There is a remarkable concept at the center of The Summer Dragon, the debut novel by celebrated fantasy artist Todd Lockwood. While on fundamental story terms, the conflict isn’t much different from many other fantasy novels (i.e. a dark force is mounting a seemingly unstoppable world conquest, opposed only by ill-prepared but courageous good), Lockwood puts an amazing twist on the idea: the darkness, the light, the gods themselves, are merely representations of what people value.

There’s a repeated quote from a suppressed scripture in the story that sums up this concept: “The things we hold in reverence reflect our own nature. Warlike people worship jealous gods and build their altars of steel. Those who love wealth build their altars of gold. Content people honor loving gods and build their altars of love.” The idea that the forces and gods that control and guide the universe are birthed from the beliefs of people is a powerful one—a brain-twisting ouroboros that becomes absolutely brilliant when you consider the implication that the darkness that threatens everything is therefore also a representation of people’s values. In other words, in Lockwood’s universe, evil that rises, literally, from the bowels of a mountain may well be representative of a change in what humanity itself holds dear.

The slow burn

Lockwood crafts the first novel of the Evertide series with incredible patience and attention to detail. That doesn’t mean the story is slow; The Summer Dragon quite rips along on an exciting trajectory, no sooner introducing a world and its varied inhabitants than kicking off its slow, grinding destruction. This is accomplished through a series of propulsive action sequences, interspersed with contemplative sections that deepen our understanding and emotional connection to the world. What he doesn’t do is rush; he’s willing to linger, to listen in on conversations or describe a typical day in the life of his characters, allowing us to fully inhabit his world. Once the darkness descends, we’re already invested, and the stakes feel real.

Maia

This patient approach allows us to bond with the main character, Maia. She is truly a fantastic creation: the young daughter of the dragon Broodmaster Magha, she lives and breathes among the dragons her family raises for the emperor’s armies. She dreams of having a qit, or baby dragon, of her own to bond with and raise, and she’s haunted by the final words of her dying mother, words Maia believes were tantamount to a curse. She is no paint-by-numbers Chosen One or, even worse, a “strong female character;” she’s a well-shaded depiction of a young woman who is smart and passionate, who has benefited from a strong family but still harbors poisonous seeds of self-doubt. By the time she is called on to act heroically, we believe in her courage—and her fear—because we’ve come to know her.

The dragons

Lockwood’s dragons provide a fresh, interesting take on the genre’s most iconic creatures. In Maia’s world, dragons are wild animals, but not unintelligent. They have something of a language of their own and can learn to communicate with humans to a limited extent. They are emotional, powerful beasts who form ferociously strong bonds—the connection between a human and a qit, augmented by magical markings applied to both, is for life, and a profound experience for both. They don’t breathe fire, but are revered for their worth in aerial combat in the empire’s war against the twisted, aggressive Harodhi. Dragons are the core of the culture, and as such, the center of a religion that reveres them as the world-creator, with the Summer Dragon being one presentation of their god, the dragon Korruzon. Maia’s acquisition of a wild baby dragon centers the action and emotion of the novel, particularly in an extended sequence that reveals the very tip of the evil threatening to enter the world, Maia’s capabilities as a person and a warrior, and the true nature of dragons themselves.

The universe

Lockwood is patient with the other aspects of his world-building, too. The known history only goes back so far; a ruined city near the Aerie where Maia lives is evidence of the civilization that came before, but few know much about it—at least until a few key revelations near the end of the book. The religion of Korruzon appears, at first, to be benevolent and settled, but Lockwood slowly explores heresies and corruptions that parallel Maia’s own growing knowledge. The empire, at first a remote reference, slowly comes to life as soldiers and elite warriors of the church arrive at the Aerie to defend the baby dragons that are so valuable to the war effort, and the men and women who form each faction are given distinct personalities that not only make them great characters, but allow them to teach us about an incredibly detailed fictional universe.

The hero

In the end, this is Maia’s story, and she is an incredible hero—resourceful but not omnipotent, courageous but not immune to fear, determined but spiced with the sort of doubts and self-criticism that we all know. She’s real, and that makes it all the more worrisome as she hurtles herself into the center of cataclysmic events.

Lockwood has written a fantasy novel that is both classical and modern, one that pulses with a sense of history and emotion, centered on that central idea that the gods we worship and the demons we fight are based on what we, as people, revere. The definition of what’s a god and what’s a demon can shift depending on our collective beliefs—and depending on your view of human nature, that might be a truly frightening prospect.

The Summer Dragon is available now.