“In the end,” she continues, “his mother decided the best thing for her would be to wait and see what would become of him. So she had her daughter take the baby out of Tuonela. Left him at a hospital, where mortals would eventually adopt him, take care of him. But even though the shaman never knew he had a child born in another realm, the baby found its way to the shaman anyway. When he was old enough. When he was ready to be trained. When the shaman needed an apprentice.” The last sentence makes my blood run cold. Rasmus was my father’s apprentice. My father, the shaman.
