WARNING! INEVITABLE SPOILERS BELOW!

Following a night fight with shadowy demons in Civim, Spiraling Beyond Oblivion picks up right where Winding Ever Higher left off (though one could argue—and I will be arguing—that, narratively speaking, Spiraling is more a continuation of the first novella Twisting Every Way than it is to its second novella predecessor).

Due to the danger they pose to the Tritium city of mages, Emya, Felix, and Artyem depart via teleportation magic to the faraway kingdom Asulashio. There, the student mages will be safe from any more attacks, and Felix can research the course of the binding object he and Emya have come to call the Companion. Sure enough, they find what they were looking for, an ancient reference to the likely source of the duo’s magic-siphoning curse. And, of course, it lies behind the borders of the Twisted Realm—a kind of magic-irradiated, overgrown-wasteland.

Yes, that’s right! We’re finally venturing into the Twisted Realm for which the series is named! It takes a while to finally get there, almost halfway through the novella. The meantime is mostly spent in Asulashiro and in the presence of its prince, Othilrin. Through Emya’s inexperienced eyes, the reader is taught more about the history, culture, environment, and politics of this world. In this sense, the first chunk of Spiraling builds upon the world-building thick in Winding Ever Higher, and there is plenty of interiority exploring Emya’s feelings as well.

However, it is not until the party reaches the keepers—demon hunters who slay demons and guard the border of the Twisted Realm—that the plot truly gets moving. As mentioned earlier, it feels very much like a continuation of the plot of novella one, Twisting Every Way.

Between books one and three, the Companion played a small role, if any. In fact, without the attack at the very end of Winding, there would be no real sense of urgency to do anything about Emya’s and Felix’s predicament. Ostensibly, it is potentially harmful over the long term, though this hasn’t yet had time to manifest. The real threats presented in Winding are Emya’s own trust issues and her fellow students, and the conflict centers around her overcoming those hang-ups she acquired over a life of neglect and abuse. Why bring this up in a review about Spiraling? Let’s get into that.

Recall this common criticism across the series so far—it reads like one story broken into pieces as opposed to self-contained yet interconnected novellas. This remains true in book three, and the effect is such that book two seems tangential in retrospect, as if Winding were leading in an entirely different direction than Twisting before it. Book two was a magic-school character drama in the vein of the Harry Potter series (not a criticism; I enjoyed those books); whereas book one was a coming of age adventure: a young woman is faced with the unfairness of life and the loss of the protection of her parents. She becomes oppressed under the heel of tyrannical and savage masculinity in the form of the barbarian Kings but then escapes by entangling herself with the archetype of virtuous masculinity—Felix, the man down on his luck but with the potential for greatness.

Spiraling continues this development with Emya and Felix’s adventure into the Twisted Realm. It is archetypally the wilderness, the great unknown in which Emya must find herself as an individual—i.e. split off from the Companion so that she can become her individuated self as opposed to Felix’s appendage. While much time is spent in Winding resolving Emya’s internal conflicts, that same time could have been spent in Asulashiro and even the Twisted Realm itself to no consequence to the plot. In fact, all of the major characters could have been moved to Asulashiro as members of the royal court or else local scholars. Evris would have fit right in and served the same function, and Artyem’s backstory places him neatly in Asulashiro as well. There is no reason the shadow attack could not have happened there either, especially because it is so close to the Twisted Realm border.

Furthermore, the Kings resurface as antagonists in Spiraling, which makes book three feel very much connected to the events of book one. Questions involving their origins and motivations are answered; and the smarter brother, Azo, gets a final showdown battle with the party. It is the completion of a plot arc left hanging for a novella’s worth of content, and I can’t help but feeling it shouldn’t have been left ice cold for that long.

That being said, it was satisfying to see the Kings brought back into the story, since it was them who captured Felix and Emya, binding them together and to the Companion in the first place. They were interesting villains, and the only shame is that we don’t get to read more about them aside from Azo’s expository info dump.

But what about the Twisted Realm itself?

As the major set piece, it certainly delivers on danger and unpredictability. In fact, it is so incredibly brutal at first, I started to doubt the believability of the party surviving it. Monster attacks seemed constant, rest short, and resources ever more quickly consumed the deeper they ventured into wild landscapes: swamps turning to fields to forests and to deserts—and all while Emya was somewhat helpless. It was a refreshing change of pace from the slower, more character driven drama which characterized the story before. Though it did, admittedly, strain after a while. Chapter after chapter of action can only sustain tension for so long before the sense of danger wears off. Luckily, the short-form of the story prevents the escalation from dragging too long before the climactic moment—the break of the bond between Emya and Felix and the Companion.

About the climax, while it was great to feel like the story really resolved by the end of this book, the event itself felt a bit underwhelming. Artyem, who swore off using his magic ever again after a tragic accident, uses the Companion in order to help Felix free himself from its grip. It is clearly supposed to show the depth of their friendship as they both take on the use of risky magical objects, but the scene feels rushed and without deeply embedded stakes. This is probably due to the nature of book two being such a deviation from the central plot. It does not feel as though a sufficient amount of time and character-work has gone into Artyem’s and Felix’s relationship (nor Felix’s and Emya’s for that matter). That is not to say the some isn’t present. A fair amount indeed is, but the break in plot breaks the feeling of continuity, so that by the time we as readers arrive here at this big moment, it feels disproportionately small and hurried. We don’t feel as close to the characters as we ought to feel.

But as mentioned, despite my criticisms, Spiraling Beyond Oblivion has and is a superior conclusion than and to the prior two novellas. There is a sense of closure and character progression for Emya, Felix, and Artyem all. Their growth as people is intertwined with their growth in the ways of wielding and dealing with magic. And there is even a set up for yet another book—a new, bigger antagonist awaits! The Being of All Magic has escaped into the dreams of Evris! Is she safe? I’m curious to find out.

If you’re curious as well, click the book cover above to get your copy of Amy Sutphin’s Spiraling Beyond Oblivion.