All Things Undone

I’ll admit, I was skeptical going in. A prophecy that awakens *literal* evolutionary leaps in descendants of the enslaved? Sounds like a recipe for heavy-handed allegory. But Lawson sidesteps didacticism by making the magic feel gloriously personal—these aren’t chosen ones; they’re people who’ve always had the power, just needed the world to catch up. My favorite moment? The sequence where a group of strangers, each manifesting abilities tied to their ancestors’ traumas, realize they’ve been *speaking* to each other’s souls via dialect and rhythm. It’s messy, poetic, and utterly unforgettable. That said, the pacing hiccups: a few early scenes drag as worldbuilding swamps emotional beats, and the second act’s time jumps could’ve used smoother transitions. Narratively, Lawson trusts the audience to sit with discomfort, which pays off—but not every listener will have the patience. The full cast shines, though. Michael Marcelio’s villainous smarm is deliciously unhinged, while Kyla Garcia’s layered performance as the protagonist’s morally gray sister steals every scene she’s in. The audio quality is crisp, but the real triumph is how the ensemble makes supernatural elements feel *visceral*—like you’re eavesdropping on a ritual. Worth it for readers who crave fantasy that bites.