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Fantasy with Friends: Series or Standalone?

Briana and Krysta at Pages Unbound are hosting a fantasy discussion meme this year called Fantasy with Friends. Since fantasy is my favorite genre, I thought it would be fun to take part. This week, their question is:

Do you currently prefer standalone fantasies or series? Is there a certain number of books that seems like “too much,” whether that means the series feels intimidating to start or just that the author might need to move on to something else? Is there a point at which you worry that a series is just a “cash grab?”

Once, mostly when I was in high school, I almost always only picked books based on how many books were in the series. The longer the series, the better, in my opinion. It made hunting down my next read easier, and faster. I had a somewhat odd method of finding what I wanted to read next, which took a lot of time.

In a way, I still feel like that. I love getting to spend as much time as possible with some favorite characters in an amazing world. I would gladly take more books with them. I always believe there are more adventures out there, and I always wonder what the aftermath of the big clash is like and how the heroes deal with life afterwards. I feel like the epic high fantasies could turn into delightful cozies as we follow the heroes from the beginning to the big battle and then to what happens next when life settles down.

At the same time, sometimes the story is just over and I don’t feel like I need or want to know what comes next. At that point, it definitely feels like it’s “too much” in that the author should probably move on. Sometimes it feels like some authors just get stuck and they run out of interesting stories to tell. I don’t think I ever feel intimidated by long series; I feel like I never have enough time. Between my never ending work as a mom and my pursuit of publication, I just don’t have as much time as I’d like to spare for everything I want to read. So, if it’s a really long series, it goes on a mental list that I quietly promise I’ll get to one day when I’m old and my kids are, hopefully, self-sufficient. Or at least don’t need me to make food for them every few hours.

During this season of my life, I’ll take either a series or a standalone. I just want a whole story, however many books it takes. Sometimes I feel like a series really needs more than 3 books. Other times, one probably would have been good enough.

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Bright Dead Things (Bitter Legacies 1) by Hailey Turner | Book Review

If the forest stares back at you, you’re already prey.

Bran Gallagher grew up with three rules passed down through his coven: beware forest paths that lead to dangerous mounds, always keep iron close, and never speak of magic.

Cillian Dunne grew up with his mother’s love, his father’s absence, and secret warnings to never trust a witch.

In Pelham’s forest, where bright lights haunt the trees and hunt the lost, there are traditions kept for survival and others out of habit, none of which should be broken.

Bran and Cillian unknowingly broke tradition and ruined each other in the aftermath of a kiss years ago. Reunited in the wake of a family tragedy, they cross paths with something old, something terrifying—something that wants them dead. When Bran’s younger sister is stolen away by a nightmare into the Otherworld, they can only follow and try to keep each other alive in a strange and haunting land.

Trapped in a dangerous Fae Court, Bran learns being a witch comes with a death sentence. To save him, Cillian must fight against those who seek power from a past he has no memory of, and the only person he can trust is the witch who broke his heart.

But it might be too late.

For the Fae have never been kind, and they have always hungered, and this time, what they hunger for is revenge.

How was it?

One of the weird things about me is that when I pick up one of my trusted authors’ books, I sometimes don’t want to know anything about it before diving in. That’s been my approach with Hailey Turner after Soulbound. At most, tell me there are witches, Fae, and a new fantasy world to explore, and I’m in.

Unfortunately, I accidentally read the blurb before starting Bright Dead Things. I say unfortunately because the blurb reveals an event that doesn’t happen immediately enough, and for the entire first quarter of the book, I found myself waiting for that moment instead of fully experiencing the story as it unfolded. It’s not the book’s fault, but it definitely changed my reading experience a little.

I still got pulled into the story. I sat down to read a few chapters and suddenly found myself around 20% into the book without really noticing, which is a good sign since I’m a slow reader.

The biggest strength of Bright Dead Things is its atmosphere. The forest is eerie, the Otherworld feels dangerous, and there’s this constant sense that something is lurking in the edges, just beyond sight. Turner is very good at worldbuilding and creating an atmosphere; here, it’s a creeping feeling that something is wrong long before the characters fully realize it themselves.

This book is very fantasy-forward; the romance between Bran and Cillian is almost an afterthought. Yes, there’s some longing, but it’s a genuine slow burn. I’m happy with that here because the story and world surrounding it are more interesting to me than a second-chance romance. The world, the mysteries, and the hints of larger dangers kept me engaged while the relationship developed at its own pace.

The one thing I wasn’t entirely sold on was the magic system. It feels a bit loose compared to fantasy worlds with clearly defined magical rules. The casting itself, mostly Bran’s and his witchmarks, often sounded complicated and time-consuming. I feel like Bran could get shot before witchmarking himself a shield, and maybe that’s the point, he’s not supposed to duck and hide, so he could raise a shield, lol.

There’s a slow build, with clues and unsettling details scattered throughout the first half, before everything starts accelerating. The first quarter of the novel is largely spent setting up the events described in the blurb, which is why I’m annoyed I read it! It’s really around the halfway point that the pace picks up significantly, bringing more action, revelations, and a clearer picture of the larger threat lurking behind everything.

