Frostfell

I’ll admit, I went into *Frostfell* expecting another *Game of Thrones*-lite winter adventure, but what I got was something far more visceral. The story follows a group of misfits—thieves, outcasts, and one painfully earnest scholar—as they’re trapped in a cursed city where the cold doesn’t just kill you, it *unmakes* you. The worldbuilding is relentless: no info-dumps, just a slow, creeping dread as you piece together the rules of this frozen hellscape alongside the characters. Bruce Miles’ narration is a masterclass in restraint. He doesn’t overperform the horror; instead, he lets the silence between words do the work, making the rare moments of panic or tenderness hit like a gut punch. That said, the pacing isn’t perfect. The middle act drags slightly as the characters (and the plot) circle the same moral quandaries a beat too long. And while the magic system is refreshingly original, its rules could’ve used one more pass for clarity—there were moments I had to rewind to parse how a particular spell *actually* worked. But these are quibbles. The final act is a knockout, and the ending—well, let’s just say it doesn’t cop out. If you love fantasy that’s more *The Terror* than *Narnia*, with narration that respects your intelligence, *Frostfell* is your next listen. Just keep a blanket handy.