Zodiac Academy Was Nine Books of Emotional Warfare—and I Couldn’t Stop Reading
This review begins spoiler-light. I will clearly warn you before discussing the outcomes of the major relationships, Darius’s death, and why the ending still does not feel entirely finished to me.
I picked up Zodiac Academy because I had just finished the Empyrean series and was hunting for something that might fill the very specific hole Fourth Wing had left behind. I wanted dragons, magic, danger, complicated relationships, and enough emotional chaos to keep me from calmly putting the book down at a responsible hour.
TikTok suggested Zodiac Academy, but unlike some viral series, it was not being screamed at me from every corner of my feed. I saw enough to become curious without feeling as though I had already watched the entire series through edits and dramatic quotes. That made beginning it more exciting because it still felt like something I had discovered for myself rather than a reading assignment the internet had been trying to force on me.
I started the first book in May and finished the ninth around the middle of July. Somewhere in those two and a half months, I became obsessed with a ridiculous wolf, a grumpy professor, a group of emotionally constipated Fae, several relationships that seemed determined to cause me personal harm, and two authors who apparently consider reader suffering an important part of the experience.
I also needed a two-week mental-health break in the middle because my brain genuinely hurt.
That is probably the most accurate summary of my Zodiac Academy experience: I loved it, I was exhausted by it, I complained constantly, and I could not stop reading. The series earned 4.5 stars from me because the characters and relationships kept me completely invested, but the writing, pacing, and refusal to let certain conflicts die naturally prevented it from becoming a full five-star read.
I Needed Another Obsession After Fourth Wing
Finishing a series that has completely consumed you creates a dangerous kind of emptiness. Normal books suddenly look too quiet. A perfectly pleasant standalone romance cannot compete with dragons, war, magical bonds, and characters making catastrophic decisions while the world collapses around them.
That was where I was when Zodiac Academy entered my life. I was not looking for something calm or carefully balanced. I wanted another world large enough to disappear into, and the fact that the main story already contained nine books was part of the appeal rather than a warning.
I know some readers look at a long series and immediately feel tired. I looked at nine books and thought, Excellent. If I love this, I will not run out tomorrow. I was excited by the possibility of spending weeks with the same characters and watching relationships, loyalties, and personalities change across a story that already had a substantial conclusion waiting for me.
The first book hooked me quickly. I wanted to know what would happen to Tory and Darcy, whether the Heirs would remain complete assholes forever, which relationships would survive, and what new disaster Caroline Peckham and Susanne Valenti would create next. I also wanted to know whether anyone in Solaria would eventually learn to communicate like a functional adult.
That last question remained unanswered for an unreasonable amount of time.
Nine Books Took Over My Summer
Zodiac Academy did not need three or four books to convince me that the larger story might eventually become interesting. Even when I was frustrated with the twins or furious with the Heirs, I wanted to know what happened next. The world kept expanding, the relationships kept changing, and every answer seemed to open the door to another problem waiting behind it.
The length allowed me to become attached to characters in a way that shorter series rarely manage. People I could not stand at the beginning slowly became essential. Relationships that initially seemed ridiculous developed emotional weight. Side characters stopped feeling like background decoration and began carrying entire parts of the story.
At the same time, nine books is a lot of space for a story to repeat itself. Several installments were much longer than they needed to be, and there were moments when the plot seemed to move in circles because everyone refused to say the one useful sentence that might have resolved the conflict two hundred pages earlier.
I came close to throwing more than one book across the room. Not because I wanted to stop reading permanently, but because I was so invested that watching the characters repeat the same mistake became infuriating. I would complain, threaten to take a break, and then immediately continue because I still needed to know which fresh emotional nightmare was waiting in the next chapter.
The Twisted Sisters understand addiction. They may not always understand mercy.
I Loved the Boys Before I Loved the Girls
Tory and Darcy grew on me, but they both tested my patience in the earlier books. I understood that they had been dropped into an unfamiliar world, told they were heirs to a throne they knew nothing about, and immediately targeted by powerful men who wanted them gone. Their anger, distrust, and refusal to fall neatly into line made sense.
They still annoyed me.
The boys captured my attention much faster. Orion, Max, and especially Seth became some of the main reasons I wanted to keep reading. They were complicated, powerful, often ridiculous, and not nearly as emotionally controlled as they believed themselves to be.
