60 pages • 2-hour read
Carissa BroadbentA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
In the novel’s violent world, unresolved grief and trauma are common, yet those who have been victimized often go on to victimize others, committing heinous acts in the name of justice. Shiket kills Mische for killing a god but ignores that she did so to stop a massacre of the vampire race and the murder of her lover. Similarly, Nyaxia’s unresolved grief over Atroxus’s death leads her to wage war against the gods, with countless humans as collateral damage. The novel thus highlights how the conviction of being “in the right” can become dangerous when taken to extremes. Characters who cling too tightly to their own sense of justice or morality often justify cruelty or destruction in the name of virtue. In these moments, righteousness blurs with self-interest, revenge, or even pride, revealing how easily noble intentions can translate into harmful actions.
Broadbent’s depiction of the Sentinels who carry out divine justice on Shiket’s behalf encapsulates this idea. Formerly humans who pledged their fealty to Shiket in exchange for immortality, Sentinels are covered head to toe in gold armor. Their hair is covered in hoods and their faces “by masks of polished gold, free of features, decoration, or imperfection” (33)—a detail that hints at how the erasure of “imperfection” also results in the erasure of anything discernibly human, including unique personality. Their “flawless” appearance mirrors the unmerciful, uncompromising way they carry out justice. Conversely, their polished masks show distorted reflections of the people they’re judging, suggesting the Sentinels’ inability to see the good in them. When Asar looks at one such reflection, he sees his face “distorted by the curve of metal” (35), with hollow eyes, wan skin, and brutally stark scars. Meanwhile, Mische sees a “twisted version of [her]self in the warrior’s mask […] as if [she] were seeing every ugly mark upon [her] soul, burning [her] skin like the sun” (77). The way the masks emphasize every “flaw” highlights the uncompromising nature of the “justice” Shiket and her Sentinels deal out to countless individuals.
Mische’s recollection of Shiket’s temples illustrates the end results of this moral rigidity. She describes them as “[feeling] like monuments to violence, every wall painted with depiction of glorified battles and lined with stone visages of Sentinels, staring down in eternal judgement from beneath those smooth masks” (80). Her interpretation of the art depicts Shiket not as someone punishing the deserving but rather as someone acting on brutal impulse, delighting in violence and refusing to forgive. The bloodthirstiness implied by the “glorified battles” is particularly notable in a novel about vampires—beings whom Shiket herself categorically classifies as evil. This irony underscores that the pursuit of justice, when unmoderated by mercy or acceptance of moral ambiguities, can be as destructive as the wrongs it seeks to correct.
To a large extent, Asar and Mische are initially the products of others’ wishes. As a young child, Asar was told by Gideon that if he did not himself assume the Shadowborn crown, the House would “take whatever parts of [him] [were] useful and discard the rest” (12). He was thus molded into a weapon to be used against the House of Shadow’s enemies until the deaths of his father and brother set him free. Mische’s time as an acolyte of Atroxus was less overtly brutal but still involved sublimating her own identity: From a young age, Mische committed herself to her faith, giving it “every part of [her] body and soul, in every literal and figurative way” (29). However, becoming a vampire forced her to recognize that her identification with Atroxus was no longer tenable: “[T]he god [she] had given [her] soul to had been ready to slaughter [her] entire race without a second thought” (29). The novel thus opens with both Asar and Mische freed from the demands of others yet uncertain who they are in the absence of those demands, and it charts their course toward excavating their true selves.
Asar’s reinvention is the more fraught. The Interludes demonstrate how Gideon instilled in him the belief that anger and sacrifice were the only measures of worth. That lesson reverberates across the novel, with Asar leaning into old habits when he tortures Gideon for the glyphs to open Vathysia. The relics encourage these tendencies, tempting him toward retribution over mercy. Yet the narrative consistently pushes Asar to question whether he must remain the weapon he was shaped to be. His moments of creation as the God of Death—such as reviving a poppy flower and reshaping the skull of a guardian into a mask for Mische—reveal that the capacity to heal never left him. By the end of the novel, Asar has come to see himself as someone capable of offering help and salvation.
Mische’s arc underscores the significance of this rediscovery of natural inclinations by linking it to literal and symbolic rebirth. Without a god to serve, Mische is left untethered and without purpose for the first time in her life: That she begins the novel as a wraith suggests the formlessness of her existence. Yet the phoenix imagery she is associated with foreshadows not only a physical rebirth but also a spiritual one. Rather than adhere to the rigid justice of Shiket and her followers, the sect closest to Atroxus’s, Mische embraces her own compassion and mercy, recognizing them as forms of strength. Like Asar’s story, Mische’s thus involves recovering a self that was long suppressed but never gone.
The Fallen & the Kiss of Dusk forces characters to examine what they’re willing to sacrifice and what they are not in order to achieve their desires. Ultimately, the novel suggests that some costs are too high, particularly when they involve compromising one’s ethics, relationships with others, or basic self.
Asar’s life is defined by the sacrifices demanded of him. From childhood, Gideon’s lessons instill in him the belief that life gains value only through the blood spilled upon it. The ramifications of this worldview become clear when Asar is “willing to sacrifice what remained of the veil” to revive Mische (105). Asar’s use of the word “sacrifice” in this context initially looks like equivocation: His readiness to endanger entire realms to satisfy his own desires is an act of selfishness. However, it is also a corruption of his own moral intuition; in this sense, it truly is a “sacrifice.” Later, the relics intensify this danger, whispering to him that it wouldn’t be so terrible to sacrifice the “messy parts” of his mortality in exchange for divinity. His bargain with Nyaxia in Vostis represents the culmination of this process. Asar willingly offers his own heart, humanity, and freedom in exchange for divinity so as to spare humanity from Nyaxia’s current wrath, pause the destruction of the House of Night, stabilize the realms, and save Mische. Though his sacrifice saves lives, it is in some sense a capitulation. Nyaxia earlier claimed that Asar was “useful for nothing but a sacrifice” (375). In striking his bargain with her, Asar implicitly endorses this view of himself—a denial of his basic personhood that the novel frames as both his greatest sacrifice and a sacrifice that no one should ever make.
Newly freed from her naive servitude to Atroxus, Mische has a different view of sacrifice, shaped by her realization of how much divine faith forced her to give up. Atroxus’s killing blow would have taken even more: “[I]t struck me just how much death would have taken from me. Luce. Asar” (84). With such experiences in mind, Mische defines her new limits, first with her sister, Saescha, and then with Asar. Mische refuses to let her sister become one of Shiket’s lost souls, and in choosing not to sacrifice Saescha to this fate, Mische is rewarded: She finds Saescha’s soul and shepherds it to peace in the afterlife. Mische faces a similar quandary when confronted with the opportunity to kill Asar in his divine form, but she is ultimately unwilling to sacrifice either her love for him or her memory of who he truly is. Notably, her decision instead to split Alarus’s heart between them jeopardizes her own life. It thus emerges as a sacrifice in its own right, but it is one that reaffirms the basic parameters of the concept: It is far worse to give up one’s humanity than it is to give up one’s life, the novel suggests.



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