Thrilling and Introspective: We Hunt the Flame by Hafsah Faizal

Series: Sands of Arawiya

Release Date: May 14, 2019

Format: Hardcover

Rating: 4/5 stars

The story We Hunt the Flame reminds me of a cold, dark forest: simplistic in its beauty and much more than it seems. Simplistic beauty in a story is derived from a novel that is focused on character development and introspection. This book possesses a broad thematic foundation, which requires each main character’s introspection (the heroine, Zafira and the hero, Nasir) for the reader to completely feel the impact of the novel. Therefore, the main point of We Hunt the Flame is to confront the self-identity of each main character (hunter versus huntress; survivor versus Prince of Death) and how themes of morality, love, truth and honour play a role in how they self-identify. Therefore, this book might not cater to the reader who doesn’t enjoy a slower starting plot and the self-reflection rampant in this novel.

The story begins in Zafira’s small village, which now exists in permanent winter as her land continues to spiral towards darkness after the disappearance of magic many years ago. Zafira is a hunter who protects her village from starvation by hunting in the Azr, located in the village forest, enshrouded in darkness and comprised of sentient magic. No one except Zafira has ever entered the Azr and come back. The fact that Zafira always finds her way home makes her persona as a Hunter a legend within the land. However, ever since the disappearance of magic and the resulting chaos of the lands, women are seen as second-class citizens because long-ago magic was embodied through the reign of six sisters. The infamous six sisters each had their own territory whose magic connected with the land and resulted in other people being able to practice their own magic. However, ever since the sisters’ death and the disappearance of magic, women have been blamed for the resulting turbulence and magic-barren lands. If a woman was to inherit a business, a man would become the owner instead because, in a woman’s possession, the business would inevitably fail–so says their culture. Therefore, if anyone were to discover Zafira is a Huntress, not a Hunter, all of her successes and her legendary feats would be reduced to nothing.

Let’s talk about the main characters

At the core of Zafira’s character, there is a schism between her indignant attitude towards the treatment of women in her society (rightfully so) and her fear of being discovered as a woman masquerading as a man. In fantasy novels that are medieval-like in their governmental systems, the trope of a woman pretending to be a man is familiar. This trope normally frustrates me quite a bit since the FMC usually perceives their womanhood as a weakness and is, therefore, ashamed of being a woman in a man’s world. However, in this book, women are thought to be cursed. They are, therefore, never allowed to be a figure of authority because if they are, anything a woman touches or owns will fail and wreak havoc on their village.

As I mentioned above, in We Hunt the Flame, character introspection is a huge part of this novel’s narration. Therefore, the care taken to understand Zafira’s mental state and personal desire to remain anonymous–separate from her fear of the government–makes it much less frustrating to read about her reluctance to come out as a Huntress. Not only does Zafira feel the need to protect her loved ones (family and friends), but she burdens herself with the responsibility to care and feed for her village; if her ability to hunt was taken away, who would feed them? Zafira’s character is, therefore, an interesting dichotomy of what she feels is her responsibility and her own personal desires. These desires (to solidify her accomplishments, save her family and her village, and find out why magic disappeared) push her to accept the quest to find the lost artifact, which will save her land. 

Nasir is the other perspective in We Hunt the Flame and is a compelling juxtaposition to the purity of Zafira’s character. Nasir is known throughout the land as the Prince of Death as he is a prolific assassin and the son of the king and the heir to the throne. Despite being the prince, Nasir’s life is anything but pleasant. Forced to become an infamous assassin, known for killing his father’s opposers–including innocents–Nasir has a very gray and possibly black moral compass.

Nasir, as a character, is a combination of various identities of which one lesson prevails that guides his actions: emotion is weakness. His identities range from a fearful assassin to a prince who has no power in his kingdom and a son abused and tormented by his father, the king. Despite the years of physical and emotional abuse, Nasir has not been able to let go of his compassion. Therefore, those he feels guilt towards or empathy or love are used as pawns to ensure he sticks to the king’s plans.

