Motherhood and Sacrifice in A Day of Fallen Night

Introduction

In A Day of Fallen Night, the second book of The Roots of Chaos series, Samantha Shannon weaves maternal love and sacrifice into the very fabric of her epic fantasy. The thematic claim at the heart of the novel is that motherhood demands a constant surrender of self—whether through the grief of a lost child, the physical ordeal of birth, or the agonising choice to fight while carrying life. This theme is explored across multiple plotlines, showing that sacrifice is not a single act but a lifelong commitment, and that the weight of that commitment can both break and fortify a mother. By tracing the journeys of Tunuva Melim, Glorian Berethnet, and Dumai of Ipyeda (through her mother Unora), Shannon examines the complexities of love, loss, and the lengths mothers will go to protect their children.

Maternal Love and Loss: Tunuva Melim

Tunuva’s story is a testament to the enduring nature of maternal grief. Years before the novel’s present, her infant son Armul was kidnapped, and she spent decades searching for him. In a pivotal farewell scene in Chapter 92, Tunuva finally meets her grown son—now known as Wulf—who has come to the Priory of the Orange Tree. Their parting is charged with the pain of lost time. Tunuva gives Wulf a spear she made herself, a practical gift that also symbolises her protective love. He tells her he remembered her voice and her love, and that she is “more than I could ever have dreamed.” After he leaves, Tunuva weeps beneath the orange tree, a symbol of the Priory’s life and continuity, pressing her cheek to its trunk. The tree bears fruit “like candlelight,” offering comfort to the grieving mother. This moment encapsulates the paradox of her sacrifice: she loses her son again to a world at war, but she gains the knowledge that he loves her and honours her. The relief she feels—that he did not condemn her as a witch—underscores the fear that many mothers carry: that their best efforts may be misunderstood. Tunuva’s grief is not erased; she works it “like clay on a wheel,” shaping it into something she can carry.

Later, in Chapter 36, Tunuva assists her sister-wife Siyu in childbirth. As Siyu suffers, Tunuva is flooded with memories of her own son’s birth: “a ghost fed at her breast. A ghost cried in the dark vaults of her memory.” She forces the past aside to help Siyu, demonstrating that a mother’s love can be both personal and communal. This scene also shows the physical sacrifice of childbirth—Siyu’s agony, the need for Denag’s pain-relief blend, and the risk of death. Tunuva’s role as a midwife highlights how maternal sacrifice extends beyond one’s own children.

Sacrifice for the Future: Unora and Dumai

Unora’s story, told in flashback, frames motherhood as a gambit for survival and redemption. As orphaned daughter of a disgraced governor, she awakens the dragon Pajati, gains rain, and makes her way to the imperial court. She begins a secret romance with the Emperor Jorodu, only later realising he is the Dancing Prince she loved. When she becomes pregnant, the Kuposa attempt to poison her. In Chapter 9, we see Unora’s ultimate sacrifice: she follows Dumai into a blizzard to save her daughter from a saltwalker, lying cold and ashen herself. Dumai screams for help, finding her mother nearly dead from exposure. Unora’s willingness to risk her life for Dumai is a stark contrast to the politics of the court. She chooses her child over her own safety, a pattern repeated by other mothers in the novel. Unora’s silent endurance—she survives the poisoned well, the isolation of Mount Ipyeda, and the cold—shows that sacrifice is often invisible, a quiet determination to give a child a chance. This echoes the novel’s broader theme: mothers bear the weight of their children’s futures, even when those children (like Dumai) must later make their own sacrifices.

The Queen’s Choice: Glorian Berethnet

Glorian’s arc is perhaps the most visceral exploration of sacrifice in the novel. As Queen of Inys, her body is never truly her own; she is bred to produce an heir for the Berethnet line. In Chapter 100, she goes into labour while the battle for Inys rages on Cenning Moor. The chapter title, “95 West,” sets the scene in the caves of Hollow Crag. Her labour stalls because her body knows there is no safety. Bourn, the midwife, reports that the child refuses to come. Glorian feels trapped, “as helpless as her child.” Yet she finds a moment of fury and resolve: “All those who give life are warriors.” She moves to the floor, kneeling as if in prayer, and with the help of Helisent and Florell, she pushes Sabran into the world. The birth is both a triumph and a sacrifice; Glorian describes it as “another perfect sacrifice, chained to her legacy.” After holding her daughter, she immediately prepares to ride out to face the dragon Fýredel. This decision—to fight while still bleeding from childbirth—is the ultimate expression of maternal sacrifice: she will give her life for Inys, but first she must give her daughter life.