I cannot choose one absolute favorite character from the entire series, but Seth belongs near the top. My lovable, ridiculous, derpy wolf boy began as someone I had every reason to dislike, then somehow became one of the characters I was most emotionally protective of.
His chaos and humor were part of the appeal, but his loyalty and growth were what made him impossible not to love. Seth could be completely absurd one moment and painfully vulnerable the next. He wanted affection so badly, even when he had no idea how to ask for it without creating another disaster. Watching him grow beyond the person he was in the beginning became one of the most satisfying parts of the series.
Orion had the dangerous, brooding, forbidden quality that immediately works on me, while Max gradually revealed more emotional depth than I expected from him early on. The longer the series continued, the harder it became to think of the Heirs as one group. Their individual fears, loyalties, relationships, and failures became far more interesting than the powerful-asshole act they presented at the beginning.
Geraldine Drove Me Absolutely Insane
I need to be honest: I could not tolerate Geraldine half the time.
Her speeches were endless. Everything had to become a theatrical declaration involving Tory and Darcy’s royal greatness, some bizarre food reference, or a phrase no normal person in Solaria—or anywhere else—would ever willingly say. Whenever Geraldine entered a scene, I knew we were about to take the longest possible route toward whatever point she was trying to make.
She drove me crazy.
However, the books would not have been the same without her crazy ass.
Geraldine’s loyalty never felt uncertain. She believed in the twins with every dramatic piece of her soul, and her overwhelming personality became part of the identity of the series. She added humor, chaos, and a kind of unconditional support that Tory and Darcy did not always know how to accept.
I may have wanted to skip half her speeches, but removing her would have left a noticeable hole in Solaria. She was irritating because she was Geraldine, and apparently being annoyed by her while also admitting she was necessary is another emotional contradiction this series forced me to accept.
Major Zodiac Academy Spoilers Begin Here
The following sections discuss Darcy and Orion’s outcome, Seth and Caleb’s relationship, Tory and Darius, Darius’s death and return, and the final resolution of the main series.
Darcy and Orion Gave Me the Forbidden-Romance Payoff
Darcy and Orion became one of my favorite relationships because their connection grew beyond the forbidden setup that first made it exciting. The teacher-and-student tension caught my attention, obviously, but that alone would not have carried their story through nine books.
They developed genuine emotional attachment beneath the secrecy, danger, and terrible timing. Orion did not simply want Darcy because she was forbidden, and Darcy did not love him only because he was the dark, powerful professor she was not supposed to touch. Their relationship became grounded in how well they understood one another and what they were willing to sacrifice when staying together became increasingly difficult.
The separation and suffering were painful, but they also proved that the relationship could survive beyond attraction. They continued choosing one another even when the consequences were brutal and the story seemed determined to place another obstacle between them every time they came close to happiness.
For every reader who once had an extremely inappropriate crush on a teacher, Darcy and Orion delivered the fantasy ending we absolutely did not need in real life but were perfectly happy to receive in fiction.
Their relationship was forbidden, dramatic, and occasionally a complete disaster. It was also one of the romances I believed in most by the end.
Seth and Caleb Had Me Completely Invested
Seth and Caleb gave the series a different kind of romantic energy. Their relationship grew from friendship, attraction, denial, jealousy, humor, and two powerful men being completely unequipped to handle their own feelings.
The vampire-and-werewolf dynamic was already fun, but what made the relationship work was the vulnerability beneath it. Seth was desperate to be loved and terrified of being rejected. Caleb cared far more than he wanted to admit and repeatedly struggled with what that meant for his identity, expectations, and existing relationships.
Their denial lasted long enough to become frustrating, but I remained invested because the emotional connection was obvious even when they refused to name it. Their friendship already contained affection, possessiveness, and a level of intimacy neither seemed capable of examining without panicking.
I wanted them to stop being idiots and admit what was happening, but the humor surrounding their complete emotional incompetence kept the tension from becoming miserable. Their scenes could be ridiculous and genuinely vulnerable within the same chapter, which fit both characters perfectly.
By the later books, their relationship was one of the resolutions I needed most. I wanted Seth to receive the love he had spent so much time pretending he did not need, and I wanted Caleb to stop treating his feelings like a dangerous magical creature that might disappear if he refused to look directly at it.
Tory and Darius Were Too Toxic for Me
I know Tory and Darius are one of the central relationships in the series, and I understand why many readers love them. Their story is intense, tragic, passionate, and tied directly to the ideas of fate, sacrifice, and rejected bonds that shape the entire world.