I enjoy that gradual crescendo because I’ve come to trust Turner. I know she’s building toward something worthwhile. But I worry about how a brand-new reader would feel about it. If you’re unfamiliar with her talent, the slower first half might require a bit more patience, but if you(re familiar, enjoy the ride.

I am invested in seeing where this series goes next, despite not being quite as attached to Bran and Cillian as I usually am after the first book of a Hailey Turner series. I like them. They’re good characters, I care about what happens to them. I’d be annoyed if they get hurt or killed, but it wouldn’t ruin my day at this point. I haven’t formed a deeper emotional attachment yet.

However, the mysteries introduced here, the larger mythology taking shape, and the unanswered questions left hanging have me eager to return to this world.

Overall, Bright Dead Things is a strong opening to a new fantasy series. It’s atmospheric, creepy, full of intriguing folklore, and steadily builds toward something much bigger. If you’re willing to embrace a slower start and enjoy stories where the mysteries unfold piece by piece, there’s a lot here to enjoy.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

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In 19th-century Dublin, a chance encounter between a woman society has rejected and a doctor searching for purpose begins a story of love, loyalty, and choices that will shape their lives.

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Beware the Ills: Part 46

The invaders from the south end of the valley, where the city ends before the open space, are past the civilians rushing towards a melee by the mountain. They’ll form themselves into a streak and cut down the Ills with their arrows and artificial fire. Smart, very smart. There are so many Ills by the mountain, and so many invaders in the valley you can barely see the earth beneath their feet. The civilians, who were originally pinned in that valley, rush back inside the city in massive droves. The ground quakes to the thousands of feet running, charging, and sprinting.

I’m ashamed of their panic.

The invaders are about to fire into the Ills. All the encroachers have been killed beneath the mountains. They were swarmed by the Ill’s writhing green forms and didn’t have a chance. I don’t really remember what I said to their prince, or king, whatever. It must have been something inspiring? I remember Haukter appearing, and our little skirmish, and then running to the river. I remember smashing Haukter’s chest with my hilt.

The crossbows suddenly rattle like a bunch of hollow snakes. They jolt me back to reality. The waves of armored Ills are mowed down by the long arrows. The crossbows crackle in unison, their commanders must have them trained to fire in a timed fashion.

They weren’t this coordinated when they fought me.

The Ills look ready for war. They’re dressed less like articulate beasts. They’re not covered in their typical tattered equipment, but plated and smooth armor, like men. Their weapons aren’t rusted and worn. Their steel looks silver, sharp, and sterile. It’s unfortunate, in their new classy look, that they’re dying at an alarming rate.

The angle of the valley allows the arrows full velocity as they strike. The black-red shields of the Ills can’t hold back their fury. Still, thousands of Ills run forward from the mountains. More arrows though, and open spots start to form in their ranks.

Piles of corpses form.

The invader’s arrows are stopping the Ills from advancing further into the valley. The cold helps the invaders, not a single breath of wind throws their arrows off their mark. I will have to intervene soon, but too much distance separates the Ills from their formations. I couldn’t even survive this swarm of troops. There has to be some sort of break to the battle.

The walking machines lined up between the firing troops. The same formation they used at the river, when Blue and I tore them apart. It’s a bloody memory. The machines shutter and drift to the ground, and howl with the insidious buzzing sound. The metallic thrumming begins in their curved chests. I can already imagine those luminous bubbles growing in their centers like sculptured fire.

The Ills will be completely wiped out.

For some inexplicable reason, I don’t want them to be slaughtered. It’s strange having this concern for them.

The machines fire a buzzing barrage of emerald orbs. They make a high-pitched cackling sound after they release their condensed blaze. The spheres fly straight into the Ill’s massed ranks. Rocks exploded beneath the sizzling light, sending debris into the Ills and leaving their shapes bloody and obscene. Their black blood clouds the snow. The arrows continue to fly at them. Some of the Ills have closely formed their shields together to repel them. The encroachers fire heavily on these clumps, breaking shields and splitting green skin. Ills have lined up behind them, despite the deluge of points, and begun firing arrows back at them with their crude bows.

A poorly shot arrow flies by my head wistfully. They need to adjust their range.

Still, I appreciate their strategy.

The arrows are falling more consistently now. A few of the invaders have fallen with an arrow to the throat or face. The leverage from the high angle of their bows allows the points to pierce their armor. Ills charge out as the crossbows start to pause and quiet in the ranks. The machines stay silent and steaming in the cold. The snow falls silently and deliberately.

It’s good killing weather.

I see the woman towards the center of the formation. She survived what occurred on the lake with Blue. I’m very impressed. I’m sure Haukter’s near the city now. He might be inside the walls in fact. I survived his poison. I shouldn’t underestimate him.

It would be foolish.

