El legado de Nahia, the third book in El Legado de las Hadas series, dives deep into a rich, multi-generational tale of family, loss, identity, and the eternal tug-of-war between the mystical world of the fairies and the grounding pull of humanity. Centered around Nahia, a fairy torn between love for her human-turned-family and her duties in the Soberanía de las Hadas, this story weaves together folklore, emotion, and a hefty dose of existential pondering. It’s got betrayal, longing, interdimensional drama, and a whole lot of heart.

I was pulled in by the elegance of Bossano’s world-building. That intro on the mythology of fairies is gold. Who doesn’t love the idea of a hidden, ancient race with a code of ethics more complicated than ours? The description of the glamour, their powers, and the strict structure of their matriarchal society sets the tone for a story that isn’t just fantasy—it feels like a believable, fleshed-out parallel reality.

What got me the most, though, was how human Nahia is. Her grief over losing Celeste felt raw and real. She’s not some shiny, perfect fairy—she’s messy, angry, petty even. When she talks about how unfair it is that Celeste died of old age while she, Nahia, still looks eighteen… oof. That bitterness, that jealousy—that’s the kind of vulnerability that made me root for her even when she did something awful.

There were moments when I wanted to shake Nahia. Her hatred for Alaia? It’s kind of intense. I get that Alaia’s a little uptight and maybe not the fairy-loving granddaughter Nahia dreamed of—but it goes beyond petty. Even Nahia’s internal struggle after stealing Calisto—like when she’s hit with the reality of caring for a baby who screams all night was funny and sad and brutally honest.

The writing is lush, poetic in places, and surprisingly down-to-earth in others. Bossano doesn’t shy away from waxing lyrical, but it never feels pretentious. Even when the fairies are flying around glowing like bioluminescent marbles, the story stays grounded in very human emotions: longing, regret, the desire to be remembered, to leave a legacy. That tension between the eternal life of a fairy and the brief, messy beauty of human life? It’s everywhere in this book, and it hits.

El legado de Nahia is about family—chosen, born, and lost. It’s about the ache of time, the price of decisions, and how love—real love—can stretch across worlds. I’d recommend it to anyone who’s a sucker for character-driven fantasy or who’s ever felt like they’re caught between two worlds and not fully at home in either. If you like your fairy tales with a side of real emotion and a splash of bittersweet, this book will resonate with you.

Pages: 305