The first time I stumbled upon 'The Beholden', I was immediately drawn in by its hauntingly beautiful cover—a twisted tree with roots like veins under a blood-red moon. It’s a dark fantasy novel that weaves together themes of sacrifice, cursed love, and the weight of destiny. The story follows Celia, a woman bound by a centuries-old pact her ancestors made with otherworldly beings called the Beholden. These entities demand a life for every generation, and Celia’s turn is coming due. But she’s not willing to play by their rules. What unfolds is this gorgeously bleak journey where she fights to unravel the pact, even as the Beholden manipulate everyone around her to ensure her compliance. The prose is lyrical but brutal, like a fairy tale gone feral.
What really stuck with me, though, was how it explores the idea of inherited guilt. Celia isn’t just battling supernatural forces; she’s wrestling with the moral legacy of her family. There’s a scene where she confronts the ghost of her great-grandmother, and the dialogue is just chef’s kiss—full of resentment and sorrow. The world-building is subtle but immersive, with these eerie rituals and folklore snippets that feel like they’ve been pulled from some long-lost grimoire. If you’re into atmospheric, character-driven horror-fantasy hybrids (think '
the hazel wood' meets 'The Library at Mount Char'), this one’s a must-read. I finished it in two sleepless nights, haunted in the best way.