Excerpts The Roots of Chaos Read an Excerpt From Among the Burning Flowers by Samantha Shannon A story of human resilience in the face of dire circumstances, set before the events of The Priory of The Orange Tree. By Samantha Shannon | Published on September 3, 2025 Comment 0 Share New Share We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from Among the Burning Flowers, a new fantasy novel in the Roots of Chaos series by Samantha Shannon, out from Bloomsbury Publishing on September 16. It has been centuries since the Draconic Army took wing, almost extinguishing humankind.Marosa Vetalda is a prisoner in her own home, controlled by her cold father, King Sigoso. Over the mountains, her betrothed, Aubrecht Lievelyn, rules Mentendon in all but name. Together, they intend to usher in a better world.A better world seems impossibly distant to Estina Melaugo, who hunts the Draconic beasts that have slept across the world for centuries.And now the great wyrm Fýredel is stirring, and Yscalin will be the first to fall… All children of Virtudom knew the old tales—taught in every sanctuary and every household, rich or poor. How the Nameless One—a vile red wyrm—had emerged from the Dreadmount to conquer the world, only to be vanquished by an Inysh knight, known to history as the Saint. Five hundred years later, the Dreadmount had erupted again, and from its mouth had soared five more wyrms, the High Westerns, led by Fýredel. All made in the image of the Nameless One. All bent, for no discernible reason, on the utter destruction of humankind. They had brought a flock of wyverns from the Dreadmount—smaller and more agile wyrms, no less terrible. On the orders of Fýredel, the wyverns had flown across the world, using its animals to breed vicious servants: basilisks, cockatrices, ophiotaurs, and many others. For over a year, the Draconic Army—the wyrms, the wyverns, and the beasts they had spawned—had laid waste to the continents in a time known as the Grief of Ages. They had razed cities, burned crops, and spread a plague that made the victim feel as if their blood was burning. At last, the Saint’s Comet had ended the violence, stripping the creatures of their fire. The creatures had crawled into every cave and mine and pit they could find, laying down to sleep like stone. There were thought to be many thousands of sleepers, lurking in the deep forgotten places of the world. For centuries, they had not stirred unless they were disturbed. But now the Draconic Army was waking of its own accord. Estina Melaugo hiked uphill, past firs, stone pines, and cork oaks. She still had no idea if the problem extended beyond Yscalin, how long it had been going on, or if King Sigoso knew of it. The beasts were stirring unpredictably, and so far, no wyverns or wyrms had been sighted. But even one Draconic brute could devastate a settlement. And where there was fear, there was always profit. That or a bowl of gruel and a sheep. ‘What did you think he was going to offer you?’ she muttered to herself. ‘A banquet and a milk bath?’ She flexed her right hand, then her left, committing the feel of her fingers to memory. One did not confront a sleeper and not expect to lose a limb. Culling was a crime of opportunity, like housebreaking. The creature might be on the hunt, wide awake, or lying still as a boulder. Even in a drought, this forest remained green and shaded, nourished by mountain streams, but the ground was unyielding. Though Melaugo was in her early twenties, she felt as stiff and weary as a woman thrice her age. At noon, she came upon an enormous old yew, marked with the same runes she had seen when she first arrived in this region. This must be the Haytha Tree. She sat beside the stream to eat the pine nuts she had gathered. During her time in Perunta, she had loved to dance in alehouses and climb the cliffs for sport. Now less than a mile on foot was exhausting. She splashed her face, filled her waterskin, then checked her compass and turned east. After a hundred steps, she noticed a trail of animal bones and followed it away from the stream. Before long, she reached the mouth of a cave. She leaned inside, only to grimace and withdraw. It was filthy, redolent of brimstone, and she could see the telltale yellowing on the walls. The evidence of a sleeper. Buy the Book Among the Burning Flowers Samantha Shannon Buy Book Among the Burning Flowers Samantha Shannon Buy this book from: AmazonBarnes