If the nameless woman waking in the volcano, haunted by Karrakaz and piecing together her past through encounters with Darak, Jor, and Vazkor hooked you, you’ll love how Yeine steps into Sky and unravels the truth of her parentage and power. Like in The Birthgrave, identity isn’t just backstory—it’s destiny. Yeine’s negotiations with captive gods (Naha, Sieh) echo the way the protagonist confronts voices and myths that define her, and the final reveals carry the same cathartic jolt as the truth behind the “demon” and the Old Race.

If you were compelled by the protagonist’s ethically tangled rise—being worshiped as a goddess by some tribes, then becoming entangled with rulers like Vazkor—Phèdre nó Delaunay’s path will resonate. In Kushiel’s Dart, Phèdre’s loyalty, desire, and duty collide in ways as deliciously ambiguous as when the heroine of The Birthgrave wields divinity and fear to survive. Both books invite you to root for a woman whose strength is inseparable from her flaws and dangerous allure.

If the reveal that relics of the Old Race and their devices undergird the "magic" in The Birthgrave thrilled you—those forgotten cities and artifacts that turn gods into memories—Severian’s Urth will scratch the same itch. In The Shadow of the Torturer, lenses, artifacts, and lost machines read like enchantments, much as the protagonist’s supposed curses and divinity mask tech and history. The layered mysteries and slow, startling disclosures mirror the book’s final unmasking of Karrakaz.

If you loved roaming from desert tribes to decadent cities with the volcano-born heroine—gathering names, followers, and enemies—Valentine’s trek across Majipoor will feel like coming home. Like the amnesiac wanderings in The Birthgrave, Valentine crosses festivals, caravans, and courts to reclaim a lost self. The panoramic travelogue, shifting companions, and revelations about who he truly is echo the epic scope of Tanith Lee’s world-spanning odyssey.

If Tanith Lee’s rich, sensuous language and mythic aura—those dreamlike temple scenes, the fevered encounters with Darak and Vazkor—enchanted you, McKillip’s lyrical style will, too. Sybel, like The Birthgrave’s goddess-queen, stands apart from ordinary folk, her name becoming a legend that shapes her fate. The prose itself feels spellbound, turning identity and desire into the kind of shimmering tale that made the volcano-born heroine’s journey unforgettable.