Jenn Lyons

Since Kihrin D'Mon destroyed the Stone of Shackles and unleashed demons across the empire of Quur, he's been running—from soldiers, from consequences, from the weight of what he's done. The world he broke is hunting him, and there's nowhere left to hide that doesn't feel like a trap waiting to spring. His flight brings him face to face with Janel Theranon, a Joratese woman who knows his name before he speaks it, who carries secrets in her eyes and a plea on her lips that will drag him deeper into danger than he's ever known. She needs his help against forces that could shatter cities, against a rebellion simmering in shadows, against a dragon whose fury could turn stone to ash. But the real threat is Relos Var, the wizard who has haunted Kihrin's steps like a ghost with unfinished business. Janel believes Var has found the Name of All Things, a Cornerstone artifact of such staggering power that it could reshape reality itself, and if she's right, then every move Kihrin makes might already be known, every escape route already closed. Because what Relos Var wants isn't conquest or glory or even the world—it's Kihrin himself, and the price of that wanting might be everything Kihrin believes in, everything he's fought to protect, everything he thought he could never be forced to surrender.

This book takes everything you think you know about chosen-one fantasies and burns it to the ground. Jenn Lyons doesn't just subvert expectations—she obliterates them. Kihrin grew up as a bastard orphan, dreaming the dreams orphans dream: lost princes, grand destinies, the whole fairy tale. Then he gets claimed as the long-lost son of a treasonous prince, and reality hits hard. This isn't a rescue. It's a trap. His new family doesn't want him—they want to use him. He's a pawn in their power plays, a piece on a board he doesn't understand. And everything the storybooks promised? Dragons, demons, gods, prophecies, true love, the hero's inevitable victory? All lies. Or at least, not the versions he was told. Here's the kicker: Kihrin isn't destined to save the empire. He might be destined to destroy it. Lyons builds a world where prophecy is a weapon, family is a curse, and the line between hero and villain depends entirely on where you're standing. The stakes are cosmic, the betrayals are personal, and Kihrin has to figure out who he is when everything he believed turns out to be fiction. Sharp, dark, and utterly uncompromising.

The end of the world has never felt so close, so inevitable, so terrifyingly within reach—demons roam freely across the empire, ancient prophecies unfold with merciless precision, and the fragile thread holding humanity together grows thinner by the hour. Kihrin carries the weight of impossible choices on his shoulders as he races to convince the immortal Manol vané to sacrifice everything they are, stripping away their eternal lives through a ritual that could buy humanity precious time. But the vané themselves are divided, and some would rather see their messengers dead than surrender immortality, turning what should be a diplomatic mission into a deadly game of survival. Every step forward feels like walking a blade's edge, knowing that failure means not just his own death but the collapse of everything. Yet the most terrifying threat may not be the assassins or the demons or even the prophecies themselves—it's the darkness growing inside Kihrin, his connection to Vol Karoth, the king of demons, strengthening with each passing day. How do you save the world when you might be the very thing that destroys it? Jenn Lyons weaves a tale of impossible stakes and moral complexity, where the line between savior and destroyer blurs until you can't tell which side of it you're standing on.

In the aftermath of the Ritual of Night, the world teeters on the edge of annihilation, and the Eight Immortals—those ancient, supposedly infallible guardians—have failed catastrophically. Kihrin's enemies are advancing their plans to free Vol Karoth, the King of Demons, and the stakes have never been more absolute: not just the fate of kingdoms, but the survival of existence itself. Jenn Lyons returns with this installment in A Chorus of Dragons series, where the lines between hero and destroyer blur into something far more dangerous than prophecy ever predicted. Kihrin has his own desperate strategy for fighting back, but it demands a sacrifice so profound that even victory might taste like ash. His allies face an impossible dilemma: can they save the world and save Kihrin at the same time, or will they be forced to witness his transformation into the very evil they've sworn to destroy? Lyons writes with the kind of mythic scope that makes you feel the weight of immortal choices, the terrible intimacy of watching someone you love become something monstrous. This is epic fantasy that understands the cost of heroism isn't just death—sometimes it's becoming the thing you fear most, and asking those who love you to make the choice you cannot.

Three players circle the board as the universe teeters on the edge of annihilation. Relos Var is poised to enslave everything that exists, convinced only the demon Xaltorath can thwart him. But neither mastermind is watching the third piece in play: Kihrin, who must convince them both he's merely a pawn. To survive, Kihrin has to become the nightmare the prophecies warned about—the sun eater, the destroyer of all, a remorseless plague. He must act the part so convincingly that no one suspects the truth: he's desperately trying not to kill the people he loves or the remaining Immortals. It's a razor's edge to walk, made worse by the fact that his performance isn't entirely pretense. A corrupted magic ritual has twisted him and the dragons both, leaving aftereffects he's still struggling to control. His body is now the literal avatar of a star, and it's becoming catastrophically unstable. Jenn Lyons brings her Chorus of Dragons series to its shattering conclusion with a story about the terrible cost of playing the monster. Kihrin is running out of time, his form unraveling as he races to save a universe that believes he's come to destroy it. This is epic fantasy at its most ambitious—a finale where the line between savior and apocalypse blurs until you can't tell which side anyone is on.

Jenn Lyons delivers a standalone fantasy that burns with ambition and consequence. The Sky on Fire is a story about power—who wields it, who suffers under it, and what happens when the natural order is upended by forces that refuse to be contained. This is epic fantasy stripped of easy answers, where the stakes are cosmic but the choices remain achingly human. At its heart lies a conflict that threatens to consume everything: a world where the sky itself has become a weapon, where fire rains down and survival depends on understanding forces that were never meant to be controlled. Lyons constructs a narrative that moves between intimate character moments and sweeping catastrophe, balancing the personal cost of heroism against the weight of saving—or damning—an entire world. The tension never lets up. What makes this work is Lyons' refusal to flinch. Her characters are flawed, desperate, and driven by motives that complicate rather than clarify. The magic system feels dangerous, unpredictable, alive. This isn't a book about chosen ones marching toward destiny—it's about people making impossible choices in a world that's already on fire, trying to decide what's worth saving when everything is burning. Lyons has crafted something fierce and uncompromising, a fantasy that earns its darkness and its hope in equal measure.

Jenn Lyons delivers a standalone that refuses to play by genre rules. Green & Deadly Things is what happens when you take a fantasy author known for intricate worldbuilding and let her loose on something darker, stranger, and utterly her own. This isn't comfort reading. It's a book that bites. The title tells you everything and nothing. Green suggests nature, growth, life. Deadly promises violence. Things—plural, ambiguous—means you're walking into territory where definitions blur and danger wears a thousand faces. Lyons has built a career on subverting expectations, and here she leans into the unsettling, the liminal spaces where beauty and horror coexist. The prose is sharp. The atmosphere is thick. You'll feel it crawling under your skin. What sets this apart is Lyons' refusal to soften the edges. She writes with the confidence of someone who knows exactly how far to push before the tension snaps. This is a book for readers who want their fantasy laced with dread, who crave stories that don't apologize for their darkness. It's standalone, yes, but it will haunt you long after you close the cover. Lyons proves once again that she's one of the most fearless voices in speculative fiction.