp pain.
“We could make him. I realize that sounds like a threat, but these times deserve threats. The other gods,ourgods, they could make him. You might be able to make him, too. Otherwise, he’s leverage.”
“Do you really think Louhi will care if he lives or dies? He hasn’t been in her clutches very long. I’m her daughter, and she was willing to have me killed.” I say that so easily, as if it doesn’t secretly wound me inside, as if I’m not burning up at my own mother’s betrayal. “I think we could kill Rasmus and it wouldn’t change a thing for her.”
“Are you sure about that? She’s hung onto him for a reason. Rasmus might play a part in our lives we’re unsure of yet.”
I squint at the universe of his face, watching the spinning moons as they orbit planets. “How much do you know? What is it that you’re not telling me?”
“There is much I am not telling you, Loviatar,” he says to me, his voice kind. “But that is only because it would be too much for your mind, even the mind of a goddess, even one as sharp as yours. Not all knowledge is helpful or good for everyone.” He pauses and runs his hand down my arm to my hand and gives it a squeeze. His gloves are soft, his grip strong and surprisingly warm. “But I can tell you that what has started can be finished. We just need to keep going, and having Rasmus might help us more than hurt us in the end.”
Though his words are cryptic, they still bring comfort. At least he’s still alive and by my side. I’ve never been very sure if I can truly trust the Magician—my cynical nature combined with his ambiguous persona doesn’t help—but I think I finally do.
If this is truly the end of our world, I guess you should probably trust someone in your last days.
“Alright,” I say. “How do we do this?”
Still holding my hand, he leads me through the forest of frozen fungi children and over to Rasmus.
