Jade und Obsidian

About This Audiobook

*Jade und Obsidian* isn’t just another YA fantasy—it’s a razor-sharp blend of political intrigue and mythic stakes, where two cursed blades become the fulcrum of a kingdom’s fate. June CL Tan crafts a world where magic is as dangerous as the people wielding it, and the dual narration by Katja Sallay and Dirk Jacobs amplifies the tension: Sallay’s Ahn crackles with defiant energy, while Jacobs’ Altan carries the weight of a fallen prince with haunting precision. What sets this apart is its refusal to romanticize destiny; the swordplay is brutal, the romance is laced with betrayal, and the lore feels unearthed rather than invented.

The audiobook’s production leans into its duality—literally. The narrators’ distinct vocal textures (Sallay’s clipped, urgent delivery vs. Jacobs’ measured gravitas) mirror the clash between Ahn’s survivalist grit and Altan’s aristocratic torment. The pacing is relentless, but not at the expense of atmosphere: listen for the way silence hangs after a revelation, or how the German phrases woven into the dialogue (untranslated, deliberate) add a layer of authenticity to the worldbuilding. This isn’t a fantasy that holds your hand; it demands you keep up."

"review": "I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes at first when I heard *another* ‘cursed swords and doomed lovers’ premise—but *Jade und Obsidian* disarmed me within chapters. The narration is the star here: Katja Sallay’s Ahn sounds like she’s always five seconds from drawing her blade, her voice rough with the kind of exhaustion that comes from being hunted your whole life. Dirk Jacobs, meanwhile, gives Altan a tragic nobility that never tips into whining, even when the script flirts with angst. Their chemistry in shared scenes is electric, though I’ll dock a point for the occasional overuse of breathy pauses during emotional beats—it works *once*, but by the third time, it feels like a crutch.

The story’s strongest asset is its refusal to glorify its protagonists. Ahn isn’t a plucky underdog; she’s ruthless, and the book lets her stay that way. Altan’s redemption arc isn’t tidy, and the political maneuvering around the swords’ legend feels like a game of chess where every piece is a liar. That said, the middle act drags slightly with repetitive training montages (yes, we get it, the swords are *hard* to wield), and the German dialogue, while immersive, might frustrate listeners who don’t speak the language—no translations are offered, and context isn’t always enough. Still, the final act’s twists land like gut punches, and the narrators sell every one. If you’re tired of YA fantasy that softens its edges, this one leaves bruises—in the best way.