In Chapter 102, Glorian confronts Fýredel on Cenning Moor. She tells her ladies, “I have continued the bloodline of the Saint. That was my bounden duty as a Berethnet. The other, as a queen, is to protect my realm.” Here, sacrifice takes the form of duty—she must die so her people may live. Yet the dragon does not kill her; instead it speaks of a future return. Glorian survives, but carries the knowledge that her daughter will inherit the same burden. In Chapter 108, after a threat from Prince Guma regarding Sabran’s future, Glorian’s maternal instinct flares. She runs into the night with her baby, desperate to protect her from the cycle of political marriage and self-surrender. Siyu finds her and offers solidarity: “All women can be sisters. We will be yours.” This moment shows that maternal sacrifice can be eased by community, but never fully lifted.

The Price of Motherhood: Symbolism and Complexity

Shannon uses recurring symbols to deepen the theme. The orange tree represents life, comfort, and the continuity of the Priory—a space where mothers and sisters support one another. The comet (Kwiriki’s Lantern) appears in Glorian’s confrontation with Fýredel, heralding the end of the age of fire and the beginning of a new era. The comet’s tail splinters, raining starlight, and Glorian laughs with wild relief—a sign that hope can coexist with sacrifice. The blue stone star remnant and the queen bell also echo themes of legacy and burden, though their specific connections to motherhood are less direct in the provided evidence.

Complexity arises from the contradictions within sacrifice. Tunuva loses her son twice, yet finds peace in his love. Glorian gives birth in the midst of war, then must hand Sabran over to a destiny she herself resented. Unora survives to see Dumai become a priestess, but her sacrifice leaves emotional scars. The novel asks whether these sacrifices are noble or tragic—or both. The answer lies in the women themselves: they do not sacrifice blindly, but with awareness of the cost. They choose to love their children despite the pain, and that choice is what makes them heroic.

Study Questions and Answers

1. How does Tunuva’s grief for her son Armul shape her actions in the novel?
   Tunuva’s long search for her kidnapped son drives her to cross the world and finally reunite with him as Wulf. Her grief surfaces intensely during Siyu’s childbirth, when memories of Armul’s birth overwhelm her. Yet she channels her pain into helping others, showing that maternal loss can be transformed into strength and compassion.

2. In what ways does Glorian’s labour scene challenge traditional ideas of royal femininity?
   Glorian gives birth on the floor of a cave, rejecting the passive role of a queen in labour. She calls herself a warrior and later rides out to face a dragon while still bleeding. This reframes motherhood as an active, even militant act, asserting that a queen’s body is hers to command, even as it serves the realm.

3. What role does the orange tree play in the portrayal of maternal comfort?
   After Tunuva parts with Wulf, she weeps beneath the orange tree, whose fruit glimmers “like candlelight, as if to comfort her.” The tree is a living symbol of the Priory’s continuity and the support of the Mother goddess. It offers Tunuva a space to grieve without judgment, linking motherhood to the natural cycle of growth and renewal.

4. How does Unora’s sacrifice differ from Glorian’s, and what does this say about class and power?
   Unora is a disgraced governor’s daughter who risks her life in a blizzard to save Dumai; her sacrifice is private and without a crown. Glorian’s sacrifice is public and wielded as political duty. Unora’s story highlights that maternal love transcends rank, while Glorian’s shows how power compounds the weight of sacrifice.

5. Does the novel suggest that maternal sacrifice is inherently redemptive, or does it critique the expectation of self-annihilation?
   The novel critiques the expectation that mothers must give everything. Glorian bitterly reflects that her daughter is “bound” to a legacy of sacrifice, and Tunuva’s grief never fully heals. Yet redemption appears in moments of connection—Wulf’s love, Siyu’s solidarity. Shannon suggests that while sacrifice can be painful, it can also forge bonds that make survival meaningful.