When readers last left the beautiful and troubled, half-submerged city of Tiankawi, everything had changed. At the end of Eliza Chan’s Fathomfolk, the murder of a god causes the city to nearly collapse—and the sacrifice of the dragon Kai fundamentally changes the humans of the city. To save the humans from drowning, a wish on Kai’s pearl granted humans gills; they now have the ability to breathe underwater. Though it saves their lives, it makes them one step closer to the second-class citizens who have literally sacrificed their magic to power the city: the fathomfolk.
As Tideborn opens Mira, siren, Minister of Fathomfolk, and head of the border guard (as well as Kai’s wife), and former radical activist Nami, a water dragon and Kai’s sister, are trying to put the damaged city back together. Despite Kai’s sacrifice, not everyone is pleased with the changes. The fathomfolk radicals Nami used to think had the right ideas about tearing down the city are promoting not just equality for fathomfolk, but positions of rule over humans. The Cleaven, a group of human radicals, are seeking to surgically remove the gills they never asked for. All Mira has ever wanted is for Tiankawi to be a better place for everyone, especially for the have-nots who grew up poor, like she did. And though Kai’s sacrifice looked like it would be the beginning of a good thing, instead, she’s still dealing with the wealthy and powerful who think they can ignore change, keep the status quo, and not be troubled by the knowledge that the dead god’s mate is out there, likely on the way to destroy Tiankawi.
Nami isn’t sure what her new role should be in Tiankawi, but she finally believes in Mira’s vision, and she wants to see a future where fathomfolk and humans can share the city together. When her mother, the dragon queen of Yonakuni, Jiang-Li, arrives for Kai’s memorial, it becomes clear that her mother doesn’t hold the same vision. Jiang-Li will always want what’s best for Yonakuni, no matter the cost to humans or to Tiankawi, and Nami’s inability to side with her is a disappointment. That fraught relationship only puts Nami more firmly on Mira’s side, so when Mira asks her to undertake a dangerous mission to intercept the mourning god, Nami agrees, putting together a crew she thinks will give her the best chance not only at succeeding in saving the city, but in forming a brighter future. The problem is, not everyone on her crew feels the same way—including her toxic boyfriend and head of the fathomfolk radicals, Frith, who seems determined to undermine any authority Nami might possess.
Cordelia, a sea witch, was instrumental in saving the city from the last disaster, but it cost her access to her two children. Her human husband, a politician whose career she bolstered over their marriage, gave her an ultimatum: stay human and stay trapped, or leave and never see their children again. As he poisons their daughter against all fathomfolk, Cordelia expands a criminal empire, finding herself more prosperous than ever before. She even discovers a way to go legit, help people, and still profit. But what she wants is her daughter back. With help from her son, Gede, the Minister of Defense and the head of the city’s guard, she manages a brief reconnection—but she believes that the sea witch killed her real mother and that Cordelia is lying.
These three women were the center of Fathomfolk, and now they are Tideborn’s future, driving the story and their lives, and mourning their losses each in different ways. For Mira, her grief is physical; she’s running herself ragged trying to make Kai’s sacrifice worth it when she can’t truly imagine anything being worth losing him, not even the city they both loved. Nami has no tears, though she misses her perfect brother, but she’s finding that she’s not sure how to get out from the shadow he cast when he was living, let alone the one he left when he died. And Cordelia is fueled by rage, insisting her motives are selfish, but almost accidentally doing good for the larger community. All three of these perspectives show the dynamics of the city, the fate at stake, and the futures that could be, both good and bad. Through their points of view, readers see that between the two sides of extremists, there’s possibility. There’s a narrow line where things could get better for everyone if only people can accept good things for those they’ve traditionally hated.
Chan’s world is pushed and pulled by extremes, by groups who declare there’s only one group who should be considered people. While it’s understandable that those who have been harmed and downtrodden for so long should want to rise against the system that oppressed them, Chan’s protagonists make it clear that the tactics of destruction aren’t acceptable. Even Nami comes to understand that fighting her way through a problem with violence isn’t the best answer—or even the answer at all.
Part of the way that Chan bolsters this perspective is through characters who were introduced in the previous book, who rise into more prominent positions. Eun, the human librarian determined to preserve the city’s true history, doesn’t shy away from the bad things that happened. She wants to see a future where they have learned from the mistakes they’ve made, the hurts they’ve caused. Gede, the sea witch’s son, has a chance to finally come to terms with his own heritage. He’s lived disguised as a human for so long, that he felt he never lived up to Cordelia’s harsh standards for him as a sea witch, and he stopped trying. But now, when everyone has gills, he starts to believe that there might be a way for him to truly be himself. Others—Mira’s mother, Nami’s friend Dan, even a disgraced minister—add their own stories to the layers of Tiankawi, giving readers a sense of how deep the city goes.
The second book in a duology, especially one that follows a truly brilliant opening, can be difficult to write well. Readers come in with sets of expectations, as well as a need to see their investment in the characters pay off. Tideborn is a sequel that successfully draws all its loose ends together, braiding them together in an utterly satisfying way. It’s a novel of hope, of not giving up, and of showing that people are better when they work together. While much of both Fathomfolk and Tideborn shows a divided community, as the duology concludes, the sense that coming together is possible, both in the face of disaster and in times of peace, permeates the ending. There can be forgiveness, there can be healing, and there can be a future worth working for.
Tideborn is available now wherever books are sold.
Alana Joli Abbott is a reviewer and game writer, whose multiple-choice novels, including Choice of the Pirate and Blackstone Academy for Magical Beginners, are published by Choice of Games. She is the author of three novels, several short stories, and many roleplaying game supplements. She also co-edits fantasy anthologies for Outland Entertainment, including Rising Tides (which is currently live on Kickstarter) and edits novels, like the debut paranormal mystery A Promise of Sirens by V.L. Barycz, due out in July. You can find her online at VirgilandBeatrice.com.
