In the treacherous world of vampire-ruled empires, survival often demands sacrifices that shatter the soul. Stacia Stark, known for her Kingdom of Lies series, returns with a visceral new romantasy, We Who Will Die, that plunges readers into an arena where death is entertainment and love is the most dangerous weapon of all.
When Desperation Becomes Destiny
Arvelle Dacien has built her entire existence around one unshakable truth: her younger brothers come first, always. Life in the Thorn district, the empire’s most impoverished quarter, has taught her that hope is a luxury she cannot afford. Yet when a mysterious vampire appears at her doorstep with an impossible proposition, Arvelle discovers that some bargains exact prices far steeper than anticipated. The deal is deceptively simple—survive the Sundering, the empire’s brutal gladiatorial trials, assassinate Emperor Vallius Corvus, and her critically ill brother Evren will receive the healing he desperately needs. The alternative? Watch her brother suffocate slowly, knowing she could have saved him.
What elevates this premise beyond typical fantasy fare is Stark’s unflinching portrayal of Arvelle’s internal conflict. This isn’t a heroine eagerly embracing her warrior destiny. Arvelle is a woman who once dreamed of being a healer, someone whose natural talent with a sword feels like a curse rather than a gift. Six years ago, she walked away from the arena, carrying scars both physical and emotional. The thought of returning fills her with a visceral dread that Stark captures in prose that alternates between raw and lyrical. Readers feel every reluctant step Arvelle takes back toward the blood-soaked sand, understanding that her courage stems not from fearlessness but from love that transcends self-preservation.
An Empire Built on Blood and Betrayal
Stark constructs a meticulously detailed Roman-inspired world where vampires reign supreme, their immortal existence sustained by an intricate hierarchy that places sigilmarked individuals—those born with magical abilities denoted by colored marks on their foreheads—just above mundane humans. The worldbuilding here is both expansive and intimate, revealing itself through Arvelle’s experiences rather than info-dumps. The ludus where gladiators train echoes with historical authenticity while incorporating fantastical elements that feel organic to the setting. The three-tiered society creates a powder keg of resentment, with vampires wielding absolute power, sigilmarked individuals navigating the dangerous middle ground, and mundanes serving as prey.
The magic system, centered around these sigil marks, introduces fascinating complexity without overwhelming readers. Arvelle’s gold sigil should have granted her formidable powers, yet her abilities remain frustratingly dormant—a deficiency that marks her as weak in a world that worships strength. This “broken” status becomes both vulnerability and unexpected advantage as the story unfolds. Stark skillfully weaves in mythology surrounding imprisoned gods, particularly Mortuus, the god of ruin, whose presence looms ominously throughout the narrative without overtaking the personal stakes at its core.
The author’s descriptions of the arena itself are breathtaking in their brutality. From the opening challenge that introduces readers to the horrifying spectacle of trapped magical creatures to the nautical battle that transforms the arena floor into a deadly aquatic battlefield, each trial pushes both characters and readers to their limits. These sequences showcase Stark’s ability to choreograph action that feels both cinematic and grounded, where every wound carries weight and victory never comes without cost.
Ghosts of Love Lost and Found
At the heart of We Who Will Die beats a second-chance romance as complicated as it is compelling. Tiernon, the enigmatic Primus who commands the emperor’s elite guard, carries secrets that reshape Arvelle’s understanding of their past. Six years ago, he vanished from her life without explanation, leaving behind wounds that never fully healed. His reappearance in the ludus forces Arvelle to confront feelings she buried beneath layers of survival instinct and carefully constructed bitterness. The slow burn between these two characters smolders with intensity born from shared history and unspoken longing.
In We Who Will Die, Stark excels at crafting emotionally resonant moments between Arvelle and Tiernon that reveal character depth through small gestures and loaded silences. A simple touch carries the weight of years of separation, while conversations dance around truths too painful to voice directly. The chemistry feels earned rather than manufactured, built on foundation of genuine connection beneath the hurt and betrayal. However, readers seeking constant romantic progression may find the relationship’s development occasionally overshadowed by survival imperatives and political machinations.
