Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from The Divine Shadow by Lyndsay Ely, which releases on November 10th 2026.

In the shattered ruins of the Cathedral of the Enduring Flame, Lys grapples with the fallout of the latest divine conflict. The Whisperer has returned. Nolan is enthralled. Tempestra is still alive…with Lys as their newest avatar, which was definitely not part of the plan.

As the goddess worms deeper into her mind, Lys is determined to keep control—if not for herself, then for Nolan who is in danger of succumbing to his own divine possession. But resisting Tempestra is only the beginning. Across the Devoted Lands, the faithful and heretics alike spill blood in the names of their gods.

To end the war before it truly begins, Lys chases long-forgotten secrets where the first god fell. But as she prepares for her final stand, one question erodes the defiance she’s held tight: Is she truly ready for a world without gods?

EXCERPT

Eight

What hasn’t burned yet is consumed as I sweep through the city, stone turning tarry black and charred timbers crumbling to bone-gray ash. The air becomes dust choked, a roiling storm cloud to accompany this fresh wave of destruction as the Goddess finishes the job Osiron began, the fury of the Flame turning anything that might have been salvaged (with some hard work and a hefty dose of optimism) into nothing more than cinders and memory.

Except I’ve got nothing to do with it. My body might be the ship, but Tempestra is the gale. I’ve got no other choice but to batten down and bail out as they steer us back to the entrance of the city, every step feeling as if it will punch down through the cobbled streets into the very earth itself, a trail of graves for each of my—their fallen children.

Nothing.

Tempestra . . . stop . . .

We felt NOTHING.

I’ve lost physical control, but I’ve got a front-row seat to our blazing rage. Our vexation. And—most interestingly—our fear. The snuffing of a singular Chosen here and there might have been missed. But the mass murder of so many? We should have felt it as it happened, holes tearing open in the canopy of our power. Instead, Osiron managed to obscure their attack.

Understandable how that might worry you, Mother, but is this really the best way to react?

The gathered crowd shrinks as we reappear, tiny things that plunge to the ground until every soul left in Osturan is prostrate before us, save for our Chosen. Fleeing was not an option for these people, not when the Flame has unleashed its inferno. To run would be to acknowledge their weakness, that they are barely worthy to be prey to the power of the divine. As we pause to look over these frail creatures, the vision of the cowed heretic crowd returns, overlaying, bleeding into the figures before us. Each and every one deserves to burn. To be consumed by the Flame and have the wind disperse their ashes into nothing. A price must be collected. Here. Now. Love and loyalty be damned. They are nothing, after all. Nothing compared to what was lost.

We take another step forward, wrath swelling us like a drawn breath. No one moves. The faces that stare are so overwhelmed at witnessing the true potency of their god that they have gone blank with resignation, their bodies frozen with the understanding that whether they live to pray another day or end up as a communal pile of unidentifiable cremains is entirely out of their control.

One hand rises . . .

Don’t you dare, Tempestra.

We go stiff. I summon another memory, of familiar figures dropping through broken ice into an unforgiving current. The remains of my village, destroyed by the Flame’s servants.

Heretics.

Exactly. Something these people are not. They did nothing to warrant this. Not to mention this tantrum is unbecoming of a goddess.

The hand remains hanging in the air.

So let’s take a minute to cool off, yes?

We do, which comes as a surprise to both of us. The fury of the Flame contracts slightly, the searing light dimming. Which leaves an opening for the sorrow to pour forth, chilled water thrown on a whitehot forge, shattering the ravaging desire that gripped only moments before. Tears escape from beneath my eyelids, their trails like a cold razor blade drawn down my burning cheeks.

My children . . . dead . . . dead and taken . . .

Yes, Mother, but incinerating innocents isn’t going to change either condition.

My control returns, relief spreading before I realize I’d been afraid it was gone forever. That Tempestra had toppled—even unintentionally—those careful partitions keeping me, me. But despite the deluge of violence, the dams have held. We open our eyes. The citizens of Osturan still stare with a glaze of wonderment as thick as the silence that has fallen. They are waiting. None seem to know what for—an explanation, a punishment, death by immolation—but each result is one that they’d accept as deserved.

We stand a little straighter, a lump forming in my throat. “My Chosen . . . are dead.”