They were still too toxic for me.
Being fated mates did not automatically convince me they belonged together. Fate may explain why two people feel pulled toward one another, but it does not erase cruelty, manipulation, or the damage they cause while repeatedly choosing the most painful possible response.
Tory and Darius hurt each other so deeply that I struggled to view the suffering as proof of an epic romance. Their bond carried real emotion, but it also relied on cycles of punishment, rejection, resentment, and trauma. At some point, I stopped believing that destiny alone should guarantee their romantic outcome.
Darius’s death devastated Tory and changed her in ways that made complete sense. Her grief was enormous because he had become central to her life, regardless of how unhealthy parts of their history had been. I understood why she refused to accept losing him and why bringing him back became more important than any reasonable boundary.
However, I also felt the story could have allowed Tory’s journey to move in another direction. Surviving terrible things with someone does not automatically make the relationship healthy, and tragedy does not repair the problems that existed before it.
This is my personal reaction, not a declaration that readers who loved them misunderstood the story. I simply needed more than fate and suffering to make me believe their relationship was the best possible future for Tory.
The Writing Nearly Defeated Me
The characters earned most of the 4.5 stars. The writing is why the series lost the other half.
Several books were far longer than the story required. I love a detailed fantasy series, and I clearly was not intimidated by the commitment, but length needs to earn its place. Too many arguments repeated the same emotional point, conflicts continued well beyond their natural ending, and the characters regularly withheld information because honest communication would have shortened the book.
There were sections where the prose and editing felt uneven, especially when compared with the emotional strength of the characters. A powerful scene could be followed by pages of repetition or dialogue that explained something I already understood. The authors would create genuine tension, then stretch it until I was no longer tense—I was simply tired.
The emotional suffering also became relentless. Every time the characters survived one disaster, another arrived before anyone had enough space to process what had happened. Constant escalation can be addictive, but without breathing room, even devastating events begin competing with one another rather than landing fully.
Eventually, I needed a two-week break. My brain hurt, and continuing immediately would have damaged my enjoyment more than stepping away. I needed to read something else, remember that fictional characters were allowed to experience happiness occasionally, and return when I was ready to reenter Solaria’s endless cycle of bad communication and emotional warfare.
Taking that break helped. I was still invested when I returned, but I was no longer reading from a place of pure mental exhaustion. A long series should be allowed to take time, and there is no prize for forcing yourself through several thousand pages when your brain is begging you to stop.
I Read the Main Series Straight Through
Before starting Zodiac Academy, I saw reading orders that included novellas, alternate perspectives, connected series, and a tandem read involving books eight and 8.5. I decided very quickly that I was not turning my first experience into an organizational project.
I read the nine main books consecutively, and that worked perfectly well for me. I never felt so confused that I could not understand the story, and I did not feel as though the emotional experience was incomplete because I had skipped an optional novella at a specific point.
Expanded reading orders can add context, alternate perspectives, and additional emotional weight, but they should feel like enrichment rather than an entry requirement. A reader should be able to begin the main series without needing a spreadsheet, three connected-series charts, and instructions about changing books after chapter seventeen.
The one experience I may revisit is the tandem option for Sorrow and Starlight and Beyond the Veil. Knowing that the companion book follows the characters beyond the Veil during the events of book eight makes Darius’s perspective and the afterlife material sound meaningful enough that I may eventually return and see how reading them together changes the emotional impact.
I also own Foxy Tales and plan to read it, and I have already ordered the upcoming Christmas special. So while I firmly believe the extras were not required for my first journey through the main story, I am apparently collecting them anyway.
Consistency has never been my strongest quality when special editions are involved.
I Wanted More from the Ending
After nine books, several emotional breakdowns, multiple deaths, reversals, sacrifices, and enough suffering to sustain an entire kingdom, I expected the ending to feel more complete than it did.
I am not saying the main conflict was ignored or that the story ended on a confirmed cliffhanger. The characters reached a resolution, and the series gave many of the relationships the outcomes readers had been waiting for.
However, the ending still felt open enough that I questioned whether the door had been left that way intentionally. Some threads seemed available for future stories, and the world did not feel fully closed when I reached the final page.
Maybe the authors wanted readers to understand that life in Solaria continued beyond the central conflict. Maybe they deliberately left room to return to these characters. Maybe the ending simply did not provide the level of emotional closure I expected after spending two and a half months inside the series.
