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In The Hunger of the Gods, John Gwynne portrays a world in which those who are descended from the gods are marginalized and oppressed. Even the name used for this group, “the Tainted,” signals the societal prejudice they face. Carrying the blood of the gods marks an individual for subjugation, persecution, and exploitation, transforming them into either a commodity to be traded or a weapon to be wielded. Rather than granting privilege, this lineage is a fatal liability in a world defined by mortals’ fear of the gods and their descendants. The novel argues that social prejudice gives rise to oppression that only begets further cycles of violence, ultimately harming those on both sides of the class divide.
The world’s power structures are built on controlling those with god-blood, a consequence of a past war between the gods that nearly destroyed humanity. Mortals fear the power of the gods, but new forms of magic—analogous to new technologies—allow them to claim power over these far more intrinsically powerful beings. Shortly after placing a magical thrall-collar around the neck of the demigod Skuld, Elvar explains how the world has changed: “Your war almost destroyed humankind, and you and your kin are not loved for that. The gods are hated, now, and their offspring, too. Wherever they are found the Tainted are thralled, just like you” (35-36). This explanation makes clear that oppression of the so-called “tainted” is an example of collective punishment—the punishment of an entire class for the actions of individuals. Though Elvar rejects her father’s cruelty, she unthinkingly perpetuates the same cruel system her father represents when she enslaves Skuld. Though she imagines herself a kinder enslaver than most, telling Skuld, “I shall threat you well and give you the chance to earn my respect” (36), she is oblivious to the violence and cruelty inherent to enslavement, a system so ingrained in her world that many fail to think critically about it. The pervasive fear of this fate is articulated by Orka, who hid her own Tainted nature for years, explaining that revealing it is “the kind of thing that could put a thrall-collar around my neck, or see me swinging in a cage” (6). This constant threat of capture and servitude defines the Tainted experience as one of precarious survival.
For the powerful, Tainted individuals are not people but strategic assets to be weaponized for political or magical ends. The central plot is driven by the Raven-Feeders’ abduction of Tainted children—including Orka’s son Breca and Uspa’s son Bjarn—to be used as a mass blood sacrifice to free the dragon-god Lik-Rifa. Though the Raven-Feeders believe themselves to be crusaders for justice against the unjust enslavement of the god-blooded, their willingness to use these children shows the hollowness of their ideological commitments. The children’s lives are valued only for their magical potential. Similarly, Queen Helka maintains her rule with a loyal guard of enthralled Úlfhéðnar, and Elvar’s desperate plan to defeat Lik-Rifa involves resurrecting the wolf-god Ulfrir and binding him with a Galdur-collar. In each case, divine lineage makes the Tainted a tool for others’ ambitions, their bodies and powers becoming instruments in wars they did not choose, as the caste system of their world deprives them of agency.
John Gwynne’s The Hunger of the Gods argues that the institution of thralldom—the word used in this fictional world for enslavement—is a corrupting force that dehumanizes both the enslaved and the enslaver, breeding a violent resentment that ultimately fuels societal collapse. The brutal system of controlling the gods and their descendants through enslavement is not a sustainable power structure but a catalyst for an apocalyptic backlash. The novel shows how stripping individuals of their agency and treating them as property directly leads to the formation of revolutionary movements and the unleashing of destructive powers, suggesting that a society built on such subjugation will inevitably be consumed by the violence it creates.
The experience of enslavement erases identity and familial bonds, leaving the enslaved with a singular, overriding desire for either freedom or vengeance. This is most clearly seen in the thralls’ shifting loyalties. Kráka and Ilmur are both thralled to the Battle-Grim but betray them without hesitation to join the Raven-Feeders. Their decision is not driven by malice but by the promise of liberation: They never chose to join the Battle-Grim, and they feel no obligation of loyalty toward those who have enslaved them. Similarly, Varg’s journey begins when he kills his owner, Kolskegg, an act of rebellion against a life of servitude that sets him on a path to find agency among the Bloodsworn. For these characters, the bonds of thralldom are chains to be broken by any means necessary, and loyalty belongs only to those who offer a way to break them.