What makes Nasir such a unique character is that Hafsah is not afraid to have her character’s primary driver be the desire for his father’s approval. Once the reader fully grasps the abuse Nasir has suffered at his father’s hands, it is confounding to realize that Nasir’s number one desire in life is to be accepted by his father. The man is evil, and yet Nasir wants his love. When I read the book, I honestly couldn’t understand why Nasir simply didn’t run away from his father; he had the perseverance and the resources. I know that there were people Nasir was trying to protect, but at the end of the day, there would always be more people to use against Nasir because, as he admitted, no matter what was done to him, nothing could get rid of his compassion. Therefore, much of the introspection in Nasir’s POV is him trying to navigate his skewed moral compass as he realizes his mission to kill the Hunter after “he” finds the flame is not what it is perceived to be. 

Excellent Writing, the Foundation for Good World-Building

Hafsah’s writing is impressive in this book; it’s the kind of style that I appreciate in my fantasy novels, including magic, because she takes the time to construct her world and make the readers care about her main characters. When setting up an unfamiliar world for readers, there is always a question of structuring information without resorting to an info-dump. What I admired about Hafsah’s writing was that she didn’t resort to the usual way of circumventing the info-dump. Having the main character be as clueless as the reader allows the reader to learn about the new world alongside the main character. Instead, Hafsah acknowledges that both her characters have lived in this world their whole lives, so they understand their land’s cultural history.

Zafira and Nasir are also experts on their own stories: Nasir with his father’s rule and Zafira with her experience in the Azr and her village. Hence, the dialogue used in We Hunt the Flame alludes to each characters’ past and incorporates the very human trait of not wanting to discuss their trauma. But, they still recognize said traumas, and as a result, they subtly acknowledged them in their conversations. An example of this scenario, without spoilers, is that Zafira’s father and Nasir’s mother are no longer in the picture. Everyone close to them knows why, but the reader does not find out through an inner monologue, which is similar to how people recount their trauma in real life. People do not want to discuss their trauma with friends and family, nor do they want to think about it, especially if it is emotionally painful. Therefore, information the characters know is slowly and naturally revealed–for me, this kind of narration makes the story more genuine and realistic to how narration functions in real life. 

To define is to limit.

Zafira | We Hunt the Flame

The culture and magic that is so enmeshed in We Hunt the Flame put the world-building on another level. I really enjoyed the rules of magic within this world because even though each magic-user had their own abilities–and corresponding magic titles–their abilities weren’t limited to the definition of said titles. An example is those who manipulate reality can use it to hunt the impossible rather than simply trick their peers. Therefore, they can be an excellent hunter or a magician. It makes sense to me, seeing how magic is another tool that people have to accomplish their goals. I really felt that Hafsah didn’t want to define anything (or anyone) in absolute terms because nothing in life is really that straightforward, least of all magic. 

Why not 5-stars?

I did feel that some relationships and rationalizations for decision-making processes were told instead of shown. As I mentioned above, Nasir’s relationship with his father and his desire for approval were confounding. I felt a lot of inference required to understand why Nasir was still beholden to his father despite the abuse he suffered at his hands. It honestly took me until after I finished the novel to realize that everything Nasir did to please his father, in the beginning, wouldn’t be worth it if he abandoned his desire for his father’s approval. Therefore instead of contemplating his actions and leaving, he maintained the status quo, so at least everything horrible he has done had some “worth” to it.

Another confusing relationship was Nasir’s relationship with Altair, his father’s general (who is only a few years older than Nasir). It is quite apparent that Altair has more access to information than Nasir–he’s more “in the know.” Once on the mission to find the Hunter (and eventually kill him), it becomes quite evident that Altair is not all he seems to be. However, the relationship between Nasir and Altair is just weird. Both seem to resent the other, Nasir because Altair has his father’s approval and Altair because of what Nasir will do to obtain said approval. And yet, Altair also shuns Nasir for having compassion for people, as said compassion endangers people (the king indeed uses said people against Nasir to ensure Nasir does as he wishes, but damn, is that a harsh judgement). So when taking Altair’s measure, it’s as if there’s no way for Nasir to “win”: he’s judged no matter his behaviour. It becomes evident that Altair is aware of Nasir’s abuse by his father… and yet him knowing this doesn’t address his distaste (resentment? … hate?) toward Nasir. 

Despite my (limited) reservations, I seriously loved We Hunt the Flame and cannot wait for the sequel (coming January 2021). Hafsah really takes the time to navigate each of her main characters’ morality and acknowledges that while the intentions of the people who hunt the flame were not pure-hearted to begin with (except for Zafira), it does not mean that they are not redeemable. 

Who decides what’s out of reach, if not ourselves?

Zafira | We Hunt the Flame

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