Samantha Shannon took a massive gamble. When you write an 800-page "feminist retelling" of Saint George and the Dragon that becomes a global TikTok sensation, the pressure to replicate that specific magic is suffocating. Most authors would just write a direct sequel. They’d follow Ead and Sabran into the sunset. But Shannon didn't do that. Instead, she went backward. She gave us A Day of Fallen Night, a prequel set five centuries before the events of The Priory of the Orange Tree, and honestly? It might be the superior book. It’s denser, darker, and feels way more grounded in the messy reality of how myths are actually born.
A lot of people were intimidated by the sheer size of this thing. It’s a literal brick. But if you’ve actually sat down with it, you know the pacing feels different than Priory. It’s not just a quest story. It’s a disaster novel.
The Grief of the Griefless
The heart of A Day of Fallen Night isn't just the return of the wyrms. It’s the internal collapse of the characters before the first spark of fire even hits the ground. Take Tunuva Melim. She’s spent fifty years training at the Priory, waiting for a war that everyone told her was over. She’s a warrior without a battlefield. When the Dreadmount finally erupts—an event known as the Grief of the Griefless—it isn't just a military threat. It’s a spiritual crisis. Shannon captures that specific "what now?" feeling better than almost any other high fantasy writer working today.
You’ve got four main perspectives here: Tunuva in the South, Glorian in the East, Dumai in the West, and Wulf in the North. Usually, in these massive doorstoppers, there’s one POV you want to skip. You know the feeling. You finish a chapter on a cliffhanger and then realize you have to slog through sixty pages of a character you don't care about just to get back to the good stuff. Surprisingly, that doesn't happen here as much. Each storyline feels like its own distinct genre.
Dumai’s chapters feel like a climbing expedition mixed with a political thriller. She’s on Seiiki, a mountain-top kingdom where people believe the gods live in the clouds. But these gods are just dragons. They’re physical, breathing, temperamental creatures. When they stop waking up, the entire social fabric of the island starts to fray. It’s a brilliant look at how religion functions when the "divine" is a tangible part of the ecosystem.
Why the Prequel Format Actually Works Here
Usually, prequels feel like homework. You’re just checking off boxes to see how the world got to Point A. "Oh, so that’s why that sword is called that." It can be tedious. But A Day of Fallen Night succeeds because it treats its ending as a tragedy rather than a foregone conclusion. We know the world survives because Priory exists, but we don't know who these specific people have to become to make that happen.
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The magic system is also fleshed out in a way that feels more visceral. In the earlier book (later chronologically), the Priory’s use of "sider" magic feels almost like a lost art. Here, it’s raw. It’s dangerous. Shannon doesn't shy away from the physical toll this takes on the body.
The Mid-Book Pivot
About halfway through, the book shifts from a slow-burn character study into a full-blown apocalypse. This is where Shannon’s research into historical disasters shines. She’s cited the 1815 eruption of Mount Tambora as an inspiration for how the ash clouds affect the global climate in the book. It’s not just "dragons are scary." It’s "the sun is gone, the crops are failing, and everyone is starving." That level of detail makes the high-fantasy elements feel heavy and real.
If you're reading this for the romance—which, let's be real, many Shannon fans are—it’s there, but it’s strained. The relationship between Tunuva and Esbar is one of the most mature depictions of long-term partnership in the genre. They’ve been together for decades. They have shorthand. They have old wounds. It’s a stark contrast to the "star-crossed lovers" trope we see in most YA-adjacent fantasy.
The Problem With the Names
Okay, let's be honest. The naming conventions are a nightmare. If you don't have the glossary open, you’re going to get lost. You have the Berethnets, the Ichiryuu, the heirs of this and the scions of that. It’s a lot. If you’re a casual reader, the first 100 pages might feel like you’re trying to read a textbook in a language you only 40% understand.
But there’s a payoff.
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Shannon builds her world through linguistic layers. The way characters in the North talk about the "Nameless One" is fundamentally different from how the South views the "Great Foe." It shows how information decays over distance. This is the E-E-A-T (Experience, Expertise, Authoritativeness, Trustworthiness) of world-building. She isn't just telling you the world is big; she’s showing you how big it is by how much people misunderstand each other.
The Contrast of the Queens
Glorian is perhaps the most tragic figure in the whole Roots of Chaos cycle. She’s the Princess of Inis, born into a line of women who are told their only purpose is to birthed the next queen so the world doesn't end. It’s reproductive labor framed as divine duty.
Watching her grapple with that—especially when the dragons actually arrive—is gut-wrenching. She isn't a warrior. She’s a kid who has been told she is a shield, and when the shield cracks, the prose becomes incredibly claustrophobic. It’s a sharp commentary on the burden of "chosen one" narratives.
Is It Better Than Priory?
This is the big debate in the fandom. The Priory of the Orange Tree is a complete, self-contained epic. It’s satisfying. But A Day of Fallen Night feels more sophisticated. The prose is sharper. The stakes feel more personal even though the scale is larger.
It’s a bit like comparing The Hobbit to The Silmarillion, though obviously more accessible than the latter. If Priory is the myth, Fallen Night is the history. It’s messy, it’s long, and it doesn't always have a happy ending for everyone involved.
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Technical Mastery in Fantasy Writing
Shannon’s ability to handle four diverging plotlines and bring them together without it feeling like a coincidence is a masterclass in plotting. She uses a technique often seen in classic literature where a minor object in one POV becomes a major plot point in another. A letter sent in a Dumai chapter might not arrive for another two hundred pages in a Wulf chapter, but when it does, the impact is doubled because we saw the cost of sending it.
The dragons themselves are also handled with more nuance here. We see the "Fyredrakes" not just as monsters, but as a biological plague. They carry "the sickness," a corrupting force that turns the land into a wasteland. It turns the war into a medical crisis as much as a physical one.
What You Should Do Before Reading
If you're planning to dive into this 800-page beast, don't just wing it. You'll get frustrated.
- Check the map constantly. The geography of the Abyss vs. the Queendom of Inis is crucial to understanding why certain armies can't reach each other.
- Don't skip the "Dramatis Personae." Seriously. There are over 50 named characters with complex titles. Keep a finger in the back of the book.
- Read it as a standalone first. You don't actually need to read Priory first. In fact, reading this first might make the "future" events of Priory feel even more impactful because you’ll understand the weight of the legends the characters are quoting.
- Track the dates. The book covers a significant span of time. Pay attention to the chapter headings or you’ll lose the sense of how long the world has been under siege.
The real achievement of A Day of Fallen Night is that it makes a world we already knew feel dangerous again. It’s a rare prequel that doesn't just fill in gaps, but redefines the entire series. It’s a heavy, gorgeous, and deeply emotional look at what it costs to save a world that might not even remember your name in five hundred years.
Go buy the physical copy. Your e-reader won't do the maps justice. And honestly, it’s one of those books that just feels right in your hands—heavy, substantial, and permanent.
Practical Steps for New Readers:
- Start with the "Note on the Calendar" at the beginning of the book to understand how time is tracked in the Roots of Chaos universe.
- Focus on Tunuva's chapters early on; they provide the most direct link to the magical lore of the world.
- If the pacing feels slow in the first 200 pages, stick with it—the eruption of the Dreadmount changes the entire tone of the book instantly.
- Keep a notepad or use digital bookmarks for the different dragon species; their specific abilities matter during the climax.