I’ve always loved epic fantasy. The genre has been a staple of my reading lists ever since I can remember. The old favorites line the bookshelves, and the new discoveries fill space on the apps on my phone. There’s nothing better for a commute on Boston’s crumbling public transit system than a story that pulls you in so deeply you nearly forget your stop. In the era of indie publishing, my go-to authors for epic fantasy have been Terry Simpson and Melissa McPhail. I first read McPhail’s work when Cephrael’s Hand was new. Through a post on a Facebook group, I volunteered to help with a blog tour, and aspired to do a review. My timing was off. My then-boyfriend-now-husband was just moving in, and digging into a 600+ page novel wasn’t going to happen. Fortunately, the blog tour organizers had premade materials to post in lieu of a review. But for the 150 or so pages I read at the time, the story made an impression. Fast forward to this year, when my commute became longer aft