Transcendent

I’ll admit, I went into *Transcendent* skeptical—another ‘chosen one’ story? But Alanson flips the script by making Koren’s ‘chosen’ status the *problem*, not the prize. The opening act is a masterclass in narrative cruelty: Koren’s life is systematically dismantled by the very people who should’ve protected him, and the audiobook *thrives* on that simmering resentment. Reynolds’ performance is a huge part of why it works. His Koren isn’t a whiny underdog; he’s a man who’s been chewed up and spat out by the system, and Reynolds’ voice carries that weight—rough around the edges, but with a razor’s precision when it counts. The magic system is another standout: no vague ‘energy’ here, just brutal, physics-defying power with a body count. Alanson’s fight scenes are *loud* in the best way, and Reynolds’ delivery makes them feel like they’re happening in your skull. That said, the pacing isn’t perfect. The midsection sags slightly under the weight of Koren’s introspection—necessary, but occasionally repetitive—and a few side characters blur together in the chaos. And while the worldbuilding is lean and mean, I wanted *more* of the wizards’ political rot; their hypocrisy is delicious, but the audiobook sometimes races past the juiciest intrigue. Still, the finale is worth the ride: a climactic showdown that’s equal parts cathartic and devastating, with Reynolds’ narration pushing it into ‘rewind and listen again’ territory. If you love antiheroes with a cause, magic that *costs*, and narrators who sound like they’ve just downed a shot of whiskey before recording, this is your next obsession.