and NobleiBooksIndieBoundTarget Melaugo took a deep breath. It had been more than three months since she had last done this. She knelt to unpack her supplies. A tunic went over her mail, made of waxed leather to keep out blood and spittle. The way the Draconic plague spread was a mystery—some were more likely to catch it than others—but all of the monsters were thought to carry it, and Melaugo took no chances. Best to treat it like the pestilence and cover up. A hood came next, then gauntlets and steel greaves, a thick cloth for her mouth and nose, and a pair of rivet spectacles. All bought in Aperio, when she was flush with coin. Other than the bridge of her nose and a sliver of her brow, not an inch of her skin was on show. Now she prepared her weapons: crossbow, rapier, billhook, splitting maul. Even the most unsavoury cullers never used rifles; it was perilous enough to risk an open flame inside a lair, let alone gunpowder, even though it wounded sleepers. No, Melaugo could make do without powder, even if it took more sweat. She used the rusty hook on her belt to span her crossbow. Next, she took out her firesteel, lit the candle in her mining lantern, and latched it shut. It might not be enough. Each time she entered a lair, there was a chance the sulphurous air would ignite, or that her light would go out altogether, stranding her in the dark with a monster. Few cullers lasted beyond their first or second kill. She was already on borrowed time. Her palms sweated as she grasped her shield and lantern. She had lost her bear spear—her best weapon—during her last cull; her chances were even lower than usual. Still, she did not ask the Saint for protection. She took his name in vain now and then, but had not prayed since her parents had been taken from her. A few spiders darted away from her light. Her throat burned as she inched along the first passage, stopping to listen every so often. She edged around a corner, avoiding bones and smears of blood. It was thought that wyverns fed on lava, but their offspring relished flesh. As Melaugo crawled on, waiting for her lantern to blow up in her face, she thought back to the bestiaries she had read, considering her opponent. The lindworm was an engorged serpent. It could suffocate her with its coils, but at least it didn’t spit a venom that melted flesh and bone, like the basilisk. Around her lantern, all was black. It was best to lure sleepers outside for the fight, but this cave was too deep and narrow for that. At the end of another tunnel, she negotiated a small opening and slid into a crouch on the other side. Thanks to the cloth she had tied to her soles, her landing was almost silent. She held up her lantern and waited for her eyes to adjust. This cavern was larger, the air dry and hot. And there was the lindworm, surrounded by chewed bones. Once it must have been an adder or a slowworm or some other legless animal, minding its own business, only for a wyvern to transfigure it. Now it was at least twenty feet long and encased in Draconic armour, as coarse and tough as volcanic rock. It was also, mercifully, asleep. Melaugo hung up her lantern. If the lindworm destroyed her only light source, she would die. Her heart was beating harder than she liked. As she put her shield down, she remembered her first kill. A foul cave in Aperio, so tight that it had trapped her twice. The chilling sight of the culebreya—a winged serpent, curled in a hollow. The stony rasping of its breath. And the realisation, terrible in its magnitude, that all the stories of the past were true. That monsters did lurk in the dark. She locked a bolt into her crossbow. According to rumour, meteoric iron was best for killing Draconic things, but nobody knew where to find it. This bolt, tipped with common steel, would only work if she hit a weak point. In absolute silence, she took aim, blinking hard as her sight blurred again. Even here, staring at a creature that might eat her alive, her own hunger felt more urgent. She waited for the beast to move, to open its accursed eyes. ‘Wake up,’ she ordered. The lindworm remained still. It was coiled in a way that might conceal gaps in its hide. If it was going to keep its eyes shut, she would have to get closer. Assuming its slumber was as deep as it seemed, she could use her bill-hook to pry off a scale, but that was a last resort. She took a few steps forward. The lindworm raised its head. Each of its fangs was as long as her face. ‘Well met, serpent.’ Melaugo bared her own teeth in a nervous grin. ‘Did I wake you?’ A rattle stemmed from its maw, raising the hairs on her nape. ‘No.’ Her smile faded. ‘Saint, you were… waiting. You sensed me, so you set a trap.’ Before the implications could sink in, the lindworm began to uncoil, its hiss echoing around the chamber. Long ago, its eyes would have blazed with the fire of the wyvern that had created it. Now they were like dying embers. More than likely, then, the sire was still asleep. Melaugo stood within striking range. As the lindworm moved towards her, she glimpsed the vulnerability she needed—a missing scale over its heart, where some brave soul had tried to kill it in the Grief. All at once, the lindworm attacked. She let the bolt spring from her crossbow, missing its eye by an inch. Then she ran. The cave was larger than she had anticipated, giving her room to avoid the lindworm. Fortunate, because the bastard thing was clearly in the mood for a chase. It followed her around a limestone column, its breath hot on her back, reeking of blood. She tossed the crossbow, snatched up her shield, and drew her rapier. Her lantern guttered by the entrance, casting bizarre shadows. Even though she was slow and weak, Melaugo let her instincts take over, trusting herself to avoid every strike. She spun with her shield, just in time to block a lunge that might have finished her. Wherever she turned, the lindworm was in close pursuit, its huge body rasping in her wake, threatening to trip and squeeze her. Those coils seemed to be everywhere, all over the ground. With a growl, she dashed after the weak spot. It was only about as wide as her fist, but that was plenty of room for a rapier. When another coil blocked her way, she took a risk and scrambled over it, feeling its inner heat as she rolled off its back. Its hide was not slick, like that of a snake, but rough enough to cut bare skin. Only her gloves and greaves kept her safe. Her body was already protesting. When she had faced other sleepers, there had always been a surge of strength, an icy rush of clarity. This time, it refused to come. The food she had forced down—the dried fish, the berries, the nuts—had not been enough for a fight like this. She stabbed, but the tip of her rapier only scraped along thick armour, making her curse. Her shield was snatched from her grasp. Somehow she slipped away once more, but her primal instincts were failing. If she did not flee now, she would have crawled into her own grave. But she was so tired, and so hungry, the weakness slowing her. Fatally slowing her. Out of nowhere, a tail whipped into her ribs, slamming her against the cavern wall. Her spectacles broke and fell off her face. She hit the ground, still clutching her rapier, head spinning. The creature loomed above her, its eyes illuminating its face. For one dreadful moment, Melaugo wanted to give up and let it drag her away. She wanted to stop fighting and sleep. As she stared into its gullet, she wondered how long she would last in its belly. The thought knocked her apathy loose. Her parents’ faces flashed before her. Liyat appeared like a waking dream, shouting at her to get up, as the lindworm prepared for the kill. That loathsome mouth yawned open, ready to eat Melaugo whole. She waited for it to unhinge its jaw— —and thrust her blade into the roof of its mouth. A deafening screech. A shudder of sinew. Thick dark blood splattered her front and seeped along her sleeve. In one desperate movement, Melaugo wrenched her sword back and dived out of reach. A pair of iron fangs clanged down an inch from where her boots had been. Melaugo smelled victory. More importantly, she smelled food. With the last of her agility, she plunged her rapier into the weak spot. The lindworm thrashed as gouts of its blood spurted out. With a heaving chest, Melaugo took her maul and hacked off its appalling head. Her lantern flickered out. She blindly groped out of the cave. Outside, in the daylight, she took off her left vambrace and shoved up her sleeve to check her arm. No sign of a scratch or graze. With a laugh, she dropped to her knees, and then vomited. Excerpted from Among the Burning Flowers. Used with the permission of the publisher, Bloomsbury. Copyright © 2025 by Samantha Shannon-Jones The post Read an Excerpt From <i>Among the Burning Flowers</i> by Samantha Shannon appeared first on Reactor.