She was called the Dragon Princess by her people, sometimes with contempt, and sometimes with reverence. But 700 years before the Empire's cannon pierced the dragon's breast, there was another girl. Threatened by an evil dragon, the people of a small kingdom formed a pact with a Divine Dragon and flourished under its protection. Brunhild is born into the house of the Dragon Priestesses—the only ones in the land who can understand the dragon's words. Like her mother and her mother's mother before her, she serves the Divine Dragon, cleaning his temple, listening to his sacred words, and gratefully offering him tribute: seven people every month.
I absolutely loved the first book but I have mixed feelings about this one. My biggest issue with this book is the pacing. In the first half of the book so many thing happens and they happen and resolve at a speed that makes it feel like I'm reading a summary of events instead of a book. While I was surprised they just directly admitted it in the afterword I was not surprised to learn that the author did in fact "when it comes to writing, endeavor to not hold out on things".
This book definitely could have benefited from either the author having more restraint on what to include with what limited pages I assume they had or from more pages to fit all the author's ideas. The thing is though, I actually really liked all the ideas and especially all the different themes presented by the book. Some of it really does speak to me personally. I'm also quite a fan of the prose. By the climax of the book I also found myself being satisfied by how the character arcs were resolved. Overall, I did enjoy reading this book and I'm still excited to read the author's future works.
When it comes to sequels, Brunhild the Dragon Princess might just have one of the most intriguing structural choices I’ve come across in a long time. Rather than picking up where the last book left off, it offers what feels like an alternate-history retelling: the same world, the same core characters—Brunhild, Sigurd, Sven—but placed into a subtly reimagined context. The mythology remains largely intact—dragons still serve as God’s appointed guardians of Eden, a place where humans also reside—but it’s reframed in clever and sometimes unsettling ways. This time, we learn that there are two kinds of humans: those created in Eden in God’s image, and those who evolved from apes. It’s a provocative twist that adds to the world’s spiritual hierarchy, but also lays the groundwork for a deeply emotional what-if: What if a dragon and a human did give in to love, and fled Eden in fear of divine punishment? The story that follows is both ambitious and absorbing. Even though a few plot twists feel familiar (like the reveal that humans can turn into black dragons, which hints early on that the white god-dragon is likely pulling the strings), the pacing is far more polished than in Volume 1. The writing is tighter, the emotions more clearly drawn, and the narrative more focused. There are still multiple POVs—Fafnir, Brunhild, Sigurd, Sven—but this time, the transitions are smooth and meaningful, giving each character the space they need to develop without confusion or clutter.
Like the first volume, this one is full of twists: the revelation that the god-dragon demands human sacrifices, that he summons the dragons himself, that Sigurd’s betrayal is actually the result of possession, and that Brunhild’s divine powers awaken through Fafnir’s help. All of this works well to build momentum, even if the story sometimes feels a bit overloaded—certain developments, like Brunhild and Sigurd crossing the wall in search of dragons, or Brunhild’s connection to Emilia, get rushed through like items on a checklist. That brings me to the book’s most consistent weakness: while the core four characters are well-realized, the rest of the world still feels oddly empty. This is a kingdom, after all, full of people with ambitions, conflicts, and desires—but they only seem to act when the protagonists need them to. Unlike in Volume 1, where the world felt alive and messy, here it feels oddly static, as if frozen in place to accommodate the main cast.
What does work, and continues to be the series’ greatest strength, is its commitment to tragedy—though this time, it leans more bittersweet than outright devastating. Once again, most of the cast doesn’t make it to the end. Sven dies a hero, satisfied that he never raised his sword against his lord. Sigurd takes his own life to make Brunhild appear as the savior of the realm. And Brunhild herself, once a dragon priestess, then a dragon slayer, now becomes the kingdom’s protector—giving her life in a final act of self-sacrifice to keep dragons at bay. There’s something haunting in the irony of her arc. Once, she helped the dragon stage a ritualized protection of the kingdom through human sacrifice - now, she hunts dragons herself. She fulfills her duty in the end—but she dies far from the innocence she once had, surrounded only by Fafnir, with a sense of peace that’s still a far cry from the future she dreamed of.
I do wish, though, that the god-dragon had gotten more narrative space. His backstory—his forbidden love for a human woman, mirrored in his feelings for Brunhild—is mentioned often, but we never truly feel it. The story never dives deep into his perspective, which is a shame, because his arc has tragic potential: a creature who fled Eden out of love, only to be cursed into devouring the very species he once cherished. There’s a deep well of pain there, but we’re only shown the surface. Fafnir, on the other hand, quietly becomes one of the most compelling characters. He bookends the story—present in both the prologue and epilogue—and serves not as a traditional hero, but as a steady presence beside Brunhild. He’s not strong, clever, or particularly charismatic he’s not loyal in the same way Sven is. What drives him is something more fragile: the hope that, someday, he might be able to love her. But even that never fully materializes. He spends the entire story searching for his feelings—and never quite finds them, not in his bond with Sven, not in his affection for Brunhild, not in the world itself. The only thing he does find is belief. Having lived his life as an atheist, his worldview shatters when he sees Brunhild saved by divine power. In the end, the only wish he can voice is a simple one: to find a paradise like Eden, where people live in harmony. It’s a dream that never comes true, but the fact that he spends his life searching for it, despite everything, gives the story its most quietly powerful note—that sense of bittersweet incompletion that lingers long after the final page.
That said, this volume lacks the emotional high points of its predecessor. Nothing quite reaches the devastating impact of Brunhild’s goodbye to her adoptive father at the end of Volume 1. The emotional build-up doesn’t always land, and while the stakes are high, the resonance isn’t always there. Still, I’d say I enjoyed this installment more overall—mainly because it’s just a smoother, more satisfying read. The pacing works better, the character arcs are clearer, and I found myself more consistently drawn in by the storytelling. Brunhild the Dragon Princess and Brunhild the Dragon Slayer each have their own strengths and weaknesses, and both are worth reading for very different reasons. One final volume remains, and I’m honestly curious—maybe even a little nervous—about where it’ll take things next.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.