If the way Linus slowly fell in love with life on Marsyas Island—the gardening with Talia, bedtime talks with Sal, and quiet, steady devotion between Linus and Arthur—made your heart ache in the best way, you’ll adore this. In The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches, Mika Moon is hired to tutor three unruly young witches at an isolated house and, like Linus at DICOMY’s assignment, discovers that rules and reports matter far less than protecting a found family. The household’s warmth, the caretakers’ fierce love, and the children’s chaotic magic echo the charm of Lucy, Chauncey, and Theodore—right down to that “we make our own home” feeling.

You loved that The House in the Cerulean Sea made space for board games, cups of tea, and small acts of care between Linus and Arthur as much as any grand magical reveal. Legends & Lattes offers that same comforting vibe: an orc hangs up her sword to open a coffee shop, gathering a quirky crew that builds a life together one cinnamon roll at a time. Like the Marsyas family’s picnics and beach days, the stakes are gentle but the feelings are big, and every choice leans toward tenderness over conflict.

If Linus’s journey—from rigid DICOMY official to someone who believes in people over policies—left you glowing, this novella offers the same balm. In A Psalm for the Wild-Built, a tea monk and a curious robot wander the world sharing comfort and asking, like Linus and Arthur do under the lighthouse sky, what it means to live well and do right by others. It’s warm, thoughtful, and hopeful—less about saving the world than about listening, brewing the perfect cup, and finding the courage to choose kindness.

If you were drawn to the quiet, hesitant connection between Linus and Arthur—full of glances over teacups and trust built through protecting the kids—this woodland folklore romance will hit the same sweet spot. Silver in the Wood pairs a gentle forest guardian with an inquisitive folklorist; like Arthur’s secret and Linus’s gradual opening up on Marsyas Island, their relationship deepens as truths are shared and sacrifices are made. It’s intimate, magical, and emotionally resonant without turning loud.

One joy of The House in the Cerulean Sea is watching Linus confront DICOMY’s dehumanizing rules and decide—especially after seeing Arthur defend Lucy, Sal, and the others—to lead with compassion. The Goblin Emperor channels that same moral clarity: Maia inherits a hostile court and, like Arthur insisting the children deserve safety and joy, chooses empathy over cruelty to transform the system from within. It’s a soothing, hopeful victory of decency, with the emotional payoff of earned respect and found allies.