The Witches' Sabbath

I’ll admit, I approached *The Witches’ Sabbath* expecting either dry history or New Age fluff. What I got was neither—and both, in the best way. Kelden’s research is meticulous, but he’s not just reciting facts; he’s *interrogating* them. The chapter on the *voland* (the devil-as-host) had me pausing to scribble notes, not because it was shocking, but because it reframed the Sabbath as a *negotiation*—less about worship, more about bartering power. That’s the kind of detail that sticks with you. Tegan Ashton Cohan’s performance is masterful, but not flawless. Her pacing in the denser historical sections occasionally drags, as if she’s wrestling with the weight of the material (a minor gripe, but noticeable in the second hour). Where she shines is the ritualistic passages—her voice drops to a near-whisper during the *unguent* recipes, and you’ll swear you smell herbs burning. The production team deserves credit too: the audio mix uses silence like a spell component, letting Kelden’s warnings about the Sabbath’s *aftermath* (the “witch’s hangover,” as he calls it) land with unsettling clarity. My only real critique? The final chapter rushes the transition from history to modern practice. Kelden spends so much time deconstructing the past that the “how-to” sections feel abrupt, like a sudden jump from archive to altar. Still, that’s a quibble. This audiobook doesn’t just tell you about the Sabbath—it makes you *feel* the pull of the crossroads. If you’ve ever stood under a full moon and wondered, *What if I stepped forward?*, this is your guide. Just don’t blame me if you start hearing the *horn* in your dreams.