If you were drawn to Wirrun being called by ancestral powers to confront the creeping Ice, you’ll appreciate how Alison, Gwyn, and Roger become entangled with the Blodeuwedd myth when the owl-patterned dinner service awakens an old Welsh story. Like Wirrun’s journey with Dreaming beings, the valley’s spirit force here is palpable and perilous—ritual, place, and inheritance drive the haunting repetition of a legend that refuses to stay buried.

You enjoyed how Wirrun navigates a contemporary Australia threaded with ancestral spirits; here, city boy Simon encounters the Nargun, a stone spirit awakened on a remote farm. As in Wirrun’s stand against the Ice, the land bristles with ancient personalities—Potkoorok and other beings watch, warn, and resist. The clash between modern intrusion and an older, living Country echoes the same eerie, grounded wonder.

If Wirrun’s fight to protect Country from the encroaching Ice moved you, Kahu’s bond with the whales—and her struggle against Koro Apirana’s doubts—will resonate. The sea and its creatures answer her calling in pivotal scenes, just as ancestral forces answer Wirrun’s. The story’s emotional crest, when the whales come ashore and Kahu must act, mirrors that same reverence for place and responsibility.

If following Wirrun as he grows into his role—guided by old powers—to face the Ice was your hook, you’ll like Jared Martin discovering he’s bound up with Haisla trickster lore. As strange visitors and talking animals creep into his everyday life, Jared has to own an identity he didn’t ask for, much like Wirrun stepping into a calling that changes how he sees himself and his world.

If you liked how Wirrun meets unfathomable beings and counters the Ice without tidy spell-lists or rules, you’ll love the Hempstock women helping a boy face the invasive Ursula Monkton. The duck pond that’s an ocean, the hunger-birds, and the quiet rituals feel like the same kind of deep magic Wirrun encounters—ancient, intuitive, and bound to place rather than system.