Title: Worldbreaker Saga
Author: Kameron Hurley
Publication Date: 2014-2020
Genres: Fantasy
Protagonist Gender: Female
I originally published my review of the first book 9 years ago, but I’m excited to seize the opportunity of this year’s #TransRightsReadathon to explore the trilogy as a whole.
Kameron Hurley’s Worldbreaker Saga is that rarest of fantasy beasts – a successful mainstream epic fantasy that is also boldly, brashly, and brazenly diverse.
It all begins with The Mirror Empire, which introduces us to a harsh, post-apocalyptic fantasy universe that is fully aware of its own mirror worlds. These are not just mirror worlds into which individuals accidentally slip, but worlds that wage war upon one another to survive the latest apocalyptic cycle. What is really interesting here is that everyone has a mirror counterpart, with whom they cannot coexist, leading to a sometimes confusing game of murder and usurpation. Most of the conflict centres upon a pacifist empire known as the Dhai, which just happens to be situated on the marching path of mirror conquerors.
As for that post-apocalyptic fantasy landscape, there is a strong theme of environmental awareness buried within it. Hurley avoids any long-winded speeches about the madness of foolishness of humanity, and does not bore the reader with details about we destroyed the world. Instead, she moves past all that, simply acknowledges that it happened, and shows us just how resilient –and vengeful – nature can be. This is a hostile environment with which humanity is constantly at war, fighting back carnivorous vegetation, including ‘bone trees’ that incorporate human bone shards into their bark.
In terms of gender, gender roles, and sexuality, this is certainly the most diverse epic fantasy I have ever encountered. Gender is as much about roles as it is biology, with both passive and assertive males and females, as well as truly genderfluid individuals. Even I was confused by the diversity of pronouns at times, so I can only imagine how a mainstream reader might feel, but it’s worth paying attention. Despite that gender diversity, however, this is largely a world of matriarchal societies, where masculine rulers are almost unheard of, and the very idea of a male warrior is laughed at. It is the women who make the decisions, who fight the battles, and who enjoy the spoils. Assertive men generally serve as clerics and scribes, while passive men serve as the equivalent of the stereotypical housewife, performing domestic chores and providing sexual release for their polyamorous marriage partners.
Despite the diversity and the imagination involved here, this is a very dark and very violent epic fantasy. Hurley ploughs through this first volume quickly, almost dragging the reader along in her wake, so that we do not truly appreciate what she has accomplished until the very end. There are a lot of characters and a lot of points-of-view, which only adds to the confusion, but it does personalize much of the diversity and really allow us to experience the world of the Worldbreaker Saga.
The Mirror Empire was such a mind-blowing a read,so ambitious, awesome, imaginative, and exhausting in equal measure, I had serious concerns as to how a sequel would fare – but Empire Ascendant proves to have even more layers (and worlds) than we thought, making it a more than worthy follow-up.
With the concept, the geographies, the cultures, and the characters already established, Hurley is free here to delve deeper and provide us with a more intimate understanding of the politics involved, as well as the family ties that so often drive them. Those conflicts are just as complicated and confusing as you might expect, given that we’re dealing with mirror universes and doppelgangers, and more than once we’re left questioning the morality of all sides.
And that’s where this book expands on the first, taking everything to a whole other level. We’re no longer just talking about ‘both’ sides here, no longer dealing with just the invasion of one world into another. As Oma’s rise approaches and the barriers between worlds grow ever thinner, there is a third power brought into play, one knows a thing or two about the breaking of the worlds
The first book had its challenges, and things do not get any easier here, which is just as it should be. Hurley throws even more character points-of-view into the mix, introducing new characters and elevating secondary characters from the first book to positions of significance here. I immediately reconnected with these characters, and was pleased to see them grow and develop, but what shocked me upon my reread of the series is how my own loyalties and sympathies shifted.
Zezili was a dark, deplorable highlight of my initial read, but upon encountering her a second time, I saw her for what she is – a gender-flipped grimdark fantasy protagonist who is willing to endure death and disfigurement, betray her Empress, and sacrifice an entire culture simply to rescue her husband. She’s not your typical hero. She commits horrible acts in pursuit of her husband. There’s even a lingering question of whether she’s doing so out of love or possession. It’s not that none of that matters, but that it makes her even more fascinating, more complex. I would argue that Zezili is one of the most important epic fantasy protagonists of the twenty-first century.
Everything Hurley introduced in the first book regarding gender and gender roles is all still there, just more assumed and less explained, with ‘ze’ and ‘hir’ pronouns having become so common, we cease to notice them. Hurley doesn’t need to call it out or wave the flag here because it’s just part of how her worlds exist, and that casual assumption actually makes it even more exciting. That’s not to say, of course, that it’s all left to subtlety. Saradyn, for instance, is so much of a male chauvinistic pig that he borders on parody. Pairing him with the quietly flamboyant Natanial, and then placing them both in close proximity to Anavha and Zezili, is a genius move that exemplifies so much about the gender gap.
