About the Book

Book: Of Dawn and Embers (The Fireborn Epic Book Three)

Author: Gillian Bronte Adams

Genre: YA Epic Fantasy

Release Date: January 13, 2026

He rides a dawnling, a steed of light and glory, destined to restore.

Jakim Ha’Nor will save his people, or so says the prophecy that upended his life and drove his brothers to betray him. Now, he has returned as the dawnrider to fulfill his purpose and reconcile with his brothers—only to find himself embroiled in a war.

Captured in the fallout of a deadly attack, Rafi grapples with the ghosts of the past. His brother is alive but no longer himself, and Rafi will stop at nothing to save him. Farther up the coast, Ceridwen strives to reignite the embers of the rebellion to burn the empire down. When Rafi is sentenced to execution before the imperial court, Ceridwen must rally every spear and steed she can for a blistering strike at the heart of the capital.

But the empire’s schemes are already in motion, and Jakim’s two missions collide when an unexpected encounter with one of his brothers reveals the true threat behind the imperial thirst for ancient secrets. Hidden forces intend to unleash a cataclysmic power, spurring Ceridwen, Rafi, and Jakim to challenge the full, crushing might of the empire for the fate of the world.

Stars weep and ash falls as the tides of battle propel the Fireborn queen, the Sea-Demon prince, and the Dawnrider priest toward a meteoric clash in this thunderous series finale.

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About the Author

Gillian Bronte Adams is a sword-wielding, horse-riding, wander-loving fantasy author, rarely found without a coffee in hand and rumored to pack books before clothes when she hits the road. Working in youth ministry left her with a passion for journeying alongside children and teens. (It also enhanced her love of coffee.) Now, she writes novels that follow outcast characters down broken roads, through epic battles, and onward to adventure. And at the end of a long day of typing, she can be found saddling her wild thing and riding off into the sunset, seeking adventures of her own (and more coffee).

More from Gillian

This is, at its core, a book about hope. I discovered that fact partway through the writing process. Of Dawn and Embers is the cataclysmic finale to an epic fantasy trilogy where warriors bond with elemental warhorses and the action sequences strike with ever-increasing intensity from page one, and I was halfway through drafting it before I realized that beneath the searing visuals, the blistering pace, and the moments that set your heart thundering in your chest, this story sings with hope as a powerful undercurrent.

But you’re the author, you say. How could you not already know that?

Some authors go into each project with a specific theme in mind. They begin fully aware of the deeper meaning of the story they want to tell, and they intentionally structure the sequences of the unfolding plot and character arcs to match. I, on the other hand—while an avid worldbuilder who loves creating layered fantasy stories with multiple characters facing their own paths of growth—often wind up surprised by the overarching themes that also surface through those characters’ individual journeys.

Themes of identity and worth. Of finding the beauty in our broken stories. And, in this case, of hope.

Not the soft and feathery kind, fluttering in your chest. Or the brightly optimistic kind that lends itself to cheerful sayings. But the kind of hope that dares to kneel in the ashes, with blood on its teeth and knuckles, and trust that the sun will rise again. The kind of hope that endures and keeps on enduring. The kind of hope that is as stubborn and resilient as an ember’s deep and fiery glow, waiting to be rekindled with a touch of the morning breeze.

That’s the kind of hope that I find myself clinging to in my own life. Because we live in an age where discouragement can seem rampant, flung in our faces with each news cycle and with every moment spent scrolling on this or that screen.

Even once I uncovered that underlying theme, it wasn’t until I reached the end of the first draft and started working back through that I realized just how deeply it had already been woven into the story. It was there in each breathtaking moment of connection between characters, in the first touch of gold breaking through the cloud-wrack, in the hearty meals shared around a fireside, in the friends who refuse to leave one another to face the darkness alone, and in the loyalty that proves a greater defense than any shield or weapon.

It fairly came singing to me off every page, a reflection on hope at the heart of the book.

On the ache of hope. The seeming foolishness of hope. The defiance of hope. The way hope can feel like fresh air to oxygen-starved lungs, and the way it can cause your chest to ache with the fear of losing it again. The way it holds you up and keeps you standing long after you expected to be on your knees. And the way a lack of hope can leave you grasping for some sense of control, lashing out in desperation to find your own way forward after you put your hope in something that proved incapable of enduring.

In the prologue, one of the main characters, Jakim, compares holding onto hope in the midst of hardship as a candle flame that he has had to grip tightly to shield from the buffeting winds to keep it from going out. And “lately, it had felt like the only way to keep it alive was to grasp it so tightly it singed him.”

If you’ve ever faced the long and aching wait for a hope to be realized, you know what it feels like for hope to sting. Proverbs 13:12 (NIV) talks about how “hope deferred makes the heart sick” but Hebrews 6:19 tells us where we can find that true and lasting hope that exists as “an anchor for our souls”: through the One who stepped into the darkest night in our place and took on our own hopeless state so that He could become our hope.

A hope that endures. That breathes life. That does not falter or fail. That doesn’t slip away. That isn’t in danger of burning out if we grip it too tightly.

A hope that holds onto us.

Later on, Jakim comes to the restorative realization that “Hope was not a candle flame. It was the dawn. Rising again and again after darkest night.”

Rising without any effort of his own. Rising beyond the pain of his circumstances. Rising steadfastly day by day.

And throughout the wild ups and downs of this book, through the aching chill of the dark nights and the resplendent glories of the new dawns, I hope that readers will walk away with that same assurance singing hope into their souls.