Phosyne is another protagonist and a major heroic figure in the novel. Phosyne’s most prominent trait is her unconventional intellect. A former member of Prioress Jacynde’s order, she has broken away from an established religious tradition in order to pursue her own magical experimentation. Her methods are chaotic and intuitive, relying on patterns, resonances, and a belief that “miracles tend to happen when least observed” (27). This allows her to achieve the impossible, such as purifying Aymar’s water, but it also isolates her, making her a figure of suspicion and scorn. Her physical and social isolation is a key aspect of her character; she lives alone in a tower, is physically frail, and finds companionship only with her two magical creatures. This seclusion is both a requirement for her dangerous work and a source of deep vulnerability.

As the narrative progresses, Phosyne’s initial goal of survival evolves into a complex relationship with her own power. The arrival of the saints, whom she suspects she summoned through a desperate, forgotten prayer, forces her to confront the consequences of her abilities. The False Lady recognizes a kindred spirit in Phosyne’s hunger, not for flesh, but for knowledge and control. This culminates in Phosyne accepting the Lady’s dominion over the castle, an act that nearly sees her consumed by an infinite, godlike hunger. Her ultimate decision to relinquish this power to Ser Voyne marks her final transformation. She chooses a collaborative model of control over absolute, solitary power, re-anchoring her vast abilities in a human relationship and embracing the name “Phosyne” once more to contain the monstrous, nameless thing she almost became.

Treila de Batrolin embodies the archetypes of the avenger and the survivor. A round and dynamic character, she is defined by her cunning resilience and a singular, all-consuming quest for vengeance that is ultimately subverted. Having survived the execution of her father and the destruction of her household, Treila is a hardened pragmatist. In Aymar, she operates on the fringes, hoarding rations and catching rats, guided by the principle that she can rely only on herself. Her past trauma has made her adept at playing roles and manipulating others to ensure her own survival. This relentless self-interest provides a stark contrast to Voyne’s sense of duty and Phosyne’s intellectual pursuits.

Treila’s central motivation is revenge against Ser Voyne, the executioner of her father. This hatred is the animating force of her existence, something she has “woven the anger of it into herself” (41). Yet, this desire is complicated by her memory of a youthful infatuation with Voyne, creating a volatile internal conflict between adoration and loathing. This complex dynamic drives her interactions, as she seeks to break Voyne’s spirit rather than simply end her life. Her moral flexibility extends to her willingness to bargain with monstrous entities, first with the creature in the tunnel beneath the castle and later with the Loving Saint. She believes survival justifies any cost, a philosophy that leads her to pay for escape with pieces of her own body.

Treila’s transformation occurs after she kills Ser Voyne, an act that brings her no catharsis. Learning the truth of her father’s treason—that he betrayed the kingdom at Carcabonne—shatters the foundation of her five-year quest for revenge. With her purpose gone, she is forced to forge a new identity. By choosing to return to Aymar and fight alongside Voyne and Phosyne, she transcends her personal vendetta, embracing a collective struggle and finding a new purpose not in destruction, but in defense.

Arriving in Aymar at the height of its desperation, The False Lady and her attendant saints are a monstrous parody of the castle’s religious icons. They exploit the inhabitants’ prayers for salvation, transforming the sacred rituals of faith into a grotesque feast where the worshippers themselves are the main course. Their power is insidious, operating through bewitched offerings of food and honey that bypass intellectual and spiritual defenses to ensnare the body and, through it, the will. The False Lady is a consummate predator, adept at identifying and manipulating the core desires of her victims. She offers purpose to the aimless Ser Voyne, an easy solution to the desperate King Cardimir, and arcane knowledge to the curious Phosyne. Her saints act as specialized extensions of her will: The Loving Saint perverts nature and desire, the Warding Saint provides physical intimidation, and the Absolving Saint serves as the high priest and butcher for their cannibalistic rites. They are static in their hunger but reveal their true, monstrous nature over time. Their profound aversion to iron suggests they are beings of chaos, fundamentally opposed to the structures of mortal order, and their arrival is only possible after Aymar’s iron defenses have been melted down. They represent a primal, devouring force that uses the comforting guise of divinity to satisfy its endless appetite.

King Cardimir represents compromised and desperate leadership. He is the catalyst for the castle’s descent into horror, first by commissioning Phosyne’s heretical work and then by unconditionally accepting the False Lady as a savior. His authority is quickly eroded by his desire for an easy resolution to the siege, showing how power can abdicate its responsibility when faced with an overwhelming crisis. He prioritizes the illusion of salvation over the well-being of his people, readily sanctioning the cannibalistic feast and becoming one of the first to fall under the Lady’s sway. His willingness to sacrifice his subjects’ autonomy for his own security is a dereliction of his royal duty. Cardimir’s eventual fate—to be butchered by Phosyne and served at the very feast he endorsed—serves as a grimly ironic end for a ruler who allowed his kingdom to be consumed.

Ser Leodegardis is a tragic figure who embodies the theme of The Perversion of Duty and Loyalty. A fundamentally decent and responsible leader, his defining characteristic is an extreme commitment to protecting his people, a virtue that is twisted into a vector for horror. Leodegardis’s devotion is absolute, leading him to willingly sacrifice his own limbs to be served as food, believing this to be the ultimate act of a protector. He tells Voyne, “I made the sacrifices I needed to” (207), a statement that reveals a total corruption of noble self-sacrifice into a system of ritualistic self-dismemberment. While he retains enough of himself to recognize the wrongness of the situation, his sense of duty, once co-opted by the Lady, leaves him unable to resist. His story serves as a cautionary exploration of how loyalty without an independent moral compass is not a virtue but a vulnerability that can be exploited for monstrous ends.