Book Review: The End and the Death: Volume I by Dan Abnett
When I first picked up The End and the Death: Volume I, I wasn’t sure I was ready for it. I’ve been following the Siege of Terra books with a mix of fascination and confusion—fascination because the story is undeniably huge and full of weight, and confusion because, well, Warhammer lore is dense. I’m not a lifelong fan who’s read all sixty-plus Horus Heresy novels, but I’ve been along for this last arc, and I wanted to see how it all ends.
Dan Abnett’s name alone was enough to convince me. He’s one of those authors who somehow makes even the most sprawling, gothic, lore-heavy setting feel intimate and human. And with this book, the first part of the massive finale to the Horus Heresy, he really doubles down on that approach.
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The Story and Style
Right from the start, The End and the Death feels different. The earlier Siege of Terra volumes—by Abnett, Aaron Dembski-Bowden, Chris Wraight, and others—were massive war epics. This one is that too, but it’s also stranger, more introspective, and written with a literary edge you don’t always expect in Warhammer.
Abnett tells the story through a fractured lens: dozens of viewpoints, snippets of moments across the dying world of Terra, and a lot of shifting tone. Sometimes it’s cinematic, describing the last desperate battles of the Imperial Palace. Other times it’s deeply personal, quiet, and philosophical. Then, suddenly, you’re inside a character’s head in second person — especially Horus. Those second-person chapters were weird at first. They break the usual distance between reader and character, making you become the Warmaster for a while, to feel his descent, his certainty, his madness. It’s unsettling but kind of brilliant.
That fractured style is both the book’s strength and its challenge. As a newer reader, I sometimes felt lost—names, places, and references fly by, and Abnett doesn’t pause to explain. But the writing is so confident and evocative that I was carried along anyway. The structure mirrors the chaos of the moment: the Imperium collapsing, reality itself fraying, and the line between human and myth starting to blur.
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Tone and Themes
There’s a heaviness to this book that’s hard to shake. Everything feels final. The title, The End and the Death, isn’t just about the fall of the Emperor’s empire—it’s about the end of meaning, of order, of faith. Abnett captures that sense of apocalypse perfectly. Every page feels like the closing minutes of a dying age.
But despite that, it’s not all grim despair. What makes it powerful are the small sparks of light: courage, love, sacrifice, loyalty. Characters keep going even though they know they can’t win. That’s a theme that runs through all of Siege of Terra, but here it hits hardest.
Malcador, the Emperor’s right hand, gets some of the most compelling moments. His scenes feel almost spiritual—he’s a man holding the crumbling weight of a god’s dream, trying to keep the fire alive for just one more day. Sanguinius, meanwhile, embodies doomed heroism. Even if you’re only casually familiar with Warhammer, you probably know where his story is going, but Abnett still finds a way to make it heartbreaking.
And then there’s Horus. His portrayal is fascinating. You feel his rage, his pride, his clarity twisted into something dark. Abnett doesn’t just make him a villain; he makes him human, and that makes his fall all the more tragic.
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For Newer Readers
As someone still finding my footing in this universe, I appreciated how emotionally grounded the book is. Sure, there are moments that left me thinking, “Wait, who’s that again?” or “What’s this Legion doing here?” but that didn’t ruin the experience. The emotional throughline—this massive empire tearing itself apart from the inside out—comes across loud and clear.
That said, I wouldn’t recommend this as anyone’s first Warhammer book. It assumes you’ve read at least the previous Siege of Terra volumes, because it doesn’t waste time recapping. The story picks up right in the chaos, and Abnett trusts you to keep up. If you’ve come this far, though, it’s absolutely worth it.
One thing I loved was how Abnett writes scale. This isn’t just the fall of a city—it’s the end of a civilization that spans galaxies. Yet he constantly zooms in to show individuals: soldiers fighting hopeless battles, civilians praying in the rubble, warriors facing death with grim acceptance. Those human details make the cosmic scope believable.
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Pacing and Structure
If you’re expecting a nonstop action-fest, this might surprise you. The pacing is slow and deliberate. There are big, intense battles—some incredibly written—but Abnett spends as much time exploring thoughts and emotions as he does describing explosions. The book feels meditative, even poetic at times.
Some readers might find it dense or meandering. I did at points, but then I realized that was kind of the point. The world is unraveling, time and causality are breaking down, and the story mirrors that chaos. It’s disorienting, but it feels intentional.
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Writing and Prose
Even if you’re new to Warhammer, it’s impossible not to admire Abnett’s craft. He writes with a weight and rhythm that feels mythic but still readable. His descriptions of the dying Palace, of light and shadow, of gods walking among mortals—all of it feels biblical. You can tell he’s been building toward this for years, and there’s an emotional intensity behind every line.
There’s also something almost mournful about the way he writes the Emperor and Horus now. The whole book feels like watching a tragedy that’s already been written, but you can’t look away.
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Final Thoughts
As a newer Warhammer fan, The End and the Death: Volume I was both overwhelming and unforgettable. It’s not an easy read—there’s no hand-holding, and it demands your full attention—but the payoff is immense. It’s the kind of book that makes you sit in silence when you finish a chapter, just absorbing what you read.
Dan Abnett isn’t just closing out a storyline; he’s closing a myth. And somehow, he makes it feel deeply human. For all the talk of gods and primarchs, it’s really a story about people—flawed, scared, determined people trying to find meaning at the end of everything.
If you’ve read the earlier Siege of Terra books, even casually, this is an absolute must. It’s the darkest and most ambitious volume yet, but also the most emotionally powerful. It reminds you why this series has lasted so long—and why its ending actually matters.
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Final Verdict:
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️½ (4.5/5) — Dense but brilliant. A haunting, poetic beginning to the end of one of sci-fi’s greatest epics