A screeching sound carves upward from inside the invader’s formation, as a burst of jade light pillars into the sky in a disheveled line. The machines are priming again. They fire immediately at the Ill’s coming swarms. Everything along the valley explodes in rock and blue fire. No more watching and planning my next move. No more waiting. The city behind me has gone quiet as the Ills and outlanders have killed one another. I must drive the invaders away from the city, even if I can’t kill them all. After they’re gone, I will find Haukter and kill him. I breathe hard and unsheathe my sword and grip its long handle. Something far away inside of me, tells me not to kill.

I fall.

I’m on the invaders before they can turn around, before they can even breathe, before they can hear my cutting sword.

I cut twelve men down on the backside of their formation. They scream and cry beneath my sword swings. I don’t move as fast running along their edges as I could. I want their backside flank to turn to me, to see what I’ve just accomplished. They bite. Men fire at me, but I outrun the majority of their arrows and knock the stragglers away with my sword.

Someone yells, it’s her, she’s transforming within the maelstrom. A few arrows dart towards me from inside the city. Sharp shooters no doubt, I knock them away quickly with my sword. I run towards a machine that hasn’t turned around to face me. The sharp shooters follow, peppering the back of the contraption and lancing the man inside. I pull on the machine and tip it over. As we topple, I stab the handle of my sword where the dials and buttons sit glowing. The gears hum with surprise, and the heart begins to glow. Emerald explosions shatter the formation throwing rock and blood everywhere, leaving a red smear across the ground.

They’ve finally turned to me. All their hundreds of eyes are on me.

The Ills are coming. The empty space between the two armies dwindles beneath the glowing sun. A man runs out from the formation. He dives and swings his broad sword at me. I catch the blade with the gauntlet on my left hand and slit his throat. They circle around me. The man was a decoy.     

Very clever indeed.

I sprint directly into the thick lines of troops. I’m running to the edge where the Ills will meet them shortly. Something moves on my left. It’s too fast to be one of the pawns.

I know it’s her.

I sprint faster to the front. I’m slashing left and right, as men rise and fall against my sword. I hear her scream following me. The front line cannot fail, or else the Ills will overrun them, and they’re outnumbered despite the earlier slaughter with arrows and blasts. I duck beneath a swinging sword and grab one of the men’s crossbows. I smash his face open and watch his blue eyes go different directions.

It distracts me slightly, I sprint again.

I fire the crossbow. A dead man falls on me. I pick him up at his ankles and throw him over my shoulder. I hold him in front of me as I dash. His body shutters a wild amount and becomes intensely heavy with arrows. 

The ground starts to tremble below the metal tempest. The Ills have collided with the invaders, and it’s an outright storm of close combat. More screams, smashes, and the sound of metal grinding on uncooperative skin. I’ve seen my fair share of whirlwind clashing, but never one with this colliding force. I cannot help but feel responsible for the massive battle. I’m unhappy with all these colliding monsters on the footsteps of the Diamond Town.

I’m very unhappy.

I sprint to the south side of the tempest, where the Ills are fewer in number. I have no urge to kill them, but I don’t want to instigate one with my presence and break this unspoken peace. The invaders are completely focused on the Ills. The Ills have the advantage in close combat. They have superior physical strength and numbers. The clacking of swords and shields thunders remarkably. The invaders move into brown armored clusters and lock their shields together. It’s not useful though, the Ills spill over them like a green tide, and crush the men to death underneath.

I can hear her blaring over the bloody din. She’s on the northern edge of the formation, killing Ills left and right with her ridiculous axe. Her howls are high, gurgled, and ear piercing. The blue light from her skin and forced strength glow through the thrashing crowd. She breaks free and loops out of the melee. She’s looking for someone inside the battle. It’s not me either. I’m not hard to spot. She’s going after the prince, the king, and the key to peace.

How does she know?

I’ll be releasing my novel Beware the Ills in segments every Friday. You can find out more about the book right here, or check out Amazon’s info. I love this book. Happy to simply share it. 

Battle in the city. It is as epic as you thought it might be. Still not that most brutal fight scene to this point. The confrontation with Haukter is looming. Thank you for reading my work.

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https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/06/05/beware-the-ills-part-47/

Everything was normal.

The city.
The balcony.
The night.

👉 And somehow… that was the most unsettling part.

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He waited for a reaction.

A sign.

Anything.

He got nothing.

👉 Because whatever he saw…
Gribbles didn’t.

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In 19th-century Dublin, a disillusioned doctor and a woman living on the margins of society cross paths in a city shaped by hardship and tradition.

The Fitzgeralds of Dublin series is a sweeping Irish family saga exploring loyalty, resilience, and choices that echo across generations.

Begin with A Scarlet Woman - free to read in Kindle Unlimited - http://mybook.to/ascarletwoman

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A sweeping saga of family, loyalty, and secrets that shape generations.

Set against the rich backdrop of 19th-century Ireland, The Fitzgeralds of Dublin series explores love, sacrifice, and the ties that bind.

📚 Books 1–9 available in box sets
📖 Free with Kindle Unlimited

Discover the series → http://mybook.to/FitzgeraldsBoxSets

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