Brandon Sanderson is taking a long break from his epic fantasy series The Stormlight Archive to work on other projects including a new standalone Cosmere novel and an AppleTV adaptation of his Mistborn trilogy. But if you’re looking for a story that offers the same level of complex worldbuilding and dramatic action, we’ve got a taste of the first book in a new series that eight publishers were bidding for — with Feiwel eventually paying seven figures for what the imprint thinks is going to be a huge hit.
Adalyn Grace started her creative career as an intern working on The Legend of Korra before becoming a New York Times-bestselling YA author by penning the Belladonna series and the All the Stars and Teeth duology. The Wretched Divine, which will be released on Sept. 22, marks her adult fantasy debut and kicks off a new trilogy.
“To build this type of story in the way I wanted, the world needed to feel very large, with plenty of cultures, systems of belief, and of course, magic,” Grace tells Polygon in a statement. “I drew from my love of sweeping fantasy worlds with intricate world building, one of my favorites being Brandon Sanderson’s The Stormlight Archive.”
The series takes place in a world where angels are locked in an ancient war with demons representing the seven deadly sins.
“The idea of the seven deadly sins has fascinated me since I was a child and first fell in love with Fullmetal Alchemist,” Grace says. “There was so much I admired about that world, but Envy’s downfall and Greed as a character have long stayed with me. They’re monstrous beings who have done terrible things, and yet there’s still something painfully human beneath their sins. A possibility that, if given the chance, perhaps things could have worked out differently for them.”
Grace wanted to write a book that explored many of the same issues as the classic anime, including how people are shaped by faith, prejudice and fear. She also borrows from other hit anime, drawing inspiration for her demons from Jujutsu Kaisen and Demon Slayer, and emulating the high stakes and epic battles of Attack on Titan. This excerpt from chapter 7 introduces one of the book’s central characters, the angel Uriel, as he confronts a demon on the hunt.
The woman was a cunning creature.
She sauntered through the banquet hall, wearing a lustrous gown of crimson that trailed behind her like spilled wine. The air was thick with the scent of spiced meats and beeswax from the candles that lined the banquet tables. Amber light from iron chandeliers haloed the woman’s figure as she glided past the tables, illuminating the sly curve of her lips as she stalked her prey.
She had her sights set on one man in particular. Pausing near a long oak table laden with golden platters of roasted pheasant, sugared fruits, and wheels of aged cheese, she let her fingers trail lazily along the rim of a polished goblet, giggling shyly when she earned his attention from across the hall.
There was a hunger in the young noble’s eyes as he excused himself from his companions and crossed the floor to introduce himself.
The woman set her hand upon his arm as she laughed, the sound cloyingly sweet. Her lips brushed the shell of his ear as she spoke, testing the waters. The noble, dulled by wine and distracted by the tantalizing dip of her neckline, leaned closer. His easy demeanor belied the grim fate awaiting him, for he was blissfully unaware of the danger nestled within the small blond positioned intimately beside him.
It was fortunate that Yuriel had arrived on time.
The angel watched from the shadowed edges of the hall. His pale fingers traced the rim of his goblet, silver eyes as sharp as blades. The hall’s vaulted ceiling soared skyward, supported by carved wooden beams adorned with banners displaying noble crests he didn’t recognize.
All around him, the banquet thrived in its opulence. Women in embroidered silk kirtles and men in velvet doublets wandered the hall, their laughter mingling with the clatter of cutlery. In one corner, a small group gathered around a storyteller as he spun a tale of hidden treasure guarded by the vespers. Elsewhere, nobles debated a recent tourney, their voices rising as they recounted the feats of favored knights.
The soft strumming of lutes and the lilting notes of a harp threaded through it all, and revelers moved gracefully in time with the music as firelight danced across their gowns.
It was a magnificent gathering, and yet tension thrummed beneath it all as Yuri watched the demon toy with her prey.
His gaze never wavered from her. Not even as she led the noble to a shadowed alcove near the far hearth and kissed the man, coaxing his hand to stray lower along the embroidered patterns at her waist and down the length of her thigh.
The woman had chosen her mark well. Unbeknownst to him, it was not a coy blond stroking her fingers through his hair, but a demon practiced in disguise.
Had the noble been less lost to his passion, perhaps he’d have noticed he fondled a monster. For no matter how skilled a demon was at concealing their nature, there was always some trait that set them apart from the humans they mimicked.
For the most talented, it was often in the eyes, slit like a cat’s or glimmering with an unnatural sheen.
Lesser demons revealed themselves through skin tones of unnatural hues, or features like curled horns and scaled hides. The uglier the demon, the better a human’s chances of survival—those were always the weakest.
This particular demon’s tell was her hair. She kept all but the front pieces concealed beneath a shawl, but Yuri had tailed her long enough to catch glimpses of those strands—wisps that moved as though stirred by an unseen current, undulating like reeds in a stream. It was a subtle tell, but one that could easily expose her if she wasn’t careful. Not that it mattered for an angel. Yuriel could feel demons the way the earth feels the weight of an approaching storm. The air grew heavier near this woman, and there was a prickling sensation that crawled across his skin.