No surprise: I’m sure that’s a conclusion most had already reached. Instead, the collective sense among the onlookers is something less definable, like the moment when one’s balance falters, not quite lost yet but unclear whether it can be regained . . .

“My Chosen are dead and the Whisperer is to blame.”

Okay then. That’s how we’re playing this. No more secrets. No more manipulating rumors and half truths. It’s almost a relief—to me, not anyone else, Tempestra included. The Goddess would have much preferred to keep Osiron’s return tightly under wraps, and even I have to admit that it would have been more convenient to catch up to the Whisperer and handle our disagreements quietly. But both of us know by now that ignoring the stink of a rotting fish won’t make it go away.

“They have come from the shadows,” the Goddess continues, using my voice to speak, “as they always have, their devious nature betraying their weakness . . . their fear of us. They slink forth like the lowest sort of assassin, targeting those that have done them no harm other than giving their love to me . . .”

Framing that picture a little creatively, aren’t you, Tempestra?

“. . . and having the revolting gall to desecrate my children’s remains.” The Flame swells once more, chasing away some of the growing, if still nervous, relief throughout the crowd, the act reminding them that their Goddess is more than a doting mother—they are a warrior, a force of nature, a leviathan of very existence. It reminds me as well, a swarm of memories enveloping what is Lys. The clash of metal against metal rings in recollection, air thick with the scents of sweat and copper and opened bowels. Bodies spread across endless fields, blood soaking every inch, cries of the dying still filling the air. The very earth trembling as a deity sputtered and winked out of existence, the resulting release of energy as unchecked as a hurricane. “The destruction of Osturan will not go unpunished. The Flame has burned throughout a thousand battlefields, leaving all challengers defeated. That has not changed. I have fought, I have been victorious. I have endured. We will see this cowardly challenger dead and their vicious heretics punished in ways never before seen within these lands. I am Tempestra-Lystrata, Goddess of the Devoted Lands. I am the Flame, and the Flame is eternal!”

Before we have even finished, the crowd explodes, their love surging forth with as much enthusiasm as their cries, flooding through us and washing away some of the marks inflicted by Osiron’s attacks. But as bracing as that is, Tempestra suddenly recedes. With a single beat of my heart, full autonomy returns, the Goddess shrouding themselves in gray sorrow, moving beneath the shadowed eaves of me once more.

I take a deep, gasping breath, as if I have been drowning and finally broken the surface. Which . . . what the fuck, Tempestra? Was that really necessary?

They’re dead . . .

I know, I know. You loved them, Mother, as much as you’re able to love any of your children. But, frankly, one of us should have expected this. It’s our fault we were taken in by the fact that Osiron traded for so long in small, calculated maneuvers that a sudden shift to this scale simply didn’t occur.

My Chosen children murdered again and again . . . lost . . .

And whose zealous regime is to blame for that, Tempestra?

Exhaustion hits suddenly, along with the knowledge that our childish exertion of energy was a coin poorly spent, better saved to pay for what is coming.

“All of you, go,” I say to the crowd. “Follow your fellow citizens and find somewhere safe.” No one moves. “What? Did you want to pack up some of the ashes to take with you? Go!” The command comes more forcefully this time, quickly followed by remorse for my sharp tongue. The people here have lost everything. They also have no idea how close I was to letting the Goddess’s anger be taken out on them… far too close. I soften. “There’s nothing left for you in Osturan, but I swear that the moment the Whisperer is dead again, what has been lost will be returned, as much as is in my power to do so. Go!”

The combination of a gentler touch and my generous promise gets them moving, standing shakily, drifting away with a reluctance to leave the warmth of their Goddess’s flame. But beneath it all—infused in stolen glances and the set of tight jaws—I sense something else: doubt. In the ability of the Flame, in the truth of its promises.

Despite our little demonstration, there’s no unspilling that blood now.

As the last of the crowd disappears into the distance, Morgan and Ysell and the others, abandoned back at the Arbiters’ hall, reach my side again. They aren’t doing any better of a job in hiding their insecurity than the citizens of Osturan did, and wait for me to give some order, set some tone. Instead, I go over to the nearest chunk of stone that will accommodate my weary backside and drop onto it, letting my head hang to my chest. I don’t even bother to try to listen in on the low mutterings that follow.

