Squire

About This Audiobook

Squire isn’t just another dragon tale—it’s a colony-world mystery wrapped in coming-of-age grit. Kace, a scrappy young archer, stumbles into a truth that shatters his world: the planet wasn’t just settled—it was *abandoned*. The ruins, the whispers of the past, the sudden reappearance of dragons, all point to a betrayal deeper than he ever imagined. Goodman’s worldbuilding is relentless, blending the claustrophobic tension of a forgotten colony with the sweeping scale of a fantasy empire on the brink of collapse. The prose crackles with a raw, almost experimental energy, as if the story itself is trying to remember its own forgotten name. If you crave fantasy that feels *alive*—less polished myth, more lived-in nightmare—this is your book.

The narration by Virtual Voice is a wild card that mostly pays off. The synthetic voice isn’t just a gimmick; it’s a deliberate choice that mirrors the story’s themes of artificiality and broken systems. At its best, it lends the prose a detached, almost clinical tone that underscores Kace’s isolation. At its worst, it veers into uncanny valley territory during emotional beats, where the lack of human inflection makes sorrow feel *almost* there, but not quite. Still, the pacing keeps you locked in, even when the plot takes a left turn into political intrigue that feels a tad overstuffed. This isn’t a gentle fantasy—it’s a story that demands your attention, rewards it with fire and fury, and occasionally leaves you questioning whether the dragons were ever the real monsters."

"review": "I’ll admit, I was skeptical when I heard a synthetic voice was narrating Squire—most AI narrations sound like a GPS reading a Tolkein novel. But Virtual Voice surprised me. The monotone delivery isn’t a flaw here; it’s a *feature*. It mimics the cold, almost robotic detachment of the colony’s forgotten history, making Kace’s discoveries feel like files being pulled from a corrupted database. The voice’s lack of emotional embellishment forces you to lean in, to *feel* the weight of Kace’s disillusionment rather than just hear it. That said, moments of high emotion—like Kace’s first encounter with a dragon’s fire—suffer from the narration’s stiffness. The awe doesn’t land with the same punch it would with a human voice, and that’s a shame because the prose itself is *electric*. Goodman’s writing is visceral, with descriptions that linger on the scent of burning metal and the crunch of ancient stone underfoot. The dragons aren’t just beasts; they’re living contradictions, symbols of both salvation and destruction, and the world they inhabit feels real in a way that’s rare for fantasy. That said, the middle act drags a bit too much, with political maneuvering that slows the momentum. It’s not enough to ruin the experience, but it does make you wonder if the story’s heart is the dragons or the bureaucracy. Still, by the final reel, even the clunky narration can’t mask the gut-punch ending. If you’re here for dragons, you’ll get them—but be prepared for a story that’s as much about what’s lost as it is about what’s found.