“The night before Halden left, he had told me [Onyx] was rumored to be filled with all kinds of monstrous creatures. Dragons, goblins, ogres—I could tell he was trying to spook me, hoping I might nestle myself into the safety of his embrace and allow him to protect me from whatever was beyond our kingdom’s barriers. But it hadn’t frightened me at all. I knew how those tales went. Men, built up in story after story, twisted by retellings into some horrific beasts, wielding unknown powers and capable of untold torment. In reality, they were just…men. Evil, power-hungry, corrupt, debauched men. Nothing more, nothing less, and none worse than the one who had lived in my own home. My stepfather was more vicious and cruel than any monster from a story. I didn’t know if that truth would have brought Halden more or less fear on the day he and Ryder were sent off to war. It definitely wouldn’t help me if Leigh and I were forced into battle next.”

This thoughtful passage highlights Arwen’s childhood trauma even as it reveals her early skepticism for the veracity of overexaggerated stories. Although the passage illustrates The Ambiguity of Political Propaganda and tall tales alike, she does initially succumb to the propaganda spun about Onyx. However, when she reflects that most so-called “monsters” are often just men whose cruelty has been magnified, her thoughts reveal a greater degree of maturity and foreshadow the fact that her perspective will gain considerable depth as time goes on.

“Back inside, I looked through the books, scrolls, potions, and strange bottled creatures that adorned the apothecary walls. I devoured all the new information—so many ways to fix and mend and cure that I had never learned with Nora. Maybe something would spark an idea of how to escape from this place. I had more freedom than I would have expected as a prisoner, and with that came opportunity; I just needed a day or two to plan something that could actually work.”

While Arwen is genuinely fascinated by the apothecary’s knowledge and resources, she only perceives this wealth of information in Shadowhold as a means of potential escape. Thus, her curiosity is paired with pragmatism, and she absorbs details both for learning’s sake and as a way to survive.

“Even if, somehow, I beat those odds, I still had no idea how to navigate the enormity of Onyx. I was unskilled, weak, and uneducated on anything related to this kingdom. Completely unprepared for a life without the safety of my family.”

The discouraged, defeated tone of Arwen’s negative self-assessment reveals the depths of her insecurity and her dependence on familiar surroundings and support. Given that Golden has already thoroughly established Arwen’s skill at healing, the protagonist’s description of herself as “unskilled” and “weak” immediately marks her as an unreliable narrator, highlighting the gap between her perceptions and her actual abilities. The passage reinforces the idea that The Prison of Fear twists her mindset and makes the unknown seem more dangerous than it might be.

“But then I thought of Ryder. Of his strength. He was everything I wasn’t. Creative where I was practical, outgoing where I was shy. Brave, charismatic, popular, and adored by everyone. […] He was the sun, and everyone circled around him, enchanted by his light. Which meant I was like some far-off planet, shrouded in a lonely expanse of space. […] I had been crippled by fear my whole life. Maybe I could pretend. Pretend I had his courage, heroism, and confidence, and see how far that got me. I was not as naturally daring as Ryder, but I was not ready to roll over and admit defeat just yet, either.”

The torrent of unflattering comparisons in this passage reveals how intensely Arwen degrades her own self-image by focusing on her idealized view of her brother Ryder. Even as she positions him as a role model, he also becomes a reminder of her perceived shortcomings. The celestial metaphor of suns and lonely planets emphasizes her feelings of isolation and insignificance in comparison to his magnetic presence.

“Everyone here scared me. They all brimmed with violent, shadowy power and cruel intent. Like I was meat, and they were starving. Except maybe Owen. And his red-haired daughter. And maybe Barney—I wasn’t sure about him yet. But regardless of the outliers, the Onyx people were to be avoided at all costs.”

Arwen’s sweeping judgment of the Onyx people reflects the influence of Amber’s propaganda and her own fear. Yet by acknowledging a few exceptions, she hints at the possibility that these stereotypes might not hold true, and this pattern foreshadows her eventual reevaluation of Onyx as a whole. The predatory imagery, in which she likens herself to “meat” set before starving predators, conveys her vulnerability in this unfamiliar environment and reinforces her instinct to keep her distance.

