There is a special kind of thrill in discovering a debut novel that knows precisely what it wants to be. Reign of Pawns by V. S. Edwár presents itself with quiet confidence, promising readers a journey that blends suspense, mythology, psychological tension, and contemporary adventure. Even before its mid-December release, the book has stirred a noticeable curiosity among early readers on Goodreads. Their reactions form a pattern. They speak about the lure of unanswered questions, the depth of its mythological undertones, and the feeling that the author is attempting something larger than an ordinary thriller. A sense of anticipation is building, and much of it can be traced back to how the book constructs its moments of intrigue.

Consider the opening sequence, for instance. The novel begins not with an explosion or a chase but with a live broadcast of the British State Opening of Parliament. The description is so vivid that it feels like stepping into a documentary. Viewers of the broadcast follow Ethan and Samantha as they describe the regal movement of the Imperial State Crown, the slow march through the Palace of Westminster, and the significance of the Queen’s ceremonial presence. It is a serene scene, rich with heritage and tradition. Yet readers soon realise that this calm beginning is not meant to lull them. It is intended to contrast sharply with the storm that follows. In a book that eventually grapples with ancient mysteries and modern power plays, this ceremonious start becomes the first quiet spark of tension. It suggests that, even behind the most polished traditions, hidden dynamics may be at work.

This shift becomes clear when the first abduction takes place. Darren Swanson, a billionaire heir from Texas, is drugged in a hospital bed, transported across continents, and awakens months later in a dungeon. The scene is not written with dramatic excess. Instead, the author uses confusion and disorientation to maintain suspense. Darren wakes to blank walls, rusted chains, and the chilling discovery that he is not alone. Four other men from different countries lie chained beside him, equally clueless. Aarno, Ojoré, Liang, and Diego do not know each other. Their lives share no visible link. Their captor is nowhere in sight. The basement becomes one of the first anchors of mystery, and the question of why these five men have been brought here becomes the thread that pulls the reader forward.

Curiosity intensifies when Sánchez enters their lives. This soft-spoken man reads them what seem at first to be episodes from the Mahabharata. He recounts the stories of Ganga, Shantanu, Satyavati, Vyasa, Pandu, Karna, and others with such care that the captives cannot help but listen. But these are not ornamental digressions. Early readers on Goodreads have pointed out that the mythology in the book acts like a second narrative hidden beneath the first. The mythic stories appear to mirror the captives’ emotional struggles. And when Sánchez asks them, “Have mysterious things happened to you in the past—things that are impossible in this world?” the tension deepens. The question is directed at them and at the reader. It suggests that the worlds of mythology and modern life may not be entirely separate. They may collide in ways that are yet to be revealed.

One of the most intriguing sequences is the underground dinner arranged by Drágosláv, the man behind the abductions. He brings the families of the captives into the same room while keeping the men paralysed. The scene unfolds with chilling calm. The captives try to move, try to warn their families, try to shout, but their bodies do not obey them. The families have no idea they are witnesses to their loved ones’ imprisonment. The emotional turmoil of this moment has been mentioned by several advanced reviewers who praised the author’s ability to create tension without spectacle. The fear in Ojoré’s eyes, the rage building inside Darren, and the helplessness of Liang, who tries desperately to understand what is happening, make this scene one of the most gripping in the book. It holds the reader’s attention not through physical action but through emotional stakes.

The novel moves far beyond the basement. One of the most atmospheric scenes takes place in Konark during a devastating cyclone. While the world outside reels under nature’s fury, two mysterious men appear inside the storm’s eye. Ushvatthama and Aroon stand within a glowing sphere, untouched by the winds, observing the chaos with an eerie calm. Their conversation hints at forgotten weapons, cosmic justice, and a history that stretches far beyond the reach of modern science. This moment has already caught the attention of myth-loving readers who sense its connection to Indian epics. The scene widens the novel’s scope dramatically, reminding the reader that the story is not only about five men in captivity. It is about something much older that has begun to stir again.

Early Goodreads reviewers have been generous in their praise of how Edwár balances all of this. They note that this is not a book that reveals its secrets quickly. Instead, it rewards patient readers. It uses quiet tension, mythological parallels, atmospheric scenes, and psychological depth to build a slow-burning mystery. The pre-release comments note that this is not the kind of thriller where every chapter ends in a cliffhanger. Instead, it draws you inward, asking you to observe, reflect, and decode. One reviewer noted that the book feels like standing in a room filled with mirrors, each reflecting a different truth. Another said that it is rare to find a debut novel with such narrative confidence, especially one that dares to explore mythology without simplifying it.

Even the smaller character moments contribute to sustaining curiosity. A line such as “The most important thing is that you are not ordinary. All of you know that there’s something special about each of you” adds to the sense that the characters carry hidden significance. And the brief but powerful moment when a woman says, “A wise girl knows when to fight and when to get others to fight for her”, adds emotional weight and hints at the courage some characters will need later in the story. These lines show Edwár’s interest in the inner battles that accompany the larger ones.

As the book prepares for its mid-December release, these scenes serve as teasers that reflect the narrative’s ambition. They show a world that spans continents, a mystery that stretches across centuries, and a plot that refuses to confine itself to a single genre. Adventure readers will find global chases and unexplained survivals. Mythology lovers will recognise ancient echoes behind modern events. Thriller fans will appreciate the psychological tension and carefully planted clues. And contemporary fiction readers will find characters who feel authentic, vulnerable, and conflicted, even as they navigate extraordinary circumstances.

If the early reviews are any indication, Reign of Pawns is set to make a memorable entry into the literary world. It promises a narrative that holds its mysteries close, releasing them with care, and a story that feels both grounded and mythic. Readers searching for something different this December may find themselves drawn to this book, not just for what it reveals, but for everything it dares to hint at.

Parakashtha for Indian Book Critics

You can get an advance copy of the book from Amazon India – click here to get it now.

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