Prism Academy: Shadowfall

I’ll admit, I went into *Shadowfall* skeptical of yet another ‘magic school’ story, but Burke dismantles the trope within the first hour. Aden isn’t a chosen one—he’s a survivor with a target on his back, and the academy isn’t a sanctuary but a gilded cage. The narration team sells this perfectly: Waters’ Aden sounds like a kid who’s seen too much, his voice a mix of exhaustion and simmering rage, while York’s delivery of the faculty—especially the chillingly pragmatic Headmaster—adds layers of menace to every ‘helpful’ piece of advice. The production shines in the action sequences, where the narrators’ timing and the sparse but effective sound design (a crackling spell here, a distant scream there) make the magic feel visceral. That said, the middle act drags slightly under the weight of its own intrigue. Burke’s world is rich, but there are moments where the political machinations overshadow character development—you’ll occasionally crave more emotional beats amid the scheming. And while the dual narration mostly works, York’s voice for one minor antagonist veers into cartoonish territory, a rare misstep in an otherwise stellar performance. Still, the payoff is worth it: the final act delivers a gut-punch twist that recontextualizes everything, and the narrators’ delivery ensures it lands like a blade between the ribs. If you love morally gray fantasy with a side of academic cutthroat-ery, this is a masterclass in tension.