Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 110034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
A cymbal crash of thunder makes me jump and Rasmus tugs me in through the giant awning of the rib cage. “Come on, the storm isn’t going anywhere.”
I stare up at the ribs as I pass underneath them, at the moss growing on them and the tiny mushrooms cropping up in places.
“Uh, whose ribs are these?”
“T-Rex or something like that,” he says.
“A T-Rex?” I repeat. “Are you sure?” I mean, the dinosaur was big, but a T-Rex didn’t have a ribcage large enough that you could walk through it.
“Don’t worry, this one died a long time ago,” he says. “Whatever it was.”
My worry about a bigger than normal T-Rex appearing and snatching me up in its jaws is quickly replaced by the smell getting even stronger as we step into darkness. It’s hard to tell if we’re inside dead creatures or going into a cave.
Rasmus keeps leading me forward until we come across stairs made of bone that spiral down into the earth. The further down we go the darker it gets until I’m blindly following Rasmus through the black.
Finally, we reach solid ground and stop.
“Where are we?” I whisper to him. Thankfully the smell seems to have dissipated, but the fact that I’m in the pitch-black underground somewhere has me feeling off-kilter again.
“Where Sammalta lives,” he whispers back. “Mushrooms feed on decay. And darkness. Hold on.”
I hear Rasmus rustling for something when suddenly my eyes focus on a spot of light right beside me. Slowly I see the outline of Rasmus’ fingers and realize that there’s a light emanating from inside his clenched fist.
“Mind your eyes,” he says to me and then he opens his hand.
There’s a glowing sphere on his palm that’s growing brighter and brighter, enough to make Rasmus wince but it doesn’t hurt my eyes at all.
“What is that?” I ask in wonder. It’s like he has the sun in his hand.
“It’s a sunmoonstone,” he says. Then he takes the sphere and winds up, pitching it forward like a baseball. I watch as the glowing stone flies straight through the air, illuminating the space it travels through, the light sticking around long after the sphere has sailed past.
I don’t even know where the sphere lands because I’m looking around me in awe as its soft light reveals the mushy lady’s home. Unlike the dirty, creepy underground tunnels and caverns of the Bone Stragglers, this place looks absolutely magical. The walls are made of bone and agate, dirt and moss, and there’s a network of mycelia stretching from floor to ceiling. They seem to glow and sparkle in the light, giving the illusion of being amongst sparkling lightning strikes.
The thought gives my heart a twist. They also remind me of the runes etched across Death’s body, the silver lines that pulsed when souls passed over. I had always thought that if I touched his runes that I would feel the energy pass through to me, but the truth is, all of Death felt like that. Every inch of him. I’m not sure I’d ever felt so alive than when my skin was pressed up against his.
The memory feels so vivid, so real, that my body grows hot, and it takes me a moment to realize I’m being spoken to.
“What?” I ask dumbly, bringing my head back to the present.
“I said you’re not what I had imagined.” It’s the mushy lady’s voice, but the cavern remains empty. Only the mycelia glows when she speaks, once again reminding me of Death.
“Oh,” I say, glancing at Rasmus. “What did you tell her?”
“He said that you’re beautiful,” she answers for him.
“Oh…” I’m vaguely flattered that Rasmus would have said that about me, though I feel like she means this as an insult.
“And you are quite beautiful, for a mortal, I suppose,” she says reluctantly. “It’s just that you have another quality that he didn’t even mention. A quality which makes sense as to why he would go to such lengths to save you from Death.”
I want to point out that I didn’t need saving but I swallow down my pride. I eye Rasmus. He looks perplexed, gnawing on his bottom lip. “And what quality might that be?” I ask.
“Magic,” she says to my surprise. “It’s in every cell of your blood. It shines like the sun.”
“I told you, she is the daughter of a powerful shaman,” Rasmus says. “Torben Heikkinen.”
“I know Torben,” mushy lady says cautiously. “He is not a stranger to this land. Our paths have crossed many times, Hanna. To my surprise though, he has never mentioned you. I didn’t quite believe it when Rasmus had said you were his daughter, but now that you are here, I feel it so clearly.”
“He was probably trying to protect me,” I tell her, hoping that was the case and not that he was ashamed at having a very unmagical mortal for a daughter.