Forget 'Fourth Wing,' This Flawless Fantasy Masterpiece Deserves a Streaming TV Adaptation

Published Jul 25, 2026, 2:27 PM EDT Kelcie Mattson is a Senior Features author at Collider. Based in the Midwest, she also contributes Lists, reviews, and television recaps. A lifelong fan of niche sci-fi, epic fantasy, Gothic horror, elaborate action, and witty detective fiction, becoming a pop culture devotee was inevitable once the Disney Renaissance, Turner Classic Movies, BBC period dramas, and her local library piqued her imagination. Rarely seen without a book in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, Kelcie explores media history (especially older, foreign, and independent films) as much as possible. In her spare time, she enjoys video games, amateur photography, geeking out over music, and attending fan conventions with her Trekkie family. Fantasy television might be in a somewhat precarious state outside the Game of Thrones or The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power universe, but the romantasy book phenomenon continues to thrive. Granted, Ronald D. Moore's planned adaptation of Sarah J. Maas' A Court of Thorns and Roses series fell through, but that was before romantasy as we know it gained enough traction to become a multi-author pop culture juggernaut. Now, multiple adaptations are in active development, from Amazon MGM Studios snapping up Rebecca Yarros' Fourth Wing and Lauren Roberts' Powerless, to Netflix obtaining Callie Hart's Quicksilver in a seven-figure deal. The sub-genre fills a current hunger. If streamers tap into the right source material at the right time, overseen by the right creatives, then fans will flock to a TV interpretation. Few novels are more deserving of that right place, right time attention than The Folk of the Air. Although the trilogy-turned-quintet by the prolific author Holly Black is more fantasy-first with a strong love story narrative device than romance-driven, the bestselling 2018 series is a thrilling coming-of-age saga set within a relentlessly violent world of political intrigue and scheming power grabs, filled with raw psychological authenticity, barn-burner plots shocking enough to unhinge your jaw until it drops to the floor, and a masterclass in effective enemies-to-lovers that goes beyond appealing aesthetics. 'The Folk of the Air's Brutal Grit and Political Complexity Strengthen Its Romance Seventeen-year-old human Jude Duarte and her remaining family live in the faerie realm of Elfhame. When Jude and her twin were 10 years old, a ferocious fae warrior named Madoc slaughtered her parents in front of Jude's eyes. Madoc then raised the children as half-wards, half-physically comfortable hostages — technically protected by his status within the royal court, but still infamous for their mortal differences. Forced to live according to the rules of the fae's continual cruel games, always steeping in her rage, Jude conforms to Elfhame's specific violence to claim her vengeance, protect her sisters and foster brother, and survive the fallout of a bloody clash for the throne. The latter includes intense proximity to Cardan Greenbriar, the youngest prince in the line of succession and Jude's primary tormentor. A YA epic as unflinchingly adult as the category's golden age (The Hunger Games and Shadow and Bone make for the easiest tonal and superb-prose equivalents), Black returns the fae from a sultry trope to their folklore roots as incandescently attractive beings who don't obey common moral niceties. They are unknowable, fickle, and lethal, delighting in inflicting bloodthirsty tricks upon the humans they consider exploitable, weak playthings. Betrayals and treason run rampant; alliances are mired in ephemeral quicksand. Black's pervasive tension hits the ground running and keeps agonizingly increasing until Jude can barely steal a moment to breathe. That inherent ambiguity both drives and complicates her dynamic with the beautiful, elusive Cardan. Their reluctant attraction teeters along a superbly intoxicating knife-edge that encompasses desire, abhorrence, and every thorn in between both extremes. Black doesn’t employ emotional shortcuts to resolve her couple's conflict or sanitize its ferocity; the empathetic, credible intricacy of her character work matches her masterful political intrigue and worldbuilding step for step. She fastidiously demonstrates why both sides of her pairing lash out — no matter how skilled they are at playing the Machiavellian games of older immortals, these children are abuse survivors. As the titular Cruel Prince of the first book's title, Cardan must work for his redemption. He doesn't receive the luxury of automatic forgiveness because Jude understands the horrific contextual explanations for his behavior. Neither character can heal their broken parts — their defense mechanisms, their trauma responses — until they've looked inward and negotiated a fragile safe space where compromise doesn't negate accountability. It’s the ultimate slow-burn journey toward building a partnership from resentment, disdain, and obsessive yearning. Until that delirious payoff, they exchange enough vows of seething hatred and knives-pressed-to-throats energy to satiate fans — if not spoil them for similar romances — for a lifetime. 'The Folk of the Air's Jude Is a Heroine Worthy of the Screen Image via Daphne Press Nor does Black fail to craft Jude’s interiority into a narrative pillar. One of modern YA's greatest protagonists is a young woman shaped by unspeakable violence and surrounded by familial relationships as outstandingly fraught as any deceptive machination. All three Duarte sisters seek security and snatch up leftover scraps of empowerment in different ways, which swings the door wide to jealousy as much as tenderness; Jude oscillates between despising and admiring Madoc, the man responsible for their lives' horrors and the mentor whom her moral grayness takes after. Once Jude refuses to accept a state of continual victimization, she hones herself upon the whetstone of her fury into a cunning and proactive manipulator. She's willing to surpass the inhumanity of her monstrous enemies if doing so means control. Yet Jude's hurting heart always responds, however cautiously, to affection that's as broken as she is, and as sincere. Her flaws emerge from her humanized anguish. As for her identity's prevailing strengths, those flourish in tandem with her journey toward self-acceptance. Jude is selfless, ambitious, formidable, imperfect, and a perfect queen. Universal optioned the movie rights for The Cruel Prince the year before it was published. Nine years later, they haven't announced forward movement. Although Black's universe deserves the blockbuster visual treatment, condensing her lush creation into a two-hour film risks repeating a well-known loss: losing essential character beats, and therefore losing the series' magnificent teeth. An enthralling tale defined by labyrinthine suspense, consequences, exhilarating catharsis, and fantasy's best power couple deserves nothing except the best. Fantasy