The privileged of this world are just as morally corroded by the system they perpetuate. They view the “Tainted” not as people but as objects, tools, or status symbols. Jarl Störr’s power is defined by his collection of enslaved Berserkir, whom he forces to fight for him. The language used to describe Berak, a member of Störr’s Berserkir army, illustrates the distance between enslavers’ perceptions of the enslaved and their own self-perceptions. The capture of Berak by Agnar and his sale to Störr is treated as a simple business transaction, a trade in valuable property notated perfunctorily in the book’s summary prologue: “Jarl Störr purchases the Berserkir Berak from Agnar” (xxvi). Later, when Elvar bargains with the enslaved Seiðr-witch Uspa, Berak’s wife, Uspa speaks of him in a very different way: “If I do this, you will free my husband as well” (60). To Uspa, Berak is not property but a beloved husband, and she looks “deep into Elvar’s eyes” for confirmation that she will free the man she loves (60).
The novel presents the rise of Lik-Rifa and her army as the ultimate and inevitable consequence of this systemic oppression. The Raven-Feeders’ mission is explicitly framed as a revolutionary war to end the enslavement of the Tainted. After freeing Kráka and Ilmur, Myrk promises, “Never again will you wear a thrall-collar, little hound. Lik-Rifa’s freedom is the first step to freeing all the thralled Tainted in Vigrið” (48). Lik-Rifa herself consolidates her power by positioning herself as a liberator, telling the abducted children that their parents betrayed them and that she is their true mother. By weaponizing their trauma, she transforms the victims of an oppressive system into the vanguard of an army poised to destroy it. Seeking only her own power, she threatens to enslave or destroy humanity—ironically, exactly the outcome the humans were trying to prevent when they enslaved the gods in the first place.
In The Hunger of the Gods, vengeance is depicted as a self-perpetuating cycle that transforms personal grief into a destructive force that only begets more vengeance. The novel argues that this relentless pursuit of retribution erodes empathy, isolates the vengeful from their communities, and reduces them to their most violent instincts. Characters driven by a quest for vengeance, like Orka and Glornir, are forced to abandon the peaceful lives they had built, subordinating all other responsibilities and relationships to a singular, all-consuming mission that leaves a trail of bodies in its wake, inspiring others to seek vengeance in turn.
The quest for vengeance compels characters to resurrect violent past identities, sacrificing the peace and humanity they had cultivated. After finding her husband Thorkel murdered and her son Breca abducted, Orka fully regresses into her old persona as the infamous warrior known as the “Skullsplitter.” She explains to Lif, “I have locked the Skullsplitter away all these years […] Skullsplitter is back now, and she will help me find my Breca” (7). This resurrected identity is not merely a name but a state of being, defined by the brutal slaughter she unleashes at the Grimholt. Her grief does not lead to healing but to a regression into a more primal and destructive version of herself, one entirely dedicated to hunting down her enemies.
Once undertaken, the mission of vengeance becomes an all-consuming priority that overshadows reason, personal safety, and prior obligations. Upon learning that his wife Vol has been abducted by the Galdurman Skalk, Glornir immediately abandons the mission Queen Helka hired the Bloodsworn to perform. His focus narrows to a single point: rescuing Vol and killing Skalk. This personal vendetta becomes the warband’s new purpose. Similarly, the fisherman Lif Virksson, after witnessing the murder of his shackled brother Mord, swears a blood feud against Guðvarr. This oath initiates his training as a warrior, channeling his grief into a consuming need for retribution that now dictates the course of his life.
The novel further illustrates how the cycle of vengeance is self-perpetuating, with each act of retribution generating new grievances that demand further violence. When Myrk Sharp-Claw and her crew arrive at Rotta’s chamber, they are ambushed and slain by Orka and the Bloodsworn. Though Myrk survives, she is left maimed and driven by a new, intense need to avenge her slain father and warriors, setting her on a direct collision course with Orka. Likewise, Halja Flat-Nose chooses to join Orka’s quest specifically to seek vengeance for her brother, Vali, who was killed by a troll allied with the dragon-born. These intersecting paths of retribution create a tangled web of violence, suggesting that in this world, a blood-feud never truly ends; it only spawns new ones.



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