The addition of Rorrik, Tiernon’s brother and the emperor’s older son, introduces delicious tension to an already volatile situation. Rorrik embodies everything terrifying about vampire nobility—beautiful, cruel, and utterly unpredictable. His interactions with Arvelle crackle with menace and unexpected complexity that elevates him beyond simple antagonist. The dynamic between the three creates a triangle less about romantic competition and more about power, manipulation, and the dangerous games people play when survival hangs in the balance.
Shades of Gray in a Blood-Red Arena
Perhaps the greatest strength of We Who Will Die lies in its morally complex characters who defy easy categorization. Arvelle herself is no flawless heroine destined for glory. She makes mistakes, driven by desperation and love for her brothers that sometimes blinds her to larger consequences. Her relationship with Leon, her trainer and the father of her deceased best friend Kassia, demonstrates Stark’s willingness to explore grief’s messy reality. The guilt and resentment between them creates authentic tension that never fully resolves into comfortable reconciliation.
The supporting cast breathes life into the ludus, from Maeva, whose friendship with Arvelle develops organically despite the competitive environment, to the various gladiators who range from honorable to despicable. Each character serves a purpose beyond mere plot advancement, revealing different facets of this brutal society. Even minor characters like Albion carry enough depth to evoke genuine emotional response when their fates hang in the balance.
The vampire characters, in particular, benefit from nuanced portrayal that acknowledges both their predatory nature and their capacity for feeling. Stark doesn’t shy away from depicting the horror of their existence—the blood addiction, the sun madness, the casual cruelty born from centuries of power—while also revealing glimpses of humanity that make them more than monsters. This complexity extends to the sigilmarked community, where not everyone fighting the vampires does so from pure motives, and survival often demands compromises that stain the soul.
Where Strength Meets Sacrifice
The central theme of sacrifice permeates every aspect of the narrative. Arvelle’s journey isn’t about discovering hidden power or embracing a glorious destiny—it’s about calculating exactly how much of herself she’s willing to destroy to save the people she loves. Stark doesn’t romanticize these choices. The arena sequences showcase combat that is visceral and exhausting, where victory often feels hollow and survival comes at prices measured in more than physical scars. The gladiatorial trials force Arvelle to kill when mercy would feel more natural, to harden her heart when compassion threatens to break it completely.
The exploration of family bonds, particularly Arvelle’s relationship with her twin brothers Evren and Gerith, provides emotional grounding that elevates the stakes beyond personal survival. The whispering mirror that allows brief communications becomes a lifeline, each conversation weighted with things left unsaid and desperate reassurances. Stark captures the specific anguish of an eldest sibling forced to serve as parent, knowing that failure means not just personal death but the destruction of everyone depending on you.
We Who Will Die also examines power’s corrupting influence and how systems of oppression maintain themselves through both overt violence and insidious manipulation. The emperor’s arena serves multiple purposes—entertainment for the masses, propaganda reinforcing vampire supremacy, and a pressure valve for discontent that might otherwise explode into revolution. Arvelle’s unwilling participation in this spectacle forces her to confront uncomfortable truths about complicity and resistance.
Pacing and Structure Considerations
While We Who Will Die maintains generally strong momentum, particularly during arena sequences, the pacing occasionally stumbles under the weight of its ambitious scope. The middle section, focused on training and preparation between trials, sometimes feels repetitive despite Stark’s efforts to vary the challenges Arvelle faces. Readers seeking constant action may find these quieter periods less engaging, though they serve important purposes in character development and relationship building.
The plot’s reliance on withheld information creates both tension and occasional frustration. Major revelations about character identities and motivations come late enough to maintain mystery but sometimes feel artificially delayed. Tiernon’s true identity, while eventually well-explained, represents information that could have enhanced rather than diminished earlier portions of the story. Similarly, certain plot threads, particularly those involving the imprisoned god Mortuus and the mysterious murders plaguing the ludus, receive insufficient development to feel fully integrated into the main narrative.
