Tag: Guild of Assassins

A Letter Concerning the Infiltration of Wiete’s Judiciary by the Assassins’ Guild

Private correspondence authored by Investigator Eland Moreau, formerly of the Office of Special Inquiries, Nordturm. Discovered among the personal effects of Magistrate Lorran Bellwyn following his death in 926. Published posthumously in Wiete Unveiled: Suppressed Testimonies and Censured Documents, Vol. IV.

To be delivered to the Chief Magistrate of Nordturm, the Heptarchal Council, and any soul of integrity who still draws breath beneath our decaying banners.

Esteemed Lords and Learned Magistrates,

If this letter has reached your desk intact, then I dare hope, for a fleeting moment, that all is not yet lost. Forgive the manner of address—I can no longer rely on protocol, nor dare I trust the channels through which such words are customarily passed. I write not from my office in Nordturm, but from an undisclosed cellar beyond the reach of polite society. I write as a fugitive. I write, I fear, as a man already marked.

I offer this not as conjecture, but as conclusion: the judiciary of Wiete, particularly within the territories of Nordturm and the coastal satrapies, has been infiltrated—systematically, deliberately—by the Assassins’ Guild.

For the past eighteen months, I have conducted what began as an internal corruption probe. An unremarkable case. A Magistrate’s aide found to possess an income disproportionate to his station. Suspicion of favours, bribes, routine misuse of authority. A bureaucratic audit, nothing more. But the more I pulled, the more threads unravelled. And what I uncovered is not an anomaly. It is a design.

I document here, as plainly as the ink allows, the shape of that design.

Magistrate Ellin Vehrin ruled her district with a reputation for precision and piety. I was called to Braelthorn after two witnesses under her protection—critical to a treason case—were found dead within a secure compound.

I was shown what passed for an internal report: a weather anomaly, a collapsed beam, and the unfortunate coincidence of both parties sleeping in adjacent rooms. I requested autopsy records. I was told they had been lost in transit. I requested testimony from the guards. None had been seen since.

My access to Vehrin’s files was revoked. My reassignment order arrived the following day. I ignored it.

That evening, a page from Vehrin’s calendar was slipped under the door of my inn. On the back, drawn in red ink, a glyph I now know to be one of the Guild’s marks: the eye within the flame.

Three days later, Vehrin resigned and vanished. Her chambers were emptied overnight. No record of her resignation exists in the High Court archives.

In the span of ten months, eight magistrates across Wiete resigned, retired, or disappeared. In each case:

  • Successors were appointed within twenty-four hours.
  • Witnesses linked to open investigations either retracted statements or suffered fatal accidents.
  • Financial records of the accused magistrates were sealed or redacted.

My requests to review their personnel files were denied—five times in succession. On the sixth attempt, I received a forged file. The watermark was inverted. The signatures had been copied from an unrelated case I’d handled two years prior.

The forgery was deliberate. Sloppy. Almost taunting.

In Hafendorf, I encountered a man calling himself Berrand, a former clerk who’d worked under Magistrate Hallivar.

He had the look of a man forever watching shadows.

He claimed Hallivar received sealed missives delivered by the same hooded courier every seventh day. The courier never spoke. When Hallivar died of what was ruled a cardiac seizure, Berrand stole one of the messages before it could be burned.

I have seen it. Or rather, what remains of it. It was encoded using a cipher I later confirmed as matching that used by the Guardians’ Shadows during the late Ravenglass era.

One phrase repeated beneath the ciphered lines: Name Confirmed. Terms Agreed.

The last line, uncoded, bore a name: Maelen Vor—a trade unionist found dead four days later in an alley behind the Glassmarket.

The cause? Heart failure.

At thirty-two years of age.

I made the mistake of confiding in Rence Valdir, a junior magistrate in Nordturm. Earnest. Devout. I thought him incorruptible.

I showed him the Ledger fragment. His hands trembled. He said nothing.

Two days later, my office was ransacked. My personal notes burned. My access to the city archives revoked. Valdir’s father, Magistrate Orren Valdir, publicly denounced me for treasonous speculation and abuse of state resources.

I was to be arrested.

I escaped through a sewer grate beneath the archives. My assistant, Marella, was not so fortunate. Her body was found with her tongue removed and her eyes open to the sky. A coin had been placed on her chest.

The coin bore the flame.

What I have learned in the weeks since has only confirmed my fears. The Guild does not merely bribe. It supplants. It eliminates. It occupies.

There exists—according to a source I will not name—a protocol followed by corrupted magistrates known as “The Silence.”

It entails:

  1. Identification of non-compliant elements.
  2. Extraction or termination of threats.
  3. Rewriting of records to cover all traces.
  4. Coordination with higher Guild operatives through intermediaries placed in the Ministry of Review.

I have tracked six uses of this protocol in the last calendar year.

The affected cases have vanished. As though they never existed.

I send this letter not in hope of action, but in the dimming possibility that it might survive me.

I have no allies left within the Office of Inquiry. No court will hear me. No guard will protect me.

I do not know how far the Guild’s reach extends, but I believe it now encompasses:

  • Three Heptarchal Councillors
  • At least eleven sitting magistrates
  • Two senior officials in the Treasury
  • And a dozen members of the city guard, sworn to uphold the very law they now defile

This letter will be delivered by a trusted contact. If he does not return within three days, assume he has been intercepted.

To those who would dismiss my words: I pray you wake soon.

To those who still believe in law: act now.

To those in the Guild who read this: I was never your servant. I will die as I lived—speaking truth.

My name is Eland Moreau. I was once a loyal servant of Wiete.

I write now as a hunted man.

This world is rotting from within. If justice lives, it must now crawl through ash to breathe.

You will know me by what I leave behind: questions that cannot be silenced, a trail of burnt files, and the echo of a voice that refuses to die.

May this letter reach the hands of someone who still listens.

And may Creation protect us all.

—Eland Moreau

Editor’s Note: Moreau’s body was never found. His disappearance remains an unresolved entry in the archives of Nordturm. The copy of this letter was smuggled from the archives by an unknown whistleblower and published under restricted circulation. It remains banned in several satrapies.

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Dawn vs Guild of Assassins: Which Series Comes First?

Not sure whether to start with Dawn of Assassins or Guild of Assassins? This reading guide breaks down the differences between the two series—from tone and themes to timeline and characters—so you can choose the perfect entry point.

Which Series Should You Read First—Dawn of Assassins or Guild of Assassins?

If you’re looking to dive into the assassin-filled corners of the Ravenglass Universe, you might be wondering where to begin: Dawn of Assassins or Guild of Assassins?

The answer is simple—you can start with either.

Both series stand alone and can be read in any order.

It really comes down to what kind of story you want to read first.

Let’s break it down.

Release Order vs Timeline Order

If you prefer to read books in the order they were published, start with Dawn of Assassins.

This was the first series released and introduces you to the world through the eyes of Fedor and Lev—street-smart thieves who find themselves dragged into a world of blades and blood by the brutal assassin Soren.

If you’d rather follow the story in chronological order, begin with Guild of Assassins.

This series explores Soren’s tragic backstory—how a sculptor’s apprentice seeking justice for his father’s murder slowly loses himself in the shadows of the Guild.

Understand Soren Before or After?

This is the heart of the choice.

  • If you read Guild of Assassins first, you’ll understand Soren before you fear him. You’ll follow his descent from idealistic boy to ruthless killer—and by the time he appears as the master assassin in Dawn, you’ll see just how far he’s fallen.
  • If you start with Dawn of Assassins, you’ll meet Soren at his coldest. He’s the brutal, calculating mentor who gives Fedor and Lev no choice but to become killers. Then, Guild becomes a powerful look into how he ended up that way.
Jon Cronshaw's Guild of Assassins series.

Tone and Style

Each series has its own distinct flavour:

  • Dawn of Assassins is fast-paced, banter-filled, and leans into roguish fantasy with cons, capers, and reluctant heroes. At its core, it’s a story of found family, friendship, and resisting the darkness of the world.
  • Guild of Assassins is darker and more introspective. It’s a psychological grimdark tale about the cost of revenge, the erosion of morality, and the slow transformation of a young man into something he once despised.

Final Verdict

  • Want something sharp, punchy, with streetwise thieves and reluctant heroes? Start with Dawn of Assassins.
  • Want something darker, more emotional, and morally complex? Go with Guild of Assassins.
  • Want to follow the story as it happened in the world? Begin with Guild.
  • Want to read the series in the order they were published? Begin with Dawn.

Whichever path you take, both series lead you deep into the shadows of the Ravenglass Universe—and neither promises an easy way out.

👉 Get Guild Assassin free at joncronshaw.com/guildassassin.

An Examination and Refutation of the So-Called “Guild of Assassins”

From The Encyclopaedia of Civil Order and Rational Thought, Ninth Edition (893).

By Archibald F. Chistlethwaite, Fellow of the Collegium Historica et Jurisprudence, Nordturm.

It is with reluctant quill that I address the increasingly widespread and patently ludicrous assertion that a clandestine organisation known colloquially (and melodramatically) as the “Guild of Assassins” operates with impunity across the civilised territories of Wiete and beyond. One is tempted to dismiss such nonsense outright, consigning it to the same intellectual rubbish-heap as the flat world theory or the practice of communing with ghosts via tapping tables. And yet, this absurdity has gathered such momentum among the lower classes and—lamentably—some among the fashionable intelligentsia, that a sober rebuttal becomes, alas, necessary.

Let us be clear: assassins do exist. No rational person denies that individuals of violent disposition and mercenary inclination will, from time to time, accept coin in exchange for the illicit termination of a fellow human being. Just as highwaymen exist without forming an International League of Robbers, and drunkards stumble without enrolling in a Society of Inebriates, so too do murderers ply their loathsome trade without recourse to formal membership cards or annual banquets.

To suggest that there exists a structured guild—with rules, training, administration, and one presumes, branded stationery—is not merely an error; it is a deliberate assault on reason, order, and good taste. That a body politic such as our own would tolerate, much less overlook, the presence of a professionalised murder syndicate operating under a recognisable name is an insult to both our institutions and our intelligence.

The Origins of the Myth

The roots of this fabrication lie, predictably, in the fevered imaginations of penny dreadful authors and the credulous minds of those who consume them. Tales of shadowy cabals, secret handshakes, and cryptic initiation rites have always proven titillating to the under-educated and over-stimulated. The myth of the Guild offers the delicious allure of conspiracy without the burden of evidence.

One cannot ignore the influence of historical romance. The romanticisation of the assassin—the blade in the night, the whispered name, the poetic justice delivered by unseen hands—has always appealed to the idle minds of salon philosophers and adolescent scribblers. Combine this with the tragic decline of classical education, and it is little wonder we are besieged with fancies of assassin training schools, blood-forged contracts, and honour codes among murderers. Such narratives bear as much relation to the truth as does a child’s drawing to the architecture of the Palace of Welttor.

Absurdities Inherent in the Guild Theory

Let us apply the scalpel of logic to this carbuncle of misinformation.

1. Organisational Infrastructure: We are to believe that this so-called Guild maintains a network of recruitment, instruction, assignment, and payment across the known territories without detection. Are we to imagine offices in each major city? Regular payroll disbursements? Minutes from quarterly meetings? One envisions a secretary scribbling, “Item 4: increase in poisoning demand; committee to investigate seasonal variance.”

2. Recruitment: Whence come these killers? Are they poached from sculptors’ studios? Fished from fishing boats? Who interviews them? Is there a probationary period? Do they begin with kittens before progressing to barons? The logistics are laughable.

3. Training: Much is made in the more salacious pamphlets of a rigorous training regimen undertaken by Guild recruits. How, pray, does one conduct swordsmanship and stealth lessons without arousing suspicion? Do the Guild’s headquarters reside in a well-lit gymnasium? And who trains the trainers? Is there a credentialing body?

4. Payment and Client Relations: How are clients to locate the Guild? Are there brochures? A discreet office with a placard reading Deaths Arranged, Discretion Ensured? It strains credulity to its snapping point. Are payments rendered in coin, promissory note, or perhaps ravenglass? Does the Guild offer receipts?

5. Moral Code: The notion that a collection of cut-throats, brigands, and poisoners might adhere to a strict code of conduct is as credible as suggesting foxes maintain a union for the humane treatment of hens. Honour among killers is a concept found in the plays of Edric Morden—and nowhere else.

Convenient Conspiracies

Proponents of the Guild theory, when pressed for evidence, will inevitably fall back upon the oldest rhetorical refuge of the liar: that the very absence of proof is, itself, proof. “You see,” they claim, “the Guild is so effective, so utterly secret, that it leaves no trace!” This is the logic of the madhouse.

By this metric, one might also prove the existence of invisible dragons in the Crown’s privy. The absence of their droppings, after all, merely confirms their tidy habits.

A popular variant of this fallacy is the assertion that Guild members operate within society itself: embedded in merchant houses, constabularies, even the Magistracy. Such a claim not only libels the brave men and women who serve our public institutions but also renders the Guild unfalsifiable—a sure hallmark of bunkum.

The Economic Impossibility

Consider the cost. To fund the infrastructure of a continent-spanning assassin collective would require a treasury rivalled only by that of Ostreich. The training, housing, outfitting, and payment of hundreds of silent killers is not a modest undertaking. We are to believe this expenditure is met by sporadic commissions from brothel-owners and jealous siblings? Nonsense.

Moreover, an oversupply of assassins would undercut their own market. One cannot both be rare and ubiquitous. If killing-for-hire were so commonplace, the value of a life would plummet, and every petty squabble would end in bloodshed. We would be swimming in corpses, not idling in cafes.

Eyewitness Accounts: Or, the Infallibility of Rumour

Time and again, one is confronted with the testimony of some trembling ostler or besotted sailor who claims to have seen a Guild assassin in the act. These accounts tend to share certain features: darkness, distance, alcohol, and embellishment. As any trained observer knows, the human memory is a carnival mirror: entertaining, but not to be trusted.

Even more damning is the fact that such sightings invariably occur after the event. Never does one hear of a Guild assassin being interrupted, captured, or identified in advance. They are always glimpsed slipping away, vanishing into crowds, or retreating into the fog. Their passage is marked only by the sudden death of some minor noble or an inconvenient whistle-blower.

Might I suggest that these assassins are as much constructs of hindsight as of fiction? It is far easier to blame a mythical killer than to accept the all-too-real presence of vendettas, political silencing, or lovers’ spats gone awry.

The Cultural Role of the Guild Myth

So why, if the Guild does not exist, does the myth persist? The answer, like most answers worth anything, is psychological. The Guild serves a narrative function. It allows the populace to project its fear of chaos, of death, of unreasoning malice, onto a single, comprehensible symbol.

Better to believe in a dark, elegant guild than to confront the chaos of random violence. Better to imagine trained hands behind the blade than to accept the banality of murder. The Guild gives meaning to atrocity. That is its sole function.

A Final Word on Sanity and Sovereignty

As a scholar, a gentleman, and a loyal subject of the Heptarchy, I must affirm in the strongest possible terms that the very idea of an organised Guild of Assassins is both fantastical and corrosive. It undermines trust in our institutions, encourages paranoia, and distracts from the real work of maintaining law and order.

We must be vigilant not against mythical guilds, but against the human tendency to seek monsters in shadows rather than face the truths before us.

In conclusion, the Guild of Assassins is a fiction. A lie. A childish story told to frighten dull minds and entertain dilettantes.

That is the official position.

Let no further ink be wasted on the matter.

Editor’s Note: Archibald Chistlethwaite was found dead three months after publishing this entry, his throat expertly slit in his study. The local constable attributed the incident to a burglary gone wrong. No suspects were ever apprehended. The Encyclopaedia has elected to retain his article in full, for historical interest only.

🐉 Double Launch Week & A Passion Project Grows | Author Diary – April 18, 2025 📚✨

This week, I launched Wyvern’s Shadow and Blade of Sorrows, and began writing Ravenglass Legends Book 4—part of a newly planned seven-book passion project I’m excited to share with readers.

It’s been a big week!

I launched two new books:
🔥 Wyvern’s Shadow (The Ravenglass Throne, Book 2)
⚔️ Blade of Sorrows (Guild of Assassins, Book 3)

On top of that, I’ve started work on Book 4 of Ravenglass Legends.

I’ve made the decision to expand this into a seven-book series, with this fourth instalment serving as a mid-point in the larger story.

While it’s not my bestselling work, Ravenglass Legends remains my passion project—a world and cast of characters I care deeply about.

I’m writing it for the love of the story and hope readers will join me for the journey ahead.

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📚 Podcast Launch, Book Releases & A New Steampunk Adventure | Author Diary – April 11, 2025 ⚙️🐉

This week I’ve launched my new podcast Speculative Fiction Tales, prepared for the release of Wyvern’s Shadow and Blade of Sorrows, and started writing a new steampunk adventure novel featuring Lord Sidebottom.

This week has been all about juggling projects and getting things ready for some exciting releases.

I’ve been busy preparing my short stories for a new podcast—Speculative Fiction Tales. You can find it on your favourite podcast app or over on my YouTube channel.

I’m also gearing up for the launch of two books next week:
🐉 Wyvern’s Shadow (The Ravenglass Throne Book 2)
⚔️ Blade of Sorrows (Guild of Assassins Book 3)

On top of that, I’ve started work on a new side project—a steampunk adventure novel featuring Lord Sidebottom.

I’ve written several shorts with this character over the years, and I’m excited to finally have a novel concept that I’m really pleased with.

Lots happening—and plenty more to come!

⚔️ Forged in Blood Released, Free Guild Shorts & What I’m Watching | Author Diary – April 4, 2025 📚✨

Forged in Blood is out now! This week’s diary includes free Guild of Assassins short stories, available to download, plus thoughts on watching the intense Netflix drama Adolescence.

This week, I’m excited to announce that Forged in Blood is now available! It’s always a great feeling getting a new book out into the world.

I’ve also been working on some new Guild of Assassins short stories, which are now available to download for free at joncronshaw.com/guildassassin. If you’re enjoying the series, these are a great way to dig deeper into the world.

On the viewing front, I watched Adolescence on Netflix—a gritty, intense drama that I highly recommend if you’re in the mood for something powerful and thought-provoking.

Thanks as always for following along!

Villains in Dark Fantasy: Heroes Who Lost Their Way

Discover how dark fantasy turns heroes into villains. From Forged in Blood by Jon Cronshaw, explore Soren’s transformation and why the most compelling villains are created through rational choices and moral compromise.

The most compelling villains are often failed heroes.

In Forged in Blood, the second book in the Guild of Assassins trilogy, we witness Soren’s transformation from a justice-seeking youth into someone who can kill his closest friend without hesitation.

His journey exemplifies how dark fantasy creates villains not through sudden falls, but through a series of rational choices that lead to monstrous ends.

The Path to Darkness

What makes these transformations fascinating isn’t the destination, but the journey.

Soren begins with a noble goal: finding justice for his father’s murder.

Yet each step toward that goal requires compromise.

Learning to kill becomes necessary for survival.

Betrayal becomes a tactical advantage.

Friendship becomes a liability.

Morality becomes an obstacle.

The Rational Monster

The true horror in these stories lies not in dramatic moments of evil, but in how reasonable each choice seems.

When Soren finally betrays Alaric, it’s not a moment of malicious triumph—it’s the logical conclusion to a path he’s been walking all along.

Like Arthas in Warcraft or Anakin Skywalker’s transformation into Darth Vader, the fall comes through choices that seem necessary at the time.

Breaking Bonds

Dark fantasy understands that the most powerful corruptions require breaking fundamental human connections.

Soren sacrifices his friendship with Alaric.

Raistlin Majere abandons his twin brother.

Daemon Sadi in Anne Bishop’s Black Jewels series severs his ties to those he loves.

The Bloody Nine in Joe Abercrombie’s works forsakes companionship for survival.

These characters don’t just lose their connections—they actively sever them, believing isolation equals strength.

The Seduction of Power

What makes these transformations believable is how they tap into universal desires.

The need for justice.

The drive for excellence.

The pursuit of knowledge.

The thirst for power.

Soren doesn’t just become skilled at assassination—he finds he has a natural talent for it.

Like Baru Cormorant or Kvothe, his abilities make each compromise easier to justify.

The Point of No Return

Every villain’s journey has moments where turning back becomes impossible.

For Soren, this comes not with his first kill, but when he realises he’s begun to see the artistry in death.

Like Walter White’s transformation in Breaking Bad (though not fantasy, it follows the same arc), the change isn’t about necessity anymore—it’s about excellence.

Why These Stories Resonate

These transformations fascinate us because they challenge our assumptions about the nature of evil.

They force us to reconsider the power of choice.

They reveal the cost of ambition.

They highlight the strength and fragility of human bonds.

Perhaps most disturbingly, these stories force us to question our own capacity for darkness.

When we understand and even sympathise with each choice that leads to corruption, what does that say about us?

Beyond Simple Villainy

The best dark fantasy villains aren’t evil for evil’s sake.

They’re heroes who lost their way through choices we can understand, even as we recoil from the results.

In Forged in Blood, Soren’s transformation is horrifying precisely because we can follow his logic every step of the way.

These characters remind us that villains rarely see themselves as villains.

Like Marvel’s Magneto or Sanderson’s Lord Ruler, they often believe they’re still serving a greater purpose, even as their methods become increasingly monstrous.

What fallen hero arcs have resonated most with you?

At what point do you think these characters cross the line from hero to villain?

Share your thoughts in the comments below.

Join my Patreon community for early access to chapters, exclusive content, and behind-the-scenes insights into how these complex character transformations are crafted.

See how anti-heroes and villains evolve from concept to final form, and be part of the creative journey.

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How Sculpting Skills Create a Killer in Guild of Assassins

xplore how creativity transforms into a weapon in dark fantasy. From Forged in Blood by Jon Cronshaw, follow Soren’s journey from sculptor to assassin, where artistic precision and deadly intent blur the lines of morality.

What happens when an artist’s eye is turned to darker purposes?

In Forged in Blood, the second book in the Guild of Assassins trilogy, we follow Soren’s transformation from a sculptor’s apprentice to a professional killer.

His journey explores a fascinating theme in dark fantasy: how creative talents can be perverted into instruments of destruction.

The Artist’s Eye

Soren’s background as a sculptor doesn’t fade when he joins the Guild—it transforms.

His understanding of form, his attention to detail, and his appreciation for precision all make him a more effective assassin.

He approaches his targets as he once approached his sculptures, seeing the vulnerabilities, understanding where to apply pressure, and knowing exactly where to strike.

This perversion of artistic talent isn’t unique to Soren.

Consider Neil Gaiman’s Morpheus, who uses his creative powers to both inspire and torture.

Or think of Patrick Rothfuss’s Kvothe, whose musical gifts become weapons in their own right.

The Dark Side of Creation

What makes these transformations so compelling is how they challenge our assumptions about creativity.

We tend to think of artistic talent as inherently positive, a force for beauty and enlightenment.

Dark fantasy shows us how these same skills can serve darker purposes.

An eye for detail becomes crucial for surveillance.

Understanding of form transforms into knowledge of vulnerabilities.

Precision in art becomes precision in killing.

Creative problem-solving applies equally to infiltration and assassination.

The Craftsman’s Approach

In Forged in Blood, Soren applies his sculptor’s mindset to lockpicking, treating each lock as a puzzle to be solved, just as he once approached blocks of marble.

This mirrors how Brandon Sanderson’s Kelsier approaches Allomancy as an art form, showing how the methodical nature of craftsmanship can be applied to violence.

The Beauty in Darkness

Perhaps most disturbing is how these characters find beauty in their darker arts.

Just as Soren once saw potential in raw stone, he begins to see elegance in a perfectly executed assassination.

This reflects a broader theme in dark fantasy: how appreciation for craft can blur moral lines.

The Cost of Transformation

This transformation doesn’t come without cost.

As Soren’s artistic talents are turned to darker purposes, he loses something of his original creativity.

Like Joe Abercrombie’s Sand dan Glokta, whose torture techniques become a perverted art form, the ability to create beauty becomes corrupted by its application to violence.

Why It Resonates

These stories of transformed creativity resonate because they reflect real-world concerns about how talents can be misused.

They ask uncomfortable questions.

Does skill have inherent moral value?

Can art exist in destruction?

What happens when creativity serves darkness?

How does purpose change perception?

The Final Sculpture

By the end of Forged in Blood, Soren has become a different kind of artist.

His medium has changed from stone to shadow, his tools from chisel to dagger.

Yet he retains that fundamental drive to perfect his craft—only now, perfection means something far darker.

This isn’t just a story about corruption—it’s about transformation.

Like how Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein shows science perverted to horror, these narratives explore how creative gifts can be turned to unexpected purposes.

They remind us that talent itself is neutral; it’s purpose that defines its nature.

How have you seen creative talents transformed in other dark fantasy works?

What does it say about the nature of art and skill when they’re turned to darker purposes?

Share your thoughts in the comments below.

Experience the evolution of dark fantasy stories firsthand by joining my Patreon community.

Get early access to chapters, exclusive content, and behind-the-scenes insights into the creative process.

Watch as characters and plots transform from initial concept to final form, and join discussions about the craft of writing dark fantasy.

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Coming-of-Age in the Shadows: The Dark Fantasy Perspective

Discover how dark fantasy redefines coming-of-age stories by exploring the loss of innocence, the price of knowledge, and the corruption of ideals. Uncover the haunting truths behind Soren’s transformation in Forged in Blood.

Coming-of-age stories have always captivated readers.

When filtered through the lens of dark fantasy, they take on a particularly haunting resonance.

In my novel Forged in Blood, from the Guild of Assassins trilogy, we witness Soren’s transformation from an idealistic sculptor’s apprentice into a ruthless assassin.

His journey reflects a darker truth about growing up: sometimes innocence isn’t gently shed but violently stripped away.

Beyond Traditional Coming-of-Age

Traditional coming-of-age stories often focus on self-discovery and first experiences.

Dark fantasy takes these familiar themes and twists them, showing how knowledge can corrupt and experience can destroy.

When Soren first joins the Guild seeking justice for his father’s murder, he still believes in clear divisions between right and wrong.

By the end, those moral lines have blurred beyond recognition.

The Price of Knowledge

Like Kvothe in Patrick Rothfuss’s The Name of the Wind, Soren’s pursuit of knowledge and power comes with unexpected costs.

But where Kvothe’s story maintains elements of wonder, dark fantasy protagonists often discover that knowledge brings not enlightenment but disillusionment.

Think of Robin Hobb’s Fitz, whose training as an assassin forces him to confront brutal truths about loyalty and sacrifice.

Broken Friendships

One of the most painful aspects of dark coming-of-age stories is the destruction of childhood friendships.

In Forged in Blood, Soren’s relationship with his best friend Alaric slowly deteriorates as their paths diverge.

This mirrors George R.R. Martin’s treatment of the Stark children, showing how circumstance and choice can shatter even the strongest bonds.

The Loss of Choice

Perhaps the most terrifying aspect of these stories is how they strip away the illusion of choice.

When Soren begins his training, he believes he’s choosing his path.

Gradually, he realises he’s been manipulated from the start, much like Pierce Brown’s Darrow in Red Rising.

The real horror lies not in the loss of innocence itself, but in the recognition that it might have been inevitable.

The Corruption of Ideals

Dark fantasy coming-of-age stories often show how ideals become corrupted.

Soren begins as an artist, creating beauty from raw stone.

His transformation into an assassin perverts this artistic talent into something darker – he’s still shaping and creating, but now his medium is death.

This mirrors how Mark Lawrence’s Jorg Ancrath twists his noble education into tools for revenge and conquest.

Why These Stories Matter

These darker coming-of-age tales resonate because they reflect truths about growing up that more optimistic stories often ignore.

Knowledge can destroy as easily as it empowers.

Growth often requires sacrifice.

Childhood friendships don’t always survive into adulthood.

Our choices may be more limited than we believe.

Talent can be turned to dark purposes.

The Appeal of Darkness

What makes these stories compelling isn’t just their darkness, but how they reflect real aspects of growing up through a darker lens.

When Soren finally completes his transformation, it’s tragic precisely because we understand every step that led him there.

We see our own compromises and lost innocence reflected in these darker mirrors.

Beyond Simple Corruption

The best dark fantasy coming-of-age stories aren’t simply about corruption.

They’re about the complexity of growth, the price of knowledge, and the sometimes terrible choices we make in pursuit of our goals.

They remind us that growing up isn’t always about becoming better – sometimes it’s about becoming what we need to be to survive.

What dark fantasy coming-of-age stories have resonated most with you?

How do they differ from more traditional coming-of-age tales?

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Why Dark Fantasy Heroes Maintain Their Humanity

Discover why morality is essential in dark fantasy. Explore how characters like Soren in Guild of Assassins maintain their humanity despite walking dark paths, and why moral boundaries make these heroes relatable and compelling.

The best dark fantasy understands that even in shadow, some lights still flicker.

Characters who deal death, who walk morally grey paths, who compromise their principles – they still carry fragments of their original humanity.

These remnants often manifest not in what they do, but in what they refuse to do.

Soren’s Moral Anchors in Guild of Assassins

My novel Guild of Assassins explores this idea through Soren’s transformation.

Though circumstances force him to become a killer, to master arts of death, to participate in the brutal Threshing, he maintains certain lines he won’t cross.

His loyalty to Alaric, his rejection of Kierak’s needless cruelty, his struggle to retain something of his sculptor’s soul – these aren’t just character traits but anchors keeping him from completely losing himself.

The Cost of Holding Moral Lines

What makes these moral lines compelling isn’t their existence but their cost.

When Soren and Alaric maintain their friendship despite the guild’s pressure to compete, when they stand together during the Threshing rather than turn on each other, their choices matter precisely because they’re made against self-interest.

Like the best dark fantasy characters, their humanity shows most clearly when preserving it demands sacrifice.

Training as a Test of Morality

The training sequences particularly highlight this dynamic.

Each master represents a different flavour of moral compromise – Varus’s brutality, Tamasin’s poisonous arts, Quillon’s clinical detachment, Elysia’s manipulation.

Yet through their lessons, we see how students can master dark skills while refusing to completely surrender to darkness.

Technical capability doesn’t demand total corruption.

Humanity Through Small Resistances

This reflects something true about human nature – that morality often manifests not in grand gestures but in small resistances.

When Soren refuses to embrace Kierak’s sadistic philosophy, when he kills during the Threshing from necessity rather than pleasure, these subtle distinctions become powerful markers of retained humanity.

Morality Within the Guild’s Structure

Even the guild itself inadvertently highlights how moral lines persist in darkness.

Its elaborate codes, its complex traditions, its ritualised violence – these suggest that even professional killers need structure, limits, meaning.

Like the best dark fantasy institutions, it shows how organisations built on darkness still create their own form of ethics.

The Adaptability of Moral Compasses

Perhaps most powerfully, these stories show how moral compasses can adapt without completely breaking.

When Soren becomes capable of killing, when he masters deception and manipulation, his values don’t vanish but evolve.

He develops a harder code – one that accepts necessity while rejecting needless cruelty.

Like the best dark fantasy characters, his morality becomes more complex rather than simply corrupted.

Friendship as a Moral Anchor

The relationship between Soren and Alaric demonstrates how friendship itself can become a moral anchor.

Their loyalty to each other provides a fixed point, a reminder of who they were before darkness claimed them.

Through maintaining this connection despite everything trying to break it, they preserve something of their original humanity.

The Threshing: Morality as a Matter of Survival

The Threshing sequence crystallises this theme.

When Soren faces Kierak, their differing moral lines become literal matters of life and death.

Kierak’s embrace of cruelty versus Soren’s reluctant necessity, their different approaches to killing – these aren’t just character traits but fundamental choices about retaining humanity in darkness.

Morality as a Spectrum

This speaks to something profound about human nature – that morality isn’t binary but spectral.

Through characters like Soren, we explore how people can walk dark paths while maintaining internal lines they won’t cross.

Their complexity feels real precisely because it acknowledges both darkness and light.

The Burden of Preserving Humanity

Yet these stories don’t present preserved humanity as simple virtue.

Through Soren’s journey, we see how maintaining moral lines can become its own kind of burden.

Every choice to retain humanity, to refuse complete corruption, carries cost.

Like the best dark fantasy, it shows how even choosing light can demand sacrifice.

Why These Characters Resonate So Deeply

Maybe this is why these characters resonate so deeply.

They show us how humanity can persist even in darkness.

Through Soren’s struggles to maintain connection, to reject needless cruelty, to preserve something of his original self, we explore how people might walk dark paths without completely losing themselves.

Dark Fantasy’s Most Compelling Characters

In the end, dark fantasy’s most compelling characters aren’t those who simply embrace darkness or light, but those who navigate the shadows while maintaining personal lines they won’t cross.

Through characters like Soren, we examine how morality can adapt without breaking, how humanity can survive in darkness, how light can persist even in shadow.

Your Thoughts on Morality in Dark Fantasy

What moral lines do you think are most important for dark fantasy characters to maintain?

How do you think these choices define them?

Share your thoughts below.