Who Is The Main Antagonist In 'The Raven Tower'?

The main antagonist in 'The Raven Tower' is the god known as The Strength and Patience of the Hill. This ancient deity is fascinating because it operates on geological time scales, thinking in centuries rather than days. Unlike typical villains who scheme openly, it works through subtle manipulations of fate and nature. The god's power comes from consuming other deities, making it a terrifying force that reshapes entire civilizations without most people ever realizing it's pulling the strings. What makes it particularly chilling is how it treats humans as temporary tools - we're like ants scurrying across its surface, completely insignificant in its grand plans. The book does an amazing job showing how differently an immortal being views morality compared to mortal characters.

In 'The Raven Tower', the true antagonist isn't just a single entity but an entire system of divine predation. The Strength and Patience of the Hill stands at the center, but what makes it compelling is how it represents the brutal natural order of this world's pantheon. Gods survive by consuming each other, creating this perpetual cycle of violence that traps everyone.

The Hill doesn't even see itself as evil - that's the scariest part. To it, destroying other gods and manipulating humans is just survival, no different than a mountain weathering erosion. Its confrontation with the protagonist Eolo isn't some dramatic showdown, but a slow, inevitable crushing force like tectonic plates shifting. The book brilliantly contrasts this with the human-scale villainy of characters like Usurper, whose petty ambitions seem laughably small next to the god's cosmic hunger.

The layers of antagonism here are what make the story special. You've got the immediate political threats, then the deeper supernatural danger, all working on different timescales. It's rare to find a fantasy novel where the villain's greatest weapon isn't magic or armies, but sheer patience.

What's brilliant about 'The Raven Tower' is how it subverts expectations regarding antagonists. The Strength and Patience of the Hill isn't some mustache-twirling villain - it's a force of nature, both literally and figuratively. This god doesn't scheme or monologue; it simply exists, and its mere existence warps everything around it like gravity bending light.

The real tension comes from understanding its perspective. When you live for millennia, human lives blink by too fast to matter. Its 'evil' acts are just practicality - like pruning a garden. This makes its interactions with mortal characters terrifyingly impersonal. The scene where it casually allows an entire city to starve because the famine served its long-term plans still haunts me.

Yet there's something almost sympathetic about its loneliness. As the last of its kind, the Hill is trapped by its own nature, unable to stop consuming even when it wants to. The book makes you question whether any being that old could possibly share human morality, or if we're just too ephemeral to understand its reasoning.