“Growing up, I had always envied Ryder. Men wanted to be friends with him, women wanted to be with him. Powell and my mother adored him. In their eyes, he could do no wrong. With that came an incredible sense of self-assurance that in turn only made him more successful at everything he attempted. Maybe I had felt like if someone had to make the sacrifice, better it was me than him. Shame coated my tongue, rang through my ears. My cheeks felt hot.”

This passage explicitly reveals why Arwen feels inferior to her brother. She has built up such an idealized version of him in her mind that finds it easy to sacrifice her life for his, and although she previously viewed her sacrifice as bravery, Kane notes that she was actually motivated by her inadequate sense of self-worth. Her shame upon realizing this truth prompts her to reevaluate the way she views herself and reckon with The Tension between Self-Sacrifice and Self-Interest.

“‘Sometimes, I wished for more.’ His eyes flickered, waiting for me to continue. ‘Growing up…I didn’t learn much, or meet many people, or try many things. It’s shameful, frankly, how little I know about the world.’ I thought about Mari. How much she had seen and learned and lived in her twenty years. I’d bet she was even well versed in the mysterious, far corners of the continent. Kingdoms I knew nothing of, like Jade and Citrine. I shook my head. ‘In just a few days, I’ve met people here who have seen and done so much more than me. It makes me feel like I’ve barely lived.’”

In this passage, Arwen voices dissatisfaction with the limits of her past life. When she compares herself to Mari, it is clear that she is still falling into the trap of idealizing those around her and berating herself for her perceived inadequacies. As she considers her many missed opportunities and her sheltered lifestyle, the admission that she has “barely lived” reflects her growing desire to embrace the world’s risks and rewards and begin living for herself rather than for others.

“I looked around the apothecary. I was never going to find out more about this castle—this kingdom—stuck in here each day. And if I had learned anything last night, it was that knowledge was power, and I was powerless unless I pushed my fear aside and braved the rest of this keep.”

This passage marks a key shift in Arwen’s mindset as she exhibits a strong sense of agency and makes the decision to use the tools around her to improve her situation. Her embrace of the pursuit of knowledge hints that she is willing to fight for her survival despite The Prison of Fear that threatens to overwhelm her.

“I wasn’t going to fight him when he was quite literally teaching me to defend myself from the very men that kept me in this castle. And the practice had brought me… joy. I was terrible at it, but there was something about holding the weapon and moving with it that was invigorating. I pictured ramming my sword into King Ravenwood’s arrogant face and a thrill thrummed in my veins.”

Arwen’s search for greater agency takes on a physical manifestation when she begins self-defense lessons with Dagan and realizes the power that lies in making decisive physical movements with deadly weapons in hand. Rather than being forced to merely react to the world around her, she now revels in the realization that she can take action and change her circumstances through sheer force of will.

“I had started to resent my home in Abbington. All the ways my life there had underserved me. And I still hated Shadowhold, even more now that I knew I’d likely be here forever. It didn’t leave many options for anywhere I truly belonged. Somehow, despite the many long, empty days of my childhood, or the recent nights spent in a leaky, stone cell, I had never felt more alone.”

In this scene, Arwen slowly begins to internalize a new view of the world. Her disillusionment with her life in Abbington shows that she has finally been made aware of the inadequacies and limitations of her hometown and her family’s expectations. Although Abbington was once a place of contentment and familiarity, traveling beyond the confines of that town has allowed her to gain new experiences and a more sophisticated perspective, and she now sees her former life as stifling. However, Shadowhold has not yet become a home for her either, and she still feels alone and adrift.

“I dug deeper, upping my pace and leaning forward. This was the only thing I knew I was great at. Whenever I felt trapped, alone, pathetic… running reminded me that I could be strong. That all I needed were my own two feet and I could go anywhere. I gained on Kane with ease and saw a look of shock register on his face.”

In this moment, the act of running parallels the philosophical act of choosing a direction in life and pursuing it with wild abandon rather than waiting for external events to impose change. Arwen’s delight in the physical race with Kane indicates her new sense of freedom as she leans into her newfound confidence and control. Beating Kane at a race—and surprising him out of his usual calm collected demeanor—gives Arwen a measure of power that she did not previously possess.

