From beginning to end, this book is a fantastic, grimdark, and strikingly beautiful work by a rare literary talent with a remarkable career at Black Library, Aaron Dembski-Bowden.
In these posts titled Warhammer 40K, I’ll be discussing works from that universe. I won’t delve too deeply into the broader lore aside from the basics, so if you're not already familiar with the setting, you might find it difficult to follow. But if you don’t mind and simply want to learn about the stories themselves, then I’d be glad to have you along.
Also, fair warning, there will be spoilers.
Having said that, let’s dive into the contents, starting with Soul Hunter.
Our protagonist is Talos Valcoran, a member of the Night Lords Legion. In other words, he is a son of the deeply disturbed and psychopathic Primarch Konrad Curze, a creature who grew up alone on a fully industrialized planet called Nostramo, where he hunted down criminals and punished them in horrific ways, following his own twisted code of justice. I would give anything to have a book dedicated solely to stories about this unimaginable figure. He’s not the only Primarch who fascinates me, but he’s definitely in my top three.
Talos, as it turns out, has the gift of foresight—he sees visions of the future. He is a leading figure in First Claw, a warband of Night Lords.
Very early in Soul Hunter, he learns that he is fated to die. That knowledge becomes a driving force for everything that follows.
First Claw is led by a madman, Vandred, who has embraced Chaos, something that creates tension within the group, as Talos and others do not wish to follow that path. This isn’t surprising, considering what kind of warband we're dealing with. These beings are not exactly models of cohesion.
Alongside this narrative, we follow Septimus, a human slave to the Night Lords, who offers his own perspective on everything that happens, and what happens is far from pleasant, to say the least.
In Blood Reaver, we find First Claw exhausted and depleted, their ship heavily damaged, with barely any resources left.
Talos begins to see his end approaching.
They become involved in a mission arranged through a pact with the Red Corsairs, space pirates, not exactly saints themselves (not that the Night Lords are any better). Huron Blackheart, their leader, promises assistance if they take part in an assault on an Imperial space station and the Night Lords agree.
And then all hell breaks loose.
It’s chaos.
The reader gets a visceral sense of just what the sons of Curze are capable of. Many bodies fall, mostly those of the Astra Militarum.
To give you an idea of their tactics: they induce terror by hijacking comms and broadcasting screams of pain, they cut power to plunge everything into darkness, and they leave behind mutilated corpses to send a clear message, that death is coming. And when I say they leave bodies behind, I don’t mean scattered randomly. They arrange them strategically, ensuring they’ll be discovered. They take their time.
It’s methodical.
Eventually, the station falls under the control of the Night Lords and the Red Corsairs. As one would expect from Bowden, the agreement doesn’t hold. Blackheart tries to trap Vandred, and in response, violence erupts again.
They manage to escape, nearly destroying the station in the process, and return to their ship more fractured than ever. Talos is gravely wounded, both physically and mentally. Some members begin to descend further into the grip of Chaos.
As for Septimus, he makes it through—and with company. But I’ll come back to him in the next book.
Here comes the climax: a piece of blood-soaked literary embroidery.
In Void Stalker, a fantastic title, Talos is plagued by constant nightmares of his impending death, but he seems to have accepted it, in a way.
The central conflict is between the Night Lords and the Eldar. There’s a brilliant touch by the author: the Eldar, too, had visions of Talos’s arrival, as a harbinger of doom.
A chilling detail, in my view.
During the battle, Talos is killed, and it happens in a way I truly cannot describe. I mean that literally, anything I try to say would fall short of how Bowden renders it, with such tragic weight, realism (as odd as that might sound in context), immediacy, and yet poetic symbolism. His body is retrieved by the surviving members of the warband and placed deep within the ship, in a chamber where it likely won’t ever be found again.
Finally, on the human side of the story: Septimus, along with Octavia, the navigator, find a way to escape the carnage. We’re not told exactly where they go, only that it’s somewhere else. Possibly anywhere better than where they were. That alone offers the faintest glimmer of hope, though I hesitate to call it that with certainty, because these stories are called grimdark for a reason.
To close this rather long post, I want to share one final thought about Aaron Dembski-Bowden.
He masterfully portrays concepts such as humanity within a monstrous being, building a bleak atmosphere where words like fear, decay, the absence of free will, and damnation coexist, somehow harmoniously, with loyalty, companionship, and belief. What he offers the reader is an experience that you immediately recognize as rare.
That’s all for now.
Until next time, take care—and keep reading.
It’s important!
Accompanying Notes:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5GkoShU3xX4
https://open.spotify.com/album/1CZwyjL96gGx4PryOIFNYn?si=bdMHpi6GSdWdF53Vo9iTOA
https://open.spotify.com/album/7hriIeLMviZKpNfcXgpsd8?si=DAsOL2E6QsWi9i4_UWMhUA
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