A Day of Fallen Night (The Roots of Chaos #0.1)

by Samantha Shannon

Inys had filled and emptied her. It was all done. Her purpose served. If she wanted, she could die.

‘Wretch of cold and ardent blood. Bearer of the star.’ Its eyes were still afire. ‘From the darkness comes a doom.’ A rattle of its cloven tongue. ‘We will return. Be certain, Shieldheart. When the fire rises anew, when our master stirs in the Abyss, when another wears your crown, we will return. Breathe in your ruin and your ashes. Live in fear.’

and then leapt herself, into the

moil of monstrosities.

Tunuva gazed at her in wonder. It was as if Esbar was drawing the Womb of Fire through her body – as if she herself had become the Dreadmount. Washtu, come again. Saghul had chosen well.

The rainbow had finally come to its end.

Where does tane come frommmmm

The comet was in all of them, and they were all soaked in it, as the stars descended. Drenched in fallen night.

furnace in the wyrm. Taugran the Golden was dead before it even started falling. Red fires blew out across the island. Light turned to darkness, pierced by the tempest of stars.

You will be the first Berethnet queen who has that truth within her.

And he prayed, not to the Saint, but to the Mother.

silver thread had unravelled within her, and with it, the voice in her dream disappeared.

face the body – once had been enough – but Esbar had told her later that the birds had come to mourn him, singing a sweet dirge over his grave.

‘So you not only took my birthson, but almost estranged me from the two people I love most in this world.’

‘I forgave you before I asked.’ Esbar touched her cheek. ‘You are a sun to people like Canthe. It is your nature to warm all you see, and the sun does not ask forgiveness for shining.’

Inys had lost at least half of its people, with more still falling prey to the plague. Finding

‘Tuva told me to send her love to you.’ She linked his arm. ‘You know, our birthmothers slew Dedalugun.’ ‘They did?’ Siyu nodded. ‘No one else will ever know, but it was Esbar and Tuva.’

Canthe had laughed with him, translated for him, reunited him with Tunuva. All the while, it had been her.

Glorian Shieldheart, who had sacrificed herself to Fýredel, only for its flame to wither before her. Some said her willingness to die had called the comet from the heavenly court – the light of Ascalun, sent by the Saint, to cut down the servants of evil once more.

She could have killed him when he started to howl. A blade would have been a kinder fate, but he had taught her to savour all poetry. He had been the one who sought to set his blood on fire.

In a time of starlight, fire must rise.’