As for the other characters, Lilia started to grow stale for me in the first book, but we see in her new life here that adds to the overall drama of the tale. Roh steps back a bit, spending more time in the shadows, almost throwing himself into the role of victim, but his arc has its surprises. Similarly, Nasaka is more a force or an influence here than a character, spending most of her time off the page, but her role is even more crucial than we could have expected. Taigan continues to be one of my favorite characters, gaining more depth as the story moves on. And, in a book defined by its damaged characters, Anavha probably surprised me the most, with his breaking near the end such a powerful scene. I wanted so much more for him, and I really hope he gets his moment in the finale.
Although this is a middle book, things actually happen here. You can feel the tension oozing off the page as the characters clash, cultures collide, and worlds approach an end. The plot develops as much, if not more so, than in the first book, and not always in ways you’d expect. There are twists and turns to the tale that even the most jaded readers won’t see coming as the story careens downhill towards an uncomfortable precipice. While I knew very well after the first book that no character was safe or sacred, and that not all of then would make it through to to the end, I was still shocked by a few deaths and betrayals, and even one moment of emancipation, all of which leave the story irrevocably changed.
If I had to describe the The Broken Heavens in a single word, ‘deceptive’ would be it. This is a book that’s deceptive in just about every way, and I can’t think of a better way to end the epic intensity of Worldbreaker Saga.
As the book opens, we’re presented with what feels like a smaller, more intimate tale, one that is focused on a few key players and a pair of key conflicts – Lilia and the Dhai versus Kirana and the Tai Mora – but (of course) it’s not that simple. Lilia is just as much in conflict with the Dhai, challenging an entire philosophy of pacifism with her desire for revenge, and her followers are standing in the way of the nation’s retreat. Then there’s the matter of Lilia’s own deceit, hiding the fact that she burned herself out.
Layered on top of all that is the reminder that, when you’re dealing with multiple worlds, with parallel people crossing over between mirror universes, deception is everywhere. Compounding that confusion is the surprise return of characters thought dead, cloaked in questions of whether they really are the characters we think, or just mirror counterparts from another world. Adding to that doubt is a kind of self-deception, with one of those most surprising characters suffering from a sort of short-term amnesia, leaving us to wonder if they even know whether they’re the real deal.
“There’s always another monster, another and another, behind them. You kill them, you become them, you lose everything you ever cared for.”
And self-deception is not just limited to amnesiacs. There are so many characters here lumbering under their own sense of self-deception, fooling themselves as to what their true motives and goals might be. They have become so adept at spinning lies, at presenting the right illusion to those around them, that when it comes time to choose sides, to decide upon a course of action, they’re not even sure what they want. Of course, even the illusion of choice is a deception, as Roh reminds us:
“There are more than two choices. It’s not all good or evil, this or that. We have the power to find other choices . . . I thought I had two choices, always, but there were more than that, always.”
Perhaps the book’s biggest deception, however, is allowing us to believe that the conflict could ever be so simple, just one leader versus another, one race against another. There are glimpses of other worlds throughout, literal drop-in reminders of just how many people are fleeing the destruction of their own worlds, but the first real clue that there may be a third power to contend with almost sneaks by. It isn’t fully appreciated until after the fact . . . and by then it’s far too late.
In terms of characters, I really like how Hurley brought Lilia to a natural conclusion, allowing her growth, self-revelation, and moments of both triumph and tragedy. We see her full potential here, and she rises to the occasion. Kirana becomes even more well-rounded in this final chapter and, despite all that horrors for which she’s responsible, it becomes increasingly harder to simply see her as a villain. Taigan was always a favorite, and I really like their arc here, free from the magical compulsions of the first two books, and what Hurley does with their immortality is immensely satisfying. Roh gets back into the action, becoming a voice of reason and a guiding influence, if not quite the hero we might have expected, and Anavha becomes a character in his own right, defined by neither Zezili nor Natanial, and yet still very much cringing in their shadows.
“Owned. I know it’s wrong. I know you and Natanial don’t like it, but I miss it. I miss other people telling me what to do. I hate having choices…”
While I truly wondered how, or even if, the saga could end – the cyclical nature of sagas like The Dark Tower kept lurking in my thoughts – I think that is where The Broken Heavens shines brightest. It’s not just the characters and the conflicts that come to a head here, but the entire mythology of the worlds, the gates, and the temples. Given all the build-up to the temples, the satellites, and the breaking of worlds, there’s a lot to deliver here, and Hurley delivers on all of it. More importantly, she looks beyond the end, giving us a thoughtful meditation on all that’s happened and what it means going forward. Outstanding in every respect.
Rating: ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀
Sally Bend 
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