Perhaps the most beautiful and brutal thing a truly good book can do is convince you, if only for a few hundred pages, that you belong inside it. That you're not just an observer skimming the surface, but a part of its pulse and rhythm, woven into its world as surely as its characters. And then, just as suddenly, it ends. The illusion vanishes like a candle blown out, and you're left stranded in the quiet, heart aching, head echoing with its absence. That’s exactly how this book made me feel.

The Knight and the Moth by Rachel Gillig is a masterclass in gothic fantasy and she continues to prove that no one does it quite like she does. It’s haunting, lyrical, and strikingly original. While it diverges in tone and scope from Gillig’s Shepherd King duology, her signature prose still sings through every sentence: lush, immersive, and emotionally charged. From the very first page, the atmosphere is thick with fog and myth, pulling you into a beautifully strange world where object-bound magic, eerie diviners, and prophetic dreams shape both fate and identity. It so easily gives you that magical feeling of losing yourself in a book, where reality fades away, and for a little while, you exist somewhere else entirely. The magic system is fascinating and fresh, and Gillig’s world-building excels in feeling wholly unique and not just another carbon copy of court politics and tired tropes, but something that hums with mystery and sacredness. None of it felt like something I’ve read before.

The pacing is near-perfect in my opinion, balancing dark lore, political intrigue, and emotional depth without ever losing momentum. Though a few lingering questions remain, they feel deliberate, setting up the second half of the duology with just the right amount of intrigue. The characters are vivid and layered, especially our heroine Sybil, whose journey through duty, rebellion, and self-discovery is equal parts heartbreaking and empowering. And then there’s the gargoyle. The gruff, the hilarious, the loyal to a fault, and the completely unforgettable gargoyle. What begins as comic relief becomes something far deeper, and by the end, he’s not just a side character, he’s an emotional core of the story.

Gillig’s work literally feels like it casts a spell on me. The Knight and the Moth made me laugh and ache with longing in that rare way only the best fantasy books can. It’s eerie and aching, whimsical and weighty. It’s a story about gods and omens, dreams, girlhood, and the cost of becoming.

Completely blew me away, Kylie Lee Baker has officially solidified herself as an autobuy author for me with this one. It’s one of those books where you know there’s a million pieces moving under the surface, but you don’t fully see the shape of it until the very end and then it all comes together. The dual timelines (following Lee in the present and Sen in the past) are woven together so seamlessly, and the way their stories echo each other across time is honestly kind of breathtaking. I loved that every detail mattered, even when I didn't realize it yet.

The atmosphere was my favourite aspect. It's so dark, claustrophobic, and deeply unsettling which seems to be Baker's forte when thinking about Bat Eater in comparison. She does descriptive prose and dread so incredibly well. The horror does an incredible job with what’s lurking in the shadows, but also has a focus on grief, history, and the weight of generational trauma. The house itself feels alive, shifting and watching, and the blend of Japanese folklore with this eerie, almost dreamlike storytelling makes everything feel so surreal at the same time. And the characters, especially Lee and Sen, are so painfully human that I couldn't help but get attached. I felt so much pain for them. Their connection, even without romance, carries so much emotionality behind it.

This is horror with a heartbeat. This is the genre Baker absolutely thrives in. It’s so beautifully written, haunting, and genuinely affecting. I needed answers from the very first chapter, and while I was constantly theorizing, it somehow it still managed to surprise me. The author’s note is 100% worth reading after, as well! Just so, so extraordinary.

*Many thanks to Harlequin Trade Publishing | Hanover Square Press for the eARC in exchange for an honest review.

It’s hard to talk about When the Wolf Comes Home without just yelling “READ IT” and shoving it into people’s hands. It’s that good. And not just “oh wow this is a fun, spooky read” good, it’s emotionally bruising, deeply unsettling, unexpectedly moving, and somehow also a love letter to old-school horror paperbacks and 80s thrillers.

This is one of those stories where the less you know going in, the better. What starts as a tense, mysterious moment, our main character Jess coming home from a brutal shift to find a little boy hiding in her bushes, quickly spirals into something far more dangerous, strange, and heartbreaking than you can imagine. From there, it becomes a breakneck, emotionally loaded, horror-laced chase novel with layers upon layers beneath the surface. Cassidy takes familiar tropes like the runaway kid, the dangerous dad, and the woman on the run then flips them all inside out in the most unexpected ways.

There’s a ton of horror here, sure (some of it stomach-dropping), but what really did it for me was the emotional weight. This isn’t just a story meant to scare you (though I think it will do that) it’s also about fear itself, how it evolves as we age, what we carry from childhood, and how we cope with what we’ve survived. Jess is such a layered protagonist. She's vulnerable but funny, fierce, deeply human and watching her unravel and push forward at the same time is mesmerizing. And the kid at the centre of the story? Somehow terrifying and heartbreaking all at once. I truly didn’t know whether I wanted to hug him or run away screaming.

Cassidy’s writing is on another level. The pacing is relentless in the best way. You’re constantly tense, constantly waiting for the next beat to drop, but it never sacrifices character or emotional payoff for cheap scares. He manages to pull off huge genre swings without it ever feeling chaotic. The ending completely gutted me in the way where you sit there in stunned silence, like your soul just got cracked open a little. I don’t say that lightly. It was the kind of reading experience that sticks with you, burrows in deep, and leaves you thinking long after you’ve finished.

Cassidy has already proven himself with Mary and Nestlings, but When the Wolf Comes Home is something else entirely. It’s brutal, bizarre, raw, and cathartic. It’s horror with a soul. Cassidy is abdsolutly cementing himself as a must-read horror author. This is perfect for those who are a fan of horror that dares to be tender, weird, and devastating all at once.

Also, just as a quick note, don’t skip the afterword. Cassidy always writes incredible author notes, and this one gives you such an incredible glimpse into the personal history and emotional depth behind the story. It adds so much meaning to what you’ve just read. If you're listening to the audiobook, Cassidy himself pops in for the afterword (which made it feel even more personal).