So I Read A Touch of Darkness and Accidentally Joined the Underworld: A Touch of Darkness Review

Who knew a Greek myth retelling could also double as a crash course in emotional whiplash? Because apparently when Scarlett St. Clair writes about gods, they don’t just come with power and brooding tension — they come with a full starter pack of chaos, temptation, and “I need to rethink my entire identity” energy.

Okay, so here’s the vibe: this book feels like someone took a dark romance, dipped it in pomegranate juice, lit a few candles for ambiance, and whispered a myth into your ear at 2 a.m. Persephone is our girl — book girlies rise — stumbling through goddesshood like she’s trying on adulthood one ill-fitting mortal outfit at a time. She’s powerful but unsure, curious but cautious, and deeply committed to the idea that she can live a normal life… despite literally being the Queen of Spring.

Hades? Oh, Hades. He is written like existential dread and forbidden longing linked arms on their way to a corporate retreat. Broody, sharp, strangely respectful, and walking the line between monster and man with the confidence of someone who’s lived several thousand years and learned nothing about staying out of trouble.

The world? Atmospheric. Sensual. Glittery where it needs to be and shadowed everywhere else. You can practically smell the smoke, feel the velvet, taste the wine. It’s intoxicating — the kind of writing that makes you want to lean in closer even when you know you probably shouldn’t.

But here’s where things shift.

For all the charm, the spark, the dizzying mythology, I kept craving a little more substance beneath the shine. More emotional excavation. More mythic scaffolding. I wanted the story to take me down the staircase to the Underworld and then actually keep going, instead of stopping after a few steps and going, “Anyway—!”

Still, if you’re a lover of dark romance, Greek myth retellings, or couples who fall in love like they’ve been doomed to do it across lifetimes, this one is an easy yes. Just don’t be surprised if you’re left with a tiny ache for the deeper, darker version of what the book almost becomes.

⚠️ Spoiler alert: unread mortals, flee now before I ruin the plot like a Greek chorus with no self-control. ⚠️

Now that we’re past Cerberus at the gates, let’s descend.

First: the bargain. It should have been terrifying — a deal that could cost Persephone her freedom, her identity, her entire future. That premise alone carries existential dread. But on the page, the weight of it sometimes slipped through my fingers. I wanted more fear, more tension, more of that “oh god, I might’ve just ruined my entire immortal life” panic.

Then there’s her power — blooming in these gorgeous, fleeting flashes. Creating life in the Underworld? Insane. Huge. Myth-level shattering. But I never quite felt the internal spiral of What does this mean? Who am I becoming? Am I still myself? I wanted her to sit in that fear, grieve it, marvel at it. Give me the messy interiority!

And don’t even get me started on Minthe. The betrayal? Lucious. The drama? Impeccable. But the emotional aftermath felt… tidy. Neat. Gift-wrapped, when I wanted it wild and venomous. Hurt feelings, broken pride, messy consequences — all the ingredients were there, but we barely scraped the bowl.

And then… the ending. Yes, Hades comes for her. Yes, it’s romantic. Yes, the kiss is a moment. But I wanted claws. I wanted devotion that makes Olympus quake. I wanted the rawness of two people fighting tooth and nail for each other after everything they’ve been through. Instead, it felt more like a promise of future angst rather than the culmination of this book’s emotional arc.

Maybe that’s the point — maybe the sequel is meant to carry the real weight. But I was hoping for a little more thunder before the fade-to-black.

I’m not asking for tragedy. I’m asking for echo — myth-level resonance, emotional aftershocks, the kind of storytelling that leaves dust on your hands.

Let us linger in the dark a little longer next time. Let Persephone feel the burn of her own becoming. Let Olympus tremble, just a little.

Overall, would I read more St. Clair? Absolutely. Without hesitation. My signature is already halfway forged.

A Touch of Darkness is enchanting, fun, atmospheric, and deeply readable — it just left me wanting a little more marrow, a little more myth, a little more emotional havoc.

Final verdict: 4/5 stars. Part romance, part myth, part chaos—it’s wickedly addictive, even if it leaves you craving a little more depth in the darkness.

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A Touch of Darkness by Scarlett St. Clair