If what gripped you in The Tombs of Atuan was Tenar-as-Arha moving through the Undertomb—counting steps in the dark, performing closed-circle rites to the Nameless Ones, and ultimately choosing to free Sparrowhawk—then Sabriel will land perfectly. Like Tenar, Sabriel moves through crypts and binding-places where names have power; she descends into Death with bells and charter marks much the way Tenar learns the boundaries of the Labyrinth’s dread. The story keeps an intimate focus on one young woman’s choices as she confronts necromancers and the Dead, echoing the tense, candlelit corridors and ritual constraints you loved.

If Tenar’s journey from the name "Arha" back to her own self—defying the priesthood of the Nameless Ones and the expectations laid upon her—was your favorite thread, you’ll likely love Vasya’s path in The Bear and the Nightingale. Vasya, like Tenar, is hemmed in by a strict religious community; as Father Konstantin’s fervor grows, she must decide whether to accept the role prepared for her or heed the older, wilder powers of her land. That quiet, internal pivot—much like Tenar’s choice in the dark when she brings food and light to the prisoner Sparrowhawk—drives Vasya toward a hard-won, authentic identity.

If the temple politics in The Tombs of Atuan—the Priestess of the Godking, Kossil’s jealous power, and the ominous "Nameless Ones" who demand fear—drew you in, The Raven Tower explores faith and authority with similar intensity. It follows Eolo amid a city whose ruler serves the Raven god, unraveling conspiracies within a priesthood and the very nature of divine power. Where Tenar learns that the Nameless Ones' might is as much story and fear as substance, Leckie’s gods speak to how belief shapes reality and how leaders twist devotion—echoing the treacherous, candlelit councils beneath Atuan.

If you loved how Tenar’s hostility toward Sparrowhawk—locking him in the Labyrinth, testing him, then risking everything to free him—slowly turns into trust and a bond that remakes them both, Uprooted offers that same emotional arc. Agnieszka and the Dragon begin with friction and disdain, but their shared work against the corrupt Wood deepens into a partnership built on courage and understanding. The moments of learning, missteps, and earned respect will echo the way Tenar and Ged navigate fear, power, and truth in the dark of the Tombs.

If what stayed with you from The Tombs of Atuan was being inside Tenar’s head—the silence of the ritual halls, her terror of Kossil, her private reckonings before she decides to lead Sparrowhawk to the light—then McKillip’s The Changeling Sea will resonate. Peri’s grief and anger meet sea-magic that is more felt than explained; the story turns on subtle shifts of empathy and choice rather than spectacle. Like Tenar’s inner crossing from "Eaten One" to Tenar, Peri’s transformations are psychological first, and all the more powerful for their quietness.