Whatever the reason, I wanted more. After everything the books had demanded from me, I wanted time to sit with the characters after the war, understand where everyone truly landed, and feel that the suffering had been balanced by a fuller payoff.
Instead, I finished satisfied with many of the outcomes but not entirely convinced the story felt finished.
So Naturally, I Started Buying the Hardcovers
The most ridiculous part of this entire reading experience is what happened after I finished.
I had spent several books complaining about the length. I had criticized the pacing, the repetition, the editing, the toxic relationships, and the authors’ apparent commitment to emotionally torturing their audience. I had needed a two-week break because the series had become mentally exhausting.
Then I immediately began buying it again in prettier hardcovers.
I strongly prefer hardcovers to paperbacks, especially for a long fantasy series I know I want to keep. I had wanted the Bookish Box editions but could not get them, so when I found the newer special hardcovers available through the Twisted Sisters’ shop, they became the set I needed for my shelves.
This is how I know the series truly got me. I did not finish and quietly move on. I wanted physical editions that felt worthy of the amount of time, emotion, and occasional rage the story had taken from me.
Collecting the hardcovers is not proof that every book was perfectly written. It is proof that the characters stayed with me despite the flaws. Seth, Caleb, Darcy, Orion, Max, Tory, Darius, and even Geraldine’s crazy ass had become part of one of the biggest reading experiences of my summer.
Apparently surviving nine books of emotional warfare creates a bond.
An expensive, shelf-consuming bond.
Is Zodiac Academy Worth Reading?
I would recommend Zodiac Academy to readers who want a long fantasy series they can completely disappear into. It offers Fae, dragons, vampires, werewolves, sirens, elemental magic, astrology, found family, bully romance, enemies-to-lovers tension, forbidden relationships, ridiculous humor, and a large cast with enough emotional problems to keep the story moving for thousands of pages.
The series may be worth the commitment if you enjoy:
- Long completed main-story binges
- Large casts that become more important over time
- Complicated side romances
- Forbidden love and fated bonds
- Fae, dragons, astrology, and elemental magic
- Found family and shifting loyalties
- Ridiculous humor beside genuine grief
- Constant twists and painful cliffhangers
- Characters who begin as enemies and slowly become essential
- Suffering for an eventual romantic payoff
I would warn readers that the series is extremely long, several installments drag, and the writing and editing can be uneven. Communication failures repeatedly extend conflicts, some relationships are deeply toxic, and the authors appear to enjoy making readers love characters immediately before placing them through hell.
Take breaks when you need them. Skip the complicated reading order if it makes beginning the series feel like homework. Read the main books straight through if that is the experience you want, then return for the extras that interest you afterward.
Most importantly, do not assume that finishing the series means the financial damage is over. You may survive nine books only to discover that you suddenly need all of them again in expensive hardcover editions.
My Final Reading-Room Verdict
Zodiac Academy consumed my summer. I started in May looking for another fantasy obsession after Fourth Wing, and by the middle of July I had survived nine books, taken a mental-health break, formed unreasonable attachments to several fictional men, and started building a special-edition collection.
The series earned 4.5 stars because the characters, relationships, magic, humor, and constant need to know what happened next outweighed the structural problems. I could not give it a full five because too many books were longer than necessary, too many conflicts repeated themselves, and the emotional suffering occasionally became exhausting rather than powerful.
Still, I could not stop reading. Seth became my lovable derpy wolf boy. Darcy and Orion gave me the forbidden-romance payoff. Seth and Caleb made me desperate for two powerful men to communicate honestly for five damn minutes. Tory and Darius remained too toxic for me, even while I understood why their tragedy affected so many readers.
Geraldine nearly drove me out of Solaria with her speeches, yet the series would have felt wrong without her.
I wanted more from the ending, and I am still not sure whether the story was deliberately left open enough for the authors to return. But maybe that uncertainty is fitting for a series that spent nine books refusing to let me feel comfortable for longer than a chapter.
I complained. I cried. I took a break. I threatened several fictional people. Then I finished the series and bought it again in hardcover.
That is not a perfect reading experience.
It is definitely an obsession.
Morally Grey Margins is not affiliated with Caroline Peckham, Susanne Valenti, their publishers, retailers, special-edition companies, or any books and authors discussed in this review. All opinions reflect my personal reading experience.