“Goddess . . .” Ysell is the first to break my vigil, her voice tight with urgency. “We need to return to Aerdis and its legions. It’s not too late for the Clerics of the Blood to handle this, send the lesser Orders out to contain the spread of what happened here before it reaches too far.”

“That’s idiotic,” Morgan blessedly cuts in, saying exactly what I was about to and sparing me from hurting Ysell’s feelings. I look up in time to catch Ysell’s offended frown, but she has nothing to counter with. “There’s no containing this,” Morgan continues. “There are too many witnesses to spin this slaughter as anything other than what it was.”

“Not to mention,” I mutter, “someone will notice eventually how few Arbiters are out and about.”

My Chosen stop arguing and look back at me and the piece of rubble I’ve made a temporary throne, tension gripping each and every one of them, even Reia and Owin, who were spared the puddle of disembodied eyes.

“You can’t remain out in the open,” Ysell presses. “Goddess, it’s not safe.”

“If this is where Osiron had wanted to start a fight, they would have been waiting, ready to throw down.” I can’t keep the exasperation out of my voice, patience far too much of an effort. Lys and Tempestra are tired. I recognize the feeling that’s crept its way into us, that one that follows loss, when a hole has opened up in you but neither time nor reflection has had a chance to start filling it in. The Goddess sulks even as something else bothers me even more: the fact that I have no fucking clue where Osiron is at this moment. The feeling of the new god, and the compass pointing north toward them, has not wavered at all. Was Nolan the true distraction, the bait meant to draw me away from the region so that Osiron could ensure their message of return would get out loud and clear? Or—a small flicker of hope sparks within me— has the new god already balked at being under someone else’s control? Even more optimistic: Has Nolan exercised some power over it, managed to break the new deity away from the Whisperer and driven them somewhere else?

But if that’s a possibility, then their purpose for moving north makes no sense. Why not return to Tempestra?

To me?

The only answer I have to any of those questions remains in that vague, pulsing sensation of their being, traveling farther and farther away with every minute we waste here.

Suddenly, the sun hangs low. Not low enough that we couldn’t make some distance from Osturan, but despite my impatience, I can’t bring myself to order us up and moving. My Chosen have exercised the patience I couldn’t while I was submerged in a sea of my own thoughts, Tempestra’s grief an anchor I couldn’t fight. The Potentiates have brought tea and food, warmed over a campfire they’ve built nearby. I accept the tea but wave the food away, not missing when Reia glances at Morgan, who nods before she actually scampers away with it.

“This is going to spread.” Morgan picks up that point as if it had never dropped. “And when it does, every heretic who’s been hiding out is going to worm their way to the surface, driven by the promise that their dead gods will return. The Whisperer’s spies have infiltrated who knows how many of our institutions. Ysell is right about returning to Aerdis, or Lumeris. We should fortify both internally and externally before one of them becomes the next target.”

“Osiron won’t strike the same way again.” I close my eyes. The air still reeks of burning everything, dry and astringent. “They chose Osturan because the Arbiters have been trying to flush out those very heretics, but also because it was small enough to take easily. The Whisperer wouldn’t be foolish enough to try for one of the larger cities. Whatever assistance they’ve mustered, their forces don’t have that level of strength.”

“But ours do,” Morgan insists.

“The Executrix is right.”

Lovely. My Bellator Prime and Executrix are teaming up.

“Let the legions sweep the land,” says Ysell, “before the next blow falls. We can comb every village, town, and city . . . chase down every hint of heresy and clear these rats out before they know what’s befallen them.”

“And how exactly”—I rub at the ache gathering in one  temple—“will you know who is a true heretic and who isn’t?” It’s a miracle I can say it with a straight face. As if that’s ever been a concern before, huh, Tempes tra? “At best, you will spread our forces thin and expend unknown amounts of resources to root out a handful of heretics that may not even be the ones we’re after. At worst—and I’d bet a jar of eyeballs that Osiron hopes we will react exactly as you just described—you’ll create a paranoid panic. Rivals will lob accusations against each other. Neighbors will offer up any vague half-remembered time where someone forgot to pray loud enough or didn’t greet them with ‘May the Flame warm you’ in order to make themselves appear above suspicion. Osiron has sown unmeasurable amounts of discord quietly. Don’t let them manage it in the open too, with you acting as their agent.” Ysell seems so chastised by this I actually feel a little bad.

