Review: Seven Days of Mercy for the Apostatic Priest
Seven Days of Mercy for the Apostatic Priest by Z. Bennett Lorimer
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Seven Days of Mercy for the Apostatic Priest by Z. Bennett Lorimer caught my attention straightaway. There are gods here who are supposed to be dead, yet they linger, slipping into the world in strange, unsettling ways. The main character has one task, though it is a daunting one: make sure a god does not return to life. We find ourselves in a desert, among crumbling cities and pilgrims with desperate eyes. There is tension at every turn, and often I found myself questioning what divinity even means when the world around it is so clearly unravelling.
The weight of history presses on every scene; it feels as though every step the characters take stirs up old regrets and the sense that something fundamental is about to shift. I kept turning the pages because it felt as if the land itself was urging the story forward, even as everything within it was falling apart. Lorimer manages to capture that mood beautifully, letting the starkness of the desert and the rituals people cling to set the stage, though I did find that the beginning moved slowly before the real conflict took hold.
It is unmistakably epic fantasy, with its echoes of lost empires, long spiritual cycles, and traditions either bending or snapping under strain. Yet it does not settle for grand battles or the usual sweep of ancient magic. It digs into the uncertainty of power, the ways people try to cope with upheaval, and what happens when the old ways no longer serve. I came in expecting a tale of gods and empires, but the focus on authority and the possibility of renewal gave it far more depth.
At first, the characters felt a little like types I had seen elsewhere, but as the story unfolds, they shift and grow in ways that follow naturally from what they have endured. Their changes felt honest, shaped by the world’s relentless pressure. It made me reflect on how real cultures struggle with their legacies, who pays the price, and how power finds new hands.
What truly sets this book apart is its approach to faith. Belief here is uncertain, changing shape with every choice, and there is a strange, almost Lovecraftian current running beneath it all. The dilemmas feel personal, not just grand gestures. I appreciated how the story balanced its action with these quieter, more difficult questions, such as why we cling to rituals that may have lost their meaning. There were times when the prose became thick and I had to work a little harder to reach the heart of things.
The book is always moving between moments of confusion and clarity. The early world-building, dense as it is, does pay off, though it slows things down. I will admit, I felt out of my depth at first, with all the new terms and unfamiliar customs, almost as if I had stumbled into a place where I did not speak the language. There was a point, not too far in, when I wondered if I had the patience for all this backstory. I am glad I stayed with it. Even when the plot threatened to tangle itself, I never lost interest, and it was satisfying when everything finally came together.
By the close, I was left thinking differently about loyalty, about how people are changed by the pressures they face. The book never feels as though it is lecturing; its tone has a kind of structure, almost like a chronicle, but it never forgets to care for its characters and what they endure.
For those of us who enjoy stories built on deep and complicated worlds, with a touch of philosophy, it will be a rewarding read. It is not a quick journey, nor does it focus on a single hero’s exploits, but if you are willing to spend time in its shifting sands, there is much to discover.
Thank you NetGalley and High Trestle Press for sending this book for review consideration. All opinions are my own.