Leigh Bardugo’s Hell Bent slams the gates of academia open and dares its readers to follow her straight into the underworld. The sequel to Ninth House is equal parts gothic thriller, dark academia fever dream, and meditation on the cost of power. It’s a novel that hums with danger, wit, and the faint scent of candle wax from a centuries-old library that’s seen far too much.

Alex Stern, Bardugo’s deliciously defiant heroine, returns bruised but unbowed, and this time she’s determined to break every rule that keeps her from saving the one person she cannot lose. What follows is less an investigation than a descent — into Yale’s secret societies, into moral compromise, and, quite literally, into Hell. Bardugo builds her world with the kind of confidence that makes you forget it isn’t real: the wards, the rituals, the demons lurking behind ivy-covered walls all pulse with unnerving plausibility.

If Ninth House was about initiation — a raw outsider learning the rules — Hell Bent is about what happens when the initiate stops playing by them. The prose is lush without being indulgent; Bardugo writes like someone sharpening a blade. There’s dark humour threaded through the terror, and moments of surprising tenderness amid the carnage. This isn’t a campus novel for comfort. It’s a book that revels in moral ambiguity, where friendship is forged in blood and redemption comes at a steep price. Yet it’s also strangely exhilarating — a story about defiance, loyalty, and the stubborn belief that even in the darkest circles of Hell, light can flicker through.

For readers new to Bardugo, Hell Bent might be an intense initiation. For returning fans, it’s proof she’s one of the few writers who can merge myth, mystery, and mayhem with genuine emotional intelligence.