So, what are we going to do? I see that question on all their faces.

But we don’t have an answer, do we, Tempestra? We can’t even fathom what other helpful tricks Osiron might have honed over the centuries, because we’ve been so confident in our supreme control for so long that we no longer know what pieces on this game board were there from the beginning and which ones Osiron has been sneaking in to mess with us. And since we don’t have a plan on how to deal with the Whisperer, I’m holding you to your godsdamned word.

We’re going after Nolan.

No argument comes, direct or otherwise.

Good.

“Ysell.” She snaps to attention. “You’re as fully informed of what happened here as anyone. Return to Aerdis and have the remaining Bellators ready the legions. For what, I don’t know yet, so don’t ask. It is

possible Osiron will try something else, so instruct them to send messages to every city and port and village big enough to have a name and tell them to keep their eyes open, weapons ready, and expect anything.” I stand to emphasize what I’ve said. “Get moving.” My words deepen. “And call all my remaining Chosen back to their Orders’ cities. Keep them together. Keep them safe.”

You had to add that little bit at the end, Tempestra, didn’t you? Fine. Do what you think will keep your Chosen from harm.

So long as we do everything possible for the one I want to save.

Ysell rides off. Night falls.

A chill laces the air, though I no longer feel it in the same way I did before. Or even how I did when we set out on this little adventure. The whole world is taking on a sharper edge the longer I remain avatar, as if the world is being reworked in glass. The tea I drank earlier poured down my throat like oil, and the night sounds of crickets and things rustling in the brush take on a strange melody. It is as if everything around me is shifting into the facets of a dream.

I refuse to dwell on these changes, though. Tempestra has kept to our bargain. I am still more Lys than not.

I hope.

A very human fatigue circles like a hungry vulture, but remains held at bay by a pressing restlessness, which finally drives me to my feet. I want to head to where the air doesn’t reek of cinders, but instead I find myself moving once again beneath the gates into the city, through its rubble and ruined streets. With everyone sent away, it’s even quieter within than without, not even insect song to add some ambiance. There is something lingering, though, sprinkled among the ash and coals, deeper than the cool veil of night. It’s not a feeling of Osiron, but I can’t put a name to it.

What else is here, Tempestra? Was this more than a message to the devoted, or even to you? We were always told that the Whisperer was the weakest of the gods. That’s why their siblings were able to destroy them so easily, and why they left no trace on the world. You believed that. We all believed that.

But that was then. This is now.

Eons have passed. Is there a possibility Osiron’s power has branched, evolved in such ways that they were able to obscure the massacre of the Arbiters? What else might they be capable of?

Without noticing, I’ve reached the stairs again. The eyeballs are gone. Morgan and Ysell insisted they be shown the respect that belonging to their brethren afforded them; what’s left now is a tiny pile of ash among larger piles of ash, already nearly indistinguishable. The urn was left where it rolled, colorful enamels catching the glow of the rising moon, a clean light that makes the soot-free stairs glow. There are no clouds, so the stars shine brightly above. I seek out one that shines brighter than the others, a fixed point that’s referred to as the Compass Star, as it always leads north.

North, where Nolan is.

What is he dealing with? I know what I’ve experienced, but what is it like for him, to be burdened with a new deity, one whose mind is still trying to form into something capable of comprehending our world? Has he maintained any sense of himself, like you’ve allowed for me, Mother? Or is it like being lost in a sea of your own body, buffeted about by the will of some chaotic, primeval creature? Does his forced baptism in blood protect him from the new entity at all?

I blink.

Morgan stands in front of me, a questioning expression on her face.

“Goddess?”

I look around, then up. The moon has moved well across the sky. “Yes . . .” How long have I been standing here? “What is it?”

“I . . .” She stares at me quizzically for a moment, as if waiting for me to say something. Then: “I woke and you were gone.”

I gather myself. Shrug. “Couldn’t resist one more sightseeing tour around Osturan.”

Unamused, her mouth thins, but blessedly she gives up on inquiries. Instead, she holds up some bread from dinner, topped with thin slivers of hard cheese. “You didn’t eat today.”