There was the miasma, too. The oily darkness that clung to demons like a second skin, visible only to the angels and their bonded.
It had taken years to tune his body’s instincts into tools of the hunt. Now this awareness was as familiar as the weight of his blade. He could track a demon in a crowded room without ever turning his head, feeling their malice like a ripple in calm water and knowing the exact moment when that ripple became a wave.
And as the man fell further into the demon’s trap, Yuri felt the wave crash.
He shifted beneath the heavy folds of his cloak, the hidden quiver pressing cold and insistent against the small of his back. Ideally, he would have confronted her in the shadows, far from the splendor of the banquet and away from human eyes. But the demon was growing bolder, and there was little time.
In the corner, half-swallowed by shadows and surrounded by nobles too distracted by wine and merriment, the demon’s hand skimmed along the inner flesh of the man’s wrist. A single nail, sharp and gleaming, traced a line until blood welled up, bright as rubies against his brown skin. The man tried to jerk his hand back, but the demon held tight.
Yuri knew what came next. She would reveal what she was and offer herself to him in trade. She would give the man the chance to form a willing bond. If he didn’t, she’d likely spirit him away until she was able to change his mind through whatever means necessary.
Yuri wouldn’t give her that chance.
He nocked an arrow, adjusting the light around him to keep his movements hidden. He exhaled slowly, counting his heartbeats as he waited for a swirl of revelers to part. For the noble to try to push himself away, and for the demon to tilt her head just enough . . .
He let the arrow fly.
The demon’s head snapped toward him a second before the arrow struck true. Her glamour shattered like glass, revealing iridescent lilac skin and horns that curled from her brow.
A lustborn.
Starvation gleamed in her bloodshot eyes, and Yuri despised the pang of pity he felt. There was always a moment right before he loosed his bow where the angel shut his eyes. He told himself that it was their single chance of escape; that although he’d readied the attack and aimed true, a demon would still make it out alive if they were meant to.
But none ever had, and this demon was no exception.
Yuri unfurled his wings with a burst of blinding light, bathing the hall with Glory. The revelers collapsed like marionettes with severed strings, their gowns and tunics pooling around them in vibrant puddles. The lute died mid-note, clattering to the floor as its musician crumpled atop it.
Yuri could have dimmed Glory. He could have allowed the humans to see him. But he preferred it this way. It was better that these people remember nothing.
He crossed the floor with measured strides, the echo of his boots the only sound in the silent hall. The demon writhed, tears welling in her eyes as she registered her fate a second before the arrow in her chest flashed silver and Glory took hold.
Ichor seeped from the wound in her chest like ink bleeding into parchment. Yuri pulled the demon away from the noble, careful to keep the spreading stain from soaking into the man’s fine clothing. It was better that the man sleep soundly tonight, never knowing how close he’d come to death.
The demon’s body was as light as ash as he gathered her into his arms and slipped out of the tavern into the cool night. He took to the sky, wings cutting through the moonlight as the castle shrank beneath him.
It didn’t take long to find a barren stretch of land near the forest’s edge. Only then did he set down the demon’s body and ease the arrow from her chest. Even without Glory, the shot was fatal. The arrow had struck clean through the heart.
The lustborn stared up at the sky, unblinking. Yuri crouched beside her, his hand hovering over her beautiful hide. It was soft beneath his fingers, leaving the faintest shimmer where he touched. Greedborn scales made the finest armor, but it was the lustborn whose hides were sought by nobility. Their skins were fashioned into lustrous capes and garish cloaks paraded through courts across the Greater Realm.
This one would have fetched a high price, yet when Yuri looked down at the demon, all he could see was the fear in her eyes as he’d drawn his bow.
Who was she before the darkness took her? Was her soul always marked, or had some cruel twist of fate sent her down a path she hadn’t meant to walk?
“I’m sorry this happened to you.” He smoothed her eyelids shut with a gentle sweep of his fingers. “I would change it if I could.”
Such thoughts were treacherous for an angel whose purpose was to rid the world of these creatures. And yet, how was he to cleanse a world where demons only grew in number? How much blood needed to spill before he could finally breathe easy?
It was weakness to think this way. Perhaps even a sin. But Yuri could not bring himself to see only a monster. He couldn’t ignore this demon’s humanity by giving her body over to be harvested for its parts.
Instead of leaving her for scavengers, he found a shovel from a nearby farm and dug a grave beneath the waning moon. Gently, he laid the demon to rest, setting wildflowers upon her chest before he covered her body with the soil. He took a knee beside her when he was done, resting a hand atop the mound of her makeshift grave.
“May the Light be with you,” he prayed, “and may your soul find peace, wherever it has wandered.”
If his commander asked, Yuri would say the demon’s flesh was too torn in battle. He’d say that she was of little use to them, and that he’d left her as fodder for the crows.
Because Yuri knew the price of truth among angels. He knew the dangers of letting them believe his mind and heart were weak.
And those were mistakes he would never make again.
