We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from Sunbringer, the second book in the Fallen Gods epic fantasy series by Hannah Kaner—publishing with Harper Voyager on March 12.
When Middren falls to the gods, your kind will be the first to die.
Gods are forbidden in the kingdom of Middren—but now they are stirring, whispering of war. Godkiller Kissen sacrificed herself to vanquish the fire god Hseth, who murdered her family and endangered her friends. But gods cannot be destroyed so easily, and Hseth’s power threatens to reform with even greater strength and a thirst for vengeance. As tensions rise throughout the land, the kingdom needs its Godkiller more than ever.
Still reeling from the loss of Kissen, young noble Inara and her little god of white lies, Skedi, have set out to discover more about the true nature of their bond. As the divide between gods and humans widens, Inara and Skedi will uncover secrets that could determine the fate of the war to come.
Meanwhile, Elogast, no longer a loyal knight of King Arren, has been tasked with killing the man he once called friend. The king vowed to eradicate all gods throughout the land, but has now entered into an unholy pact with the most dangerous of them all. And where his heart once beat, a god now burns…
Arren’s brain raced as he neared death. It was what Elo always praised him for, his quick thinking, his decisiveness. What if Hseth had been wrong? What if he did not need her power to be loved? What if there was a story here, capable of winning their faith? That was how gods were made.
‘I gave my life for Middren,’ he said, resting his fingers on his open chest. ‘All I have done… for Middren…’
Peta nodded. ‘I know…’ she said.
The other knights were beginning to understand. Arren heard a creak as one, then another, then all of the guards fell to their knees.
But it was too late. Too late for this last grasp at hope, at love. His hand dropped to the floor. His breath faded. None of them dared say a word.
A spark from the fire leapt out just as the dawn broke through the clouds. The ember ran across the wooden floor, the carpet, racing up Arren’s arm and into the cavity where his heart had been. There, it bloomed.
Hestra. She took root in his heart and once more her power filled him, warming his blood and sending it rushing. His gasping lungs swelled with air, bringing light and life to his body. He breathed.
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Sunbringer
He gripped the commander’s arm, dizzy with the sudden change. Death to life. Dark to light, as the sun illuminated all of them in gold.
Another chance.
Arren forced strength into his voice. ‘It is well,’ he said, and sat up. ‘I am well.’ He had learned this on the battlefield, suffused with fear, breaths from death, to channel strength, power, certainty. He stood on shaking legs without Peta’s help, trying not to show how terrified he had been. His commander stepped back, scared to touch him.
He would show no shame; nothing good would be built on shame. He stood tall, softened the planes of his face from pain into something gentler, then held out his shaking hands and showed his bare chest fully. The darkness within was now lit by Hestra’s fire, crowded with green moss and twigs.
The guards looked up at him, agape, uncertain. Uncertainty he could use. He saw himself in their eyes: a tale they could whisper, a myth he could build.
Hseth is dead. Hestra did not care for the crisis she had caused. Instead, her thoughts slammed into Arren’s mind, painful. No acknowledgement, no apology. The great god of fire is dead. Her shrines broken, her power gone.
Dead. Arren gritted his teeth. One damned crisis at a time.
‘We failed you,’ Peta whispered. Two of their guards deepened their bow, another gasped, horrified at the thought.
‘No,’ said Arren quickly. ‘No, Knight Commander. I gave my life, willingly, to kill the god of war and save our lands from destruction.’ That was not all true – Arren had not killed the god of war – but the truth didn’t matter. All that mattered was the story. The myths that made gods, brought them to life in their shrines. Stories bind hope and love to make it faith.
Peta touched her hand to the badge that pinned her cloak at her shoulder, the stag’s head before a rising sun, the symbol of Arren’s kingship. His defeat of the god of war, the gods he had risen beyond. Before his symbol had been a young lion, but that he had come to share with Elo; the king’s lion, so his friend had been called. Arren had to be something else.
‘I did what I must,’ he said softly. How many times had Hseth said such a thing to him? ‘A sacrifice is not a loss. We had to fight the tide of darkness, the chaos of the gods. We still fight it, we still must fight it.’ Hestra flared in his chest, and he put a hand there.
Wait, he thought towards her, hoping she understood him.
‘To bring sunlight back to us, to Middren,’ said Arren, threading his hopes together ‘to bring ourselves back from those nights of terror, we all must be willing to give our lives, even if it hurts us, even if it challenges our very soul.’
Hestra was still. Arren let the light of the sun brighten his curling mess of hair, let the flicker of the god’s flame twist impossibly in his heart. He was vulnerable. A single briddite blade would end him here and now.
‘If you, too, will make such offerings,’ he said, ‘then pledge to me.’ He splayed out his hand and put it over the rift in his heart. Like sunrays, like his symbol. His story.
Peta dropped to her knees and copied him: hand over heart, fingers spread wide. The others followed, hand after hand. Hestra’s flames stirred again, this time with delight, sensing what she also desired, more than anything. Faith. For a moment, in their eyes, they were both more than they had ever been. More than his mother’s unloved son. More than a lucky prince who won a war and no longer had the commander who won it with him. More than a little god of littler shrines, chipped away and forgotten. Together, they were greater than his flesh, brighter than his crown. All he had ever wanted to be.
‘Sunbringer,’ said Peta. Arren almost laughed with half pleasure, half delirium. This was more than an alliance with Hseth, a reliance on her power.
This was him.
The others murmured with her. ‘Sunbringer.’
‘Sunbringer.’
It was not enough, not yet. He needed more. He needed a nation.
He must become a god.
From Sunbringer by Hannah Kaner, published by Harper Voyager. Copyright © 2024 by Hannah Kaner. Reprinted courtesy of HarperCollins Publishers.