“I knew what [Mari] meant. Maybe not about the incredible pressure she put on herself, but my childhood loneliness also led to some poor adult choices. Truthfully, had I found something when I was young that I was as great at as Mari was at academia, I might have grown up with some of the sense of self and confidence that she possessed.”

Arwen reflects on her lack of a defining passion or talent in childhood, acknowledging that this deficiency left her without the kind of confidence and self-assurance that Mari now carries. This moment depicts Arwen’s awareness of the long-term effects of her sheltered, fearful life, and it is clear that she now yearns to discover her own strengths and build a more authentic identity that transcends the self-effacing goal of sacrifice for the sake of others.

“The sound of fire crackling in my ears, Barney and I passed by men cooking pots of stew, dealing cards, and drinking ale. The soldiers who had been so fearsome to me just a few weeks ago now seemed like Ryder and his friends—playful, boyish, and all too young.”

This observation marks a distinct shift in Arwen’s perspective, aligning with novel’s focus on discerning and overcoming The Ambiguity of Political Propaganda. Now that Arwen sees the Onyx soldiers as individuals, they are humanized in her eyes. As they engage in ordinary, playful activities, she is forced to admit that Amber’s strident, fear-based narratives have perpetuated unfair prejudices and sown division between the two nations.

“Something like defensiveness bubbled up. Halden had a way of reminding me of Powell on occasion. Making me feel small.”

When Arwen instinctively compares Halden to Powell, this moment stands as a flashing warning sign that her old childhood friend is not the friendly boy she has always believed him to be. His condescending comment triggers a defensive response in her, marking his complete incompatibility as a romantic interest. Unlike Halden, Kane builds Arwen up instead of tearing her down, and when Arwen is faced with Halden’s unfriendly attitude, the exchange further highlights the difference between these two men.

“‘They’re demons, Arwen. They’ve clearly gotten to you already. I don’t know why you’re here, but I promise, I’ll get you out. I told you last night I’d save you.’ He looked at me earnestly and I tried to feel something positive: hope, love, relief. But all I felt was nausea.”

Halden’s unilateral declaration that the Onyx citizens are “demons” creates a starkly black-and-white world in which he stands as a self-appointed savior, ready to swoop in and rescue a woman who has already begun to suspect that she needs no such rescuing. Arwen’s reaction makes it clear that she no longer aligns with him on a personal level, and his declared intentions (and the questionable values beneath them) suggest to her that he is no longer on the side of righteousness—if he ever was. The disconnect between his earnestness and her revulsion signals a deeper shift in Arwen’s loyalties and worldview; by this point, she has begun to see a place for herself in Onyx with Kane, and her loyalty to Halden and Amber is steadily weakening.

“Who do you think is more courageous when charging into battle? The knight who has nothing to fear, surrounded by hundreds of his fellow men, armed with all the weapons on the continent, or the lone knight, with no one beside him, nothing but his fists, and everything to lose? […] There is only true courage in facing what frightens you. What you call fear is indeed power, and you can wield it for good.”

In this conversation, Dagan delivers important advice that completely alters Arwen’s perception of bravery. When Dagan insists that the braver soul is the individual knight who stands alone but has everything to lose, Arwen sees herself in that depiction and gains a new sense of confidence. Ever since she was taken captive by Onyx and separated by her family, she has felt weak because she stands alone. However, she now resolves to move forward despite her fears, just like the hypothetical lone knight.

“You said a while ago that maybe I didn’t think so highly of myself […] That I had thought my life was worth less than my brother’s. I realized not too long after how little I had stood up for myself or thought of myself for so many years.”

Arwen openly acknowledges her long history of undervaluing herself, and this admission represents a key moment of progress in her character arc. By revisiting Kane’s earlier observation, she shows that she has reflected on his words and recognized the truth in them. By holding herself to account, she begins to challenge her own habits of self-sacrifice and hold herself to a different standard.

