The funny thing is, I hadn’t even read the first book and yet, somehow, I still found myself asking for the second. No expectations, no certainty, not even the guarantee that I would like the story at all. And yet, I did. More than that. I fell in love with it. The first book was a masterpiece in every sense of the word, and going into the second, I was honestly afraid it wouldn’t live up to that feeling. But it did not disappoint me.

Before I say anything else, though, if you’ve only read the first book, this is your warning. There are small spoilers ahead, and trust me, this is a story you’ll want to experience for yourself.

What truly stayed with me (what still lingers even now) is the way this story understands love. Not the easy kind, not the soft, fleeting version of it, but the kind that consumes you. The kind that asks everything from you. The kind that makes you go further than you ever thought you could. The way Vasalie/Vastianna spoke about Anton… it broke something inside me. There was something so raw, so painfully beautiful in her words that I could feel my chest tightening with every page. It didn’t feel like fiction anymore. It felt real. It felt like love pouring out, uncontrollable, overwhelming, almost too much to hold.

And yet, not everything was perfect. There were moments when the story felt like it was going in circles, repeating itself, trapping both the characters and the reader in the same space. I felt it in the first book too, that sense of being confined. There, it was the palace. Here, it’s the world of the dead. But somehow, I still forgave it. Because this story gives you so much in other ways.

The fantasy element, which felt almost distant in the first book, rises to the surface here in a way that feels vivid and undeniable. The world is strange, haunting, and deeply original. But even that is not what stayed with me the most.

It was the characters. Not the main ones but the ones who are so often left in the background in other stories. Here, they shine. Here, they matter. Emilie. Marianne. Laurent. Sundar. They weren’t just part of the story, they were the story. Each of them felt alive, layered, real in a way that made it impossible not to care. In fact, I found myself more attached to them than to Vasalie and Anton. It didn’t feel like there were “main characters” and “side characters”. It felt like everyone carried the weight of the story together.

And maybe that’s why it hit me as hard as it did. Because in the end, what I’m left with isn’t just the plot, or the world, or even the twists. It’s the feeling.

The kind of love that asks for everything and still gives more. The kind of friendship that holds you together when you’re on the verge of breaking. The quiet, powerful reminder that you have to believe in yourself even when it feels impossible.

Because you never really know how far you can go. How much you can endure, how much you can become until you choose to believe that you can.