The novel’s conclusion resolves immediate conflicts while positioning numerous threads for future installments. Readers invested in the story will appreciate the balance between closure and setup, though some may find the ending arrives too abruptly after the climactic confrontation. Stark leaves enough questions unanswered to create anticipation for the next book without resorting to cruel cliffhangers that leave readers feeling manipulated.
The Author’s Evolution
For readers familiar with Stark’s Kingdom of Lies series, We Who Will Die represents both continuation and evolution. The author’s signature emotional depth remains intact, alongside her talent for crafting relationships that feel authentic despite fantastical circumstances. However, this new series demonstrates increased confidence in worldbuilding complexity and willingness to embrace darker tones without sacrificing moments of genuine tenderness and hope. The Roman influences feel more thoroughly integrated than the historical inspirations in her previous work, creating a setting that resonates with familiar elements while maintaining its own distinct identity.
The prose itself has matured, balancing visceral action sequences with introspective character moments without feeling tonally inconsistent. Stark’s dialogue continues to shine, particularly in exchanges between Arvelle and various secondary characters that reveal personality through voice and word choice rather than exposition. The first-person narration allows readers deep access to Arvelle’s thoughts while maintaining enough mystery about other characters to sustain intrigue.
Final Verdict
We Who Will Die succeeds as both standalone entertainment and series opener, delivering a complete arc for its protagonist while establishing foundations for future installments. The novel’s greatest assets—complex characters, morally gray choices, and a richly imagined world—outweigh its occasional pacing issues and delayed revelations. Stark has crafted a romantasy that respects readers’ intelligence while providing the emotional satisfaction expected from the genre.
We Who Will Die is not light escapism. The violence feels consequential, the romance carries genuine stakes, and the heroine’s journey toward empowerment requires genuine sacrifice rather than convenient power-ups. Readers who appreciate character-driven narratives with action that serves emotional development rather than existing for spectacle alone will find much to appreciate. Those seeking purely triumphant heroes or uncomplicated romantic resolutions should look elsewhere.
We Who Will Die particularly shines in its exploration of how love—whether romantic, familial, or platonic—becomes both motivation and liability in systems designed to exploit emotional connections. Arvelle’s fierce protectiveness toward her brothers drives every choice she makes, rendering her simultaneously more vulnerable and more dangerous than adversaries anticipate. This emotional core prevents the story from devolving into mere gladiatorial spectacle or predictable romantic beats.
For Readers Seeking Similar Experiences
Fans of Carissa Broadbent’s A Deal with the Elf King and The Serpent and the Wings of Night will recognize the morally complex romance and arena-based competition elements. Jasmine Mas’s Court of the Vampire Queen shares the vampire-dominated society and heroine-in-peril dynamics, while Rebecca Yarros’s Fourth Wing offers comparable slow-burn romance within competitive, deadly training environments. Jennifer L. Armentrout’s From Blood and Ash series provides similar world-building depth and complex romantic relationships.
For those drawn to the Roman-inspired elements, Madeline Miller’s The Song of Achilles offers more literary historical fantasy, while Pierce Brown’s Red Rising delivers comparable arena brutality within science fiction framework. Readers appreciating the family bonds central to Arvelle’s motivation might also enjoy Sarah J. Maas’s Throne of Glass series or Leigh Bardugo’s Shadow and Bone trilogy.
We Who Will Die establishes Stacia Stark as a voice worth watching in the romantasy space, delivering a debut to her Empire of Blood series that promises epic scope, emotional resonance, and characters worth investing in for the long journey ahead. Despite minor flaws, this is storytelling that understands what makes fantasy romance compelling—not just the romance or the fantasy, but the way they interweave to create something greater than either element alone.