To Conquer Death is an epic historical fantasy set in ancient Egypt that asks a genuinely unsettling question: what happens when death itself begins to fail? Author Richard H. Moon brings his evident passion for Egyptian mythology and Bronze Age history to this substantial novel, which explores the cost of trying to control the uncontrollable. For fans of Guy Gavriel Kay’s The Lions of Al-Rassan or Ursula K. Le Guin’s The Tombs of Atuan, this is a meticulously researched and thoughtfully crafted addition to the mythic fantasy genre.
The story opens with parallel childhood traumas that set the tone for everything that follows. In the river kingdom of Kemet (ancient Egypt), two young brothers, Koshei and Tyfon, attend their father’s funeral. In their world, death is orderly and controlled through ritual and divine authority. Far to the north, a young girl named Doryah witnesses something far more horrifying: her mother’s corpse sits up and smiles at her before the funeral pyre can be lit. As tensions escalate twenty years later when a massive refugee horde clashes with Kemet’s army, these three lives converge. What follows is a story that’s epic historical fiction with a fantasy and horror twist.
What I found particularly impressive about this novel is how authentic and well-researched it feels. Moon’s knowledge of Egyptian culture shines through on every page, from the civil calendar divided into seasons based on the Nile’s flood cycle (Akhet, Peret, Shemu) to the complex theology surrounding the soul’s components (khet, ba, ren, sekhem, sah). Words like khopesh for the sickle-sword and mehi for measurement units add wonderful realism and show attention to detail. These small touches demonstrate the care invested in making this world feel genuinely rooted in ancient civilisation rather than a surface-level fantasy reimagining. They also respect the reader’s intelligence, though they do make the book feel heavy going at times.
The prose is clean and competent, flowing smoothly while the plot is relatively simple to follow. Moon’s writing is functional in the best sense: clear, purposeful, and never calling attention to itself when it doesn’t need to. The professional polish is evident throughout. I didn’t spot editing issues, and the structure holds together well across a complex multi-POV narrative. There are moments where additional description might have enhanced certain scenes, particularly in some of the more complex sequences, but overall the restraint serves the story well, with occasional lines of beauty popping up throughout, “You are the breath upon my lips, you are the light upon my eyes.”
The pacing is deliberate and character-driven, largely favouring internal conflict and moral complexity over constant action, but with plenty of action scenes too. The novel jumps between three main POVs, Koshei’s analytical perspective; Tyfon’s more aggressive voice; and Doryah’s dry, pragmatic worldview. This structure keeps the story fresh while showing how three incomplete perspectives struggle to grasp the same crisis. Doryah is my favorite character, and probably the most relatable, “here was one simple thought that rose to the top of her mind and screamed its own perfect sensibleness into the very core of her being: It was, Fuck This.”
One of the novel’s most unique aspects is how it tackles death, which as the title suggests is the novel’s biggest theme. The exploration of how ancient Egyptians viewed death, with their elaborate preservation rituals, complex soul theology, and belief in eternal order, is really interesting to read. Moon presents death as something which ancient civilisations have tried to wall off entirely. The consequences of this hubris form the novel’s central horror and its most compelling thematic threat.
The character work throughout is strong, particularly in the evolving relationship between the two brothers. Koshei and Tyfon share the same childhood trauma, losing their father in war, but learn opposite lessons from it. Doryah serves as the essential outsider perspective, the survivor who already knows the truth others are just discovering. Watching their bond develop and fracture is one of the book’s more memorable elements, leading to some enjoyable and dramatic scenes, “I understand, Koshei. I’ve always known that however much I might fail myself, you would never fail me.”
To sum up, To Conquer Death is a beautifully written love letter to Egyptian mythology that deserves way more attention. The research is impeccable, the prose is elegant and purposeful, and most importantly the story is just gripping and page-turning throughout. The heavy use of Egyptian terms and dense worldbuilding won’t be for everyone, but for readers willing to invest the effort, this is a highly rewarding and educational reading experience that stays with you. The book’s last few chapters and climax in particular are woth reading it alone.
Final verdict: A lovingly put together work of historical fantasy that honours its ancient sources while tackling some thought-provoking themes and topics. A compelling, original novel that deserves a place on any mythology lover’s shelf, especially for fans of Gene Wolfe, Guy Gavriel Kay and Ursula K. Le Guin.
You can get your copy of To Conquer Death here!
