If the way Sweeney Cassidy is drawn from a D.C. campus into secret rites and the reawakening of a moon goddess gripped you, you'll love how American Gods drags Shadow into Mr. Wednesday’s covert war between old deities and new. The roadside carnivals, backroom bargains, and small-town sacrifices echo the hidden liturgies and goddess cults you loved, while figures like Easter and the myth-drenched House on the Rock give that same electric feeling of old powers walking among us.

If the blood-soaked ceremonies and corrosive power of the moon goddess—and the shadowy order pulling strings in Washington—hooked you, The Library at Mount Char pushes that darkness even further. Carolyn and her fellow "librarians" inherit godlike catalogs from their Father—war, languages of beasts, resurrection—and turn them on each other in schemes as ruthless as any rite Sweeney witnesses. It’s that same intoxicating mix of secrecy, taboo knowledge, and ritual power with catastrophic consequences.

If you were drawn to the fierce feminine power in Waking the Moon—the way a young woman’s allegiance to older, wilder forces clashes with controlling institutions—Vasya’s fight will resonate. In The Bear and the Nightingale, Vasya protects household spirits and bargains with Morozko even as a zealous priest tries to shame and silence her, mirroring the push-pull Sweeney feels between the goddess’s call and the male order that wants her contained.

If what lingered was the battle between ecstatic devotion and an entrenched religious order—the goddess’s revelations against a secretive brotherhood—The Sparrow channels that tension through a different lens. Jesuit linguist Emilio Sandoz journeys to an alien world and returns shattered, forcing church authorities to reckon with the cost of encountering the sacred. Like Sweeney facing a divine presence and the men who would harness it, Sandoz struggles with belief, guilt, and the institutions built to manage transcendence.

If the intimate, haunted intensity of Sweeney’s college circle—and the way the moon goddess seeps into dreams, bodies, and loyalties—captivated you, White Is for Witching offers that same unnerving closeness. Miranda Silver’s ravenous illness, the sentient house that speaks, and the family’s women tangled in an old curse create a psychological labyrinth where the supernatural is inseparable from identity. It’s a similarly intimate descent into power, possession, and the stories we inherit.