“I’m not hungry.” Not tired, not hungry, no longer subject to such insignificant human concerns. “You should still—”

“I said I’m not hungry.” It comes out fierce. I don’t mean it to, but it does.

Morgan shrinks a little, then frowns and draws herself up, taking a step closer and pushing the food toward me again. “You need to eat something, Goddess . . . Tempestra-Lystrata needs to eat something.”

She hits my name hard, with enough force that I obediently consider the bread again. I should be famished. Instead, it holds all the appeal of a handful of sand.

“You . . .” Morgan hesitates. “You’re thinner than you were.” Lys is, she means.

“Well, yeah,” I mutter. “There was a time in the not-so-distant past where feeding me was basically heresy.” It seems years ago that Caius kept me locked away and unfed for the whole trip from Cyprene to Lumeris, but it’s only been a couple of weeks. Add to that an infusion of divine being for whom food is only a necessary inconvenience and it’s not exactly shocking I’ve gone a bit bonier than before.

“Fine.” I reluctantly accept the offering. “But only because you used your Executrix voice.”

Morgan bristles. “I do not have an—”

“You absolutely have an Executrix voice. I bet you had it before you even imagined it was possible you’d become Executrix. You practiced it in your room in the Cloisters, didn’t you? Just in case.”

Morgan’s jaw flexes with the desire to fight back, to throw Lys’s teasing back at her with a good dose of rancor. But I’m tired enough to take pity on poor Morgan.

“Thank you.” I pick at what passes for a meal. It’s good, my sense of taste now as enhanced as the rest of me, the components taking on an unfamiliar intensity. It’s as if I can taste the specific grains that made the bread, the rain that watered that grain, the ocean the salt came from to brine the cheese. As if I can pick out the interlocking pieces of this land I’m bound to in the bounty that springs from it. It should be a transcendent experience. Instead, the act of chewing and swallowing brings no pleasure or satisfaction. It’s a performance, one that must be put on in order to assuage my devoted, and to serve certain parts of me.

The weakest parts.

Excerpted from THE DIVINE SHADOW by Lyndsay Ely. Copyright © 2026. Reprinted by permission of Saga Press at Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved.

The post Read An Excerpt From ‘The Divine Shadow’ by Lyndsay Ely appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Hi, Lyndsay! Can you tell our readers a bit about yourself?

Sure. I’m a writer, creative, and geek that has spent the majority of her existence in New England. I studied graphic design and art in college, failed to become a good enough illustrator to draw comics, and then pivoted to go all in on writing stories instead. These days I’ve settled in Boston, where I enjoy the many fine bookstores, breweries, thrift stores, and geeky conventions the area has to offer, and where I can say “wicked” without getting any strange looks. (Which, in my case, has nothing to do with growing up having Massachusetts nearby but rather from watching way too much Ninja Turtles as a kid.)

When did you first discover your love for writing and stories?

Long enough ago that I don’t want to admit it. Let’s just say it was in the days of having to watch TV shows when they actually aired and when phones still had cords. I was definitely that kid who loved being in the library and at the book fairs and went through books like the were potato chips. Then I discovered comics and it was all over. I spend many, many, MANY hours drawing characters (mostly X-Men knockoffs) and dreaming up the stories that went along with them.

Quick lightning round! Tell us:

• The first book you ever remember reading: With more words than pictures? Probably The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Or maybe a Nancy Drew book.
• The one that made you want to become an author: Also probably The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, though comic books played a big part too.
• The one that you can’t stop thinking about: Not quite one, but The Locked Tomb series. Dying for the next book.

Your latest novel, The Lost Reliquary, is out October 21^st! If you could only describe it in five words, what would they be?

Deicide attempt despite exasperating co-worker.

What can readers expect?

A classic quest fantasy with a main character (Lys) whose deep, dark secret is that she wants the last living goddess—who she’s bound to—dead and gone. When a failed assassination attempt outs that there’s one weapon that could make that fantasy a reality, Lys gets teamed up with the pious Nolan to recover it, a partnership that goes from kinda hating each other, to really hating each other, to maybe not hating each other at all. Also, they have to avoid some quasi-cannibalistic heretics.

Where did the inspiration for The Lost Reliquary come from?

