After finishing Wishing Stars, I had the luxury of diving straight into The Paragon Games without having to endure the agonizing wait between releases, which I now recognize as significant, because returning to Hannah Lindsey’s world feels much like slipping back into a dreamscape you never wanted to wake from.
Right from the start, The Paragon Games eases readers gently back into the world of the Agapéd Bearer. For those who’ve taken a break between books, the re-entry is thoughtful and deliberate: characters are reintroduced with just enough warmth and clarity to reestablish connection without ever feeling repetitive, and the world breathes with familiar wonder. Lindsey has a rare gift for atmosphere. Her settings are not just backdrops — they are experiences. From the frostbitten magic of Nuolja to the quiet internality of character moments, you can feel the places Lisa walks through. The texture, the color, even the scent of these spaces... Lindsey brings it all to life with remarkable grace.
At its heart, The Paragon Games follows Lisa as she enters a magical tournament designed not only to test her growing abilities, but to draw her deeper into the reality of her role as an Agapéd Bearer. The stakes are personal and political, and the book navigates this balance with emotional maturity. It’s not just about power. It’s about visibility, secrecy, and how much of herself Lisa is willing (or forced) to reveal to a world that isn’t quite ready for her. The way her identity slowly unfurls over the course of the story is both moving and impactful.
The introduction of new characters is one of the book’s great strengths. Ayker and his loyal Widmoos are standouts. Charming, original, and instantly lovable. Their dynamic injects both heart and levity into the story. I found Ayker’s arc to be one of the most emotionally compelling in the book, and I suspect he’ll become a fan favorite (if he isn’t already).
Another element that really worked for me was the slow-burning romance between Lisa and Prince Cal. Knowing in advance from Instagram teasers that something might eventually develop between them made it especially rewarding to see those early emotional seeds take root. The relationship is handled with subtlety and care; there’s no rush to get to a “moment,” no heavy-handed tropes. Just a quiet, growing intimacy between two people who see and respect one another. Their bond feels earned, and I genuinely look forward to seeing how this connection evolves.
Now, for the critique: Many of the stylistic issues that held Wishing Stars back are still present here. Lindsey’s prose remains lush, but at times, the level of descriptive detail crosses a line. Beautiful imagery and emotional insight are certainly welcome in a character-driven fantasy, but when nearly every line of dialogue is followed by a paragraph of internal reaction, narrative interpretation, or repeated emotional clarification, the pacing suffers. Momentum is lost in moments where urgency should build. The story pauses too frequently to explain what readers have already been shown and in doing so, it undercuts its own dramatic rhythm.
It’s a bit like watching a film where the pause button is constantly being hit, followed by a voiceover explaining what just happened in case you missed it. And while this approach might stem from a genuine desire to be thorough or emotionally precise, it also suggests a lack of trust in the reader. Characters like Gaius, Odette Cal, or Lisa herself are by now well-established. We know what they look like, we understand their motivations, yet their appearances and thoughts are reiterated in minute detail far more often than necessary.
One specific example that stood out to me was the repeated use of the word 'perfect' or 'perfectly' to describe everything from places to gestures to people. It’s a lovely word in moderation, but here, it began to feel overused, even ornamental. Especially in emotionally charged scenes, such repetition can unintentionally flatten the impact of the moment by removing nuance.
The structure of the book also warrants some critique. For a novel titled 'The Paragon Games', it was surprising to find that the actual games don’t begin until well into the second half of the book. The first half, while rich in worldbuilding and character development, feels somewhat stretched. There’s a sense that the story meanders before it finds its core momentum. I truly believe much of this could have been streamlined, particularly by trimming down some of the over-description and leaning more confidently into subtext.
That being said, Lindsey’s strengths remain compelling: her emotional intelligence, her talent for evoking mood, and her deep empathy for her characters shine throughout. There is genuine growth here — not just in Lisa, but in many members of the cast. The development is subtle yet meaningful, and Lindsay’s understanding of grief, love, fear, and longing gives the novel its heart. For all its excesses, this is a book that feels deeply and that feeling is contagious.
The Paragon Games is an ambitious, emotionally rich continuation of Lisa’s journey. While it carries forward some of the stylistic excesses of its predecessor, it also expands the world and deepens the narrative in rewarding ways. It’s a story full of sincerity, imagination, and heart, and I can’t help but admire Lindsey’s willingness to tell it exactly the way she wants to, even if that means indulging in a bit too much description now and then.
I remain genuinely invested in this series, and I look forward to wherever Lisa’s path leads next.