“But I was uneasy, to say the least. Confused, afraid—I felt like I was on the precipice of something that I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. But it was too late for that now. The Arwen who would rather stay in the dark, naively waiting for everyone to take care of her, make decisions for her…The thought of that version of myself brought me to the brink of nausea.”

This passage shows Arwen’s growing rejection of her former passivity. Even though she still feels fear and uncertainty, she is repelled by the idea of returning to the version of herself who avoided responsibility and relied on others. By framing her former perspective as a different Arwen, she deliberately distances herself from her past and embraces a new identity and sense of agency in the world. Additionally, by living for herself and working past her own fears, Arwen is beginning to see that ignorance is a debilitating weakness that can only be cured with knowledge and self-awareness.

“A weight I hadn’t anticipated rose off my chest. He had told me weeks ago that he didn’t indulge in trusting others, and that he couldn’t trust me. Yet slowly, torturously slowly, he’d let me in. Knowing he had changed his mind, for me alone—allowed me to share these burdens with him—cracked me open completely.”

In this passage, Arwen admires Kane’s willingness to open up and trust her. This shift has prompted a significant level of growth in their relationship, and in turn, she has begun to open up to him as well. While this dynamic is beneficial for them both in the short term, it also opens her up to a devastating sense of betrayal when she later learns that he has been lying to her about her Fae identity and her destiny since the moment they met.

“The feeling of helplessness was an all-too-familiar one. One I had experienced every day of my life until I came to Onyx. But I had learned to live without my family. To sword fight, to be bold. I had survived an attack from a Fae mercenary. And now Kane was leaning on me, counting on me—he had called it relentless positivity, but despite all the helplessness, there was another feeling blossoming inside me. And maybe it was hope.”

In this passage, Arwen recognizes the growth in her confidence and her ability to work past her own fears. As she learns to live without her family, she gains the resolve to fight for herself and to take decisive action to survive the dangers that surround her. This new level of confidence contrasts sharply with her earlier preference to hide.

“Outside, the cool air was like a caress against my face. I took a deep inhale of obsidian wheat and cut grass. I had fallen a bit in love with the rough Onyx land. Lemongrass, lilac, lavender. The sticky, sweet fragrances of my childhood town now felt cloying in comparison.”

As Arwen compares Onyx to her childhood home, her thoughts reflect a significant shift in her sense of belonging. The once-comforting scents of her past now feel overly sweet and stifling, and her affection for Onyx’s harsher landscape forces her to redefine her sense of “home.” Golden’s use of intense sensory imagery conveys Arwen’s fondness for her surroundings and paints a vivid picture of the landscape.

“Something about being at the edge of the continent felt at once both freeing and completely frightening. Frightening, and yet my all-too-familiar panic was nowhere to be found.”

The act of standing at the continent’s edge symbolizes Arwen’s desire to embrace the changes that are just around the corner in her life. She doesn’t know what’s ahead of her, but she is exhilarated by the unknown and no longer fears it. Her reaction to the cliffside in this moment effectively shows her character growth over the course of the novel.

“I felt the horror radiate from those around me on the deck. I heard screams, even from those I loved. But I was powerless to stop it. I thought of all the innocent citizens of Siren’s Cove. Dead, wounded, without homes. […] I thought of Leigh and Ryder, without a mother. […] I thought of Powell. […] All that his abuse had cost me. A sheltered, pitiful life. I thought of my mother. The sweet children she had raised almost entirely alone. The small life she had lived. […] And then, I thought of myself. […] A life wasted in fear, hiding from what was outside, terrified of being alone yet always feeling lonely. Betrayal from the only person who had shown me what anything else could feel like. A prophecy that promised my death. I finally had a profound understanding of my purpose in this world, and it was to die.”

This passage channels all of Arwen’s grief, rage, and trauma into a single breaking point that fuels her destructive magical outburst. Her thoughts spiral through layers of personal loss until her identity feels consumed by pain and inevitability. This quick-paced barrage of imagery and memory is designed to convey the depths of her wrath and grief as she realizes that her destiny is to die. With nothing left to lose, she lets all her magic out in a devastating torrent, and in her despair, she paradoxically breaks free of The Prison of Fear.