A big part of it was shifting away from the third person, multi-POV fantasy book I’d just finished (currently trunked) to trying out a full-length first person POV book, which I’d never done. Also transitioning from YA into adult, a line I’d been toeing for a while. But mainly this story was conceived during a period of time where current events had me thinking a lot about what people believe and why, and how far they were willing to go for those beliefs. Eventually that led to forming a story around a world where gods could be seen and heard and felt by their devoted, but could also die.

Were there any moments or characters you really enjoyed writing or exploring?

I love a good side character. It’s a bit torturous to write characters with small parts that you really enjoy (especially when you kill them off, which I have a habit of doing). Fortunately, most of my favorite side characters get to return in TLR’s sequel, and one even got a reprieve from death. (Which is good, because they ended up playing a pretty significant role.)

I also really enjoyed writing the moments between my two main characters, Lys and Nolan, as they navigated how to approach their mission, as well as the results of their shared (fairly traumatic) upbringing. (Most especially when they begin to consider that the other’s position may have some worthwhile points, even if it clashes with their own perspective.)

Did you face any challenges whilst writing? How did you overcome them?

Two words: Day job. Writing is my side hustle, which means it takes place during evening and weekend hours. Which also means other stuff—chores, errands, socializing—often gets pushed off and pushed off and… well, let’s just say it’s a good thing I live alone with no one to witness how long it takes to empty the dishwasher sometimes. (Or fill it.)

What’s next for you?

I’m currently working on some IP projects, most notably for the Skibidi Toilet universe. (Not the fandom I’d ever have guessed I’d get invested in, but also an absolute palate cleanser of a project that has helped me do a bit of mental reset (while also allowing me to write tons of action scenes, which are my favorite.)

Also, the sequel of The Lost Reliquary is in progress and should hopefully be publishing sometime near the end of 2026.

Lastly, what books have you enjoyed reading this year? Are there any you’re looking forward to picking up?

You Weren’t Meant to Be Human by Andrew Joseph White crawled right inside me and has stayed there. I also loved Chuck Tingle’s Lucky Day, which is just as weird and enjoyable, though in a (somewhat) lighter way. The still TBR book that’s been staring at me with the most judgement is a copy of Chartreuse: The Elixir Vegetal and the Liqueur, which I spent forever trying to find an English version of, finally acquired in Paris months ago, but have only read a few pages of so far.

Will you be picking up The Lost Reliquary? Tell us in the comments below!

The post Q&A: Lyndsay Ely, Author of ‘The Lost Reliquary’ appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

From the release of the physical copy of Zenith written by BookTuber Sasha Alsberg, to a collection of short stories by some talented YA authors including Nicola Yoon and Kass Morgan. Then there’s a new novel adaption of Marvel and Hulu’s Runaways, plus new releases from Pierce Brown, Holly Black, Marie Lu, Maureen Johnson and Marissa Meyer.

Check out our picks and tell us if you will be reading one (or a few) of these great new releases!

The Hazel Wood by Melissa Albert | Goodreads

Seventeen-year-old Alice’s grandmother, the reclusive author of a cult-classic book of pitch-dark fairy tales, passes away alone on her estate, the Hazel Wood. Soon, Alice’s mother is taken away―by a figure who claims to come from the Hinterland, the cruel supernatural world where her grandmother’s stories are set. Alice’s only lead is the message her mother left behind: “Stay away from the Hazel Wood.”

Zenith by Sasha Alsberg and Lindsay Cummings | Goodreads

Androma Racella is known as the Bloody Baroness, a powerful mercenary within the Mirabel Galaxy leading her all-girl run starship. Meanwhile, a ruthless ruler waits in the shadows waiting to exact revenge for the destruction of her people and her plan will tear Mirabel in two.

A Taxonomy of Love by Rachael Allen | Goodreads

It’s . . . something at first sight when Spencer meets hope and they quickly become friends. He finally feels like he belongs after being outshone by his brother and teased because of his Tourette syndrome, but the label of “friend” gets messier as they grow up. Through a series of ups and downs, the two grow together and apart and Spencer learns things don’t always fit into boxes.

Runaways by Christopher Golden | Goodreads

Based on the popular Hulu television series and comic books, fans and first-time readers will enjoy this new take on