![]() ![]() Watching Tarisai distance herself from her loved ones, often seeing their concern only in the worst of lights, was painful but all too believable. It's hard to make me want to yell about emotional decisions like you'd yell at someone going into the basement in a horror movie, but that was absolutely the vibe here. ![]() ![]() She is literally haunted, but by thoughts she'd have had anyway. ![]() This theme is one of the most arresting parts of Redemptor: No one person can make up for the deaths of thousands of children, or the abuse of the impoverished by the nobility - but the ghosts and demons that taunt Tarisai tell her that in fact she can, and she must. Though Redemptor struggles with an overly large cast, Tarisai's arc and the empathy you feel for her (and her guilt) more than makes up for it. Tarisai's guilt is the true antagonist of the book, driving her to dark corners of her mind, where she risks using her powers to control and dominate others "for their own good" - and allowing the abiku to manipulate her. In that first book, we saw Tarisai make a bargain with the abiku, spirits of the underworld, to end a pact that had kept peace at the price of children's lives: She must form her own ruling council, linked by the psychic power of the Ray, then surrender herself to the underworld in two years' time. After the events of Raybearer, Tarisai is now the empress of Aritsar - but laden with grief and guilt. Redemptor continues the breathtakingly beautiful tale of a young woman who is being torn apart by the responsibilities of being both empress and sacrifice. ![]()
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