Christopher Ruocchio’s Kingdoms of Death, book four of The Sun Eater flips the series on its head. What if Hadrian is wrong about being able to negotiate with the Cielcin? What if his new found powers were used against him? What if there’s another chose one? Startlingly bleak, full of torture, and gorgeous prose interlining the book like silver thread, Kingdoms of Death moves beyond simple darkness and into the black, cold void of space. 

“I had defied the Prince of Princes, and all would see the consequences of that defiance.”

Kingdoms of Death is absolutely brutal. Not in the military way of armies and blood (although, we do have that here), but in the way of scalpels and starvation. Most of this book revolves around the trapped Hadrian being tormented and dialoguing with his tormentors. As a premise, it sounds both boring and vulgar, but it works shockingly well. Hadrian and the leader of his captors have dialogue exchanges that I could have read hundreds of pages of, and Ruocchio’s prose keeps everything sharp and compulsively readable. 

Instead of battle and victory, Kingdoms of Death is suffering and defeat. Pain and torment. Anguish. Misery. To some, that will be off-putting, but there is beauty in the wretchedness. Hadrian’s relentless will to live is equal parts inspiring and tragic. The themes of survival and grief sharpened to a fine point. A plot meticulously crafted. Kingdoms of Death is a big success in what it seeks to do.

What surprised the most about Kingdoms of Death is the improvement in Ruochioo’s prose. He’s always been in the upper echelon, but the way his pen weaves, shines, and darkens, it can only be compared to silver or moonlight. It’s beautiful stuff, even though the book is pretty relentlessly dark. 

This is the shortest book in The Sun Eater, and it’s also its most profound. It’s quiet, it’s grief heavy, it’s the silent step at night. The character study of Hadrian has changed direction and grown even more, and the thematic work is genius. Ruocchio is breathing rarefied air here. 

Finally, what’s so impressive in Kingdoms of Death is its ability to make you feel. By the end, you’ve had your heart broken and your anger stirred to a full on maelstrom. That’s the mark of a truly great book, and a truly great cast of characters. 

“We are all shaped by our suffering. That we are only what we are is ever our chiefest sin.”

Kingdoms of Death is a great book, but I did have a small critique of the ending. Originally, Ruochhio intended for both Kingdoms of Death and Ashes of Man to be one book. It grew too large, and as a result, he had to split them into two tales. While Kingdoms of Death is a complete tale, the tonal shift from 75% on felt a bit sudden, but we’re also not given enough time to fully be immersed in the switch. 

It’s a small critique, and for Sun Eater fans who have been hoping Ruocchio goes just a bit darker, the prose gets even better, and the characters even more nuanced, making this is a home run. Kingdoms of Death is not the roaring applause and rousing victory of Demon in White, it’s the whisper in the night. Horrifying, bleak, gloomy, and melancholic, Kingdoms of Death is a treat for sci-fi, Sun Eater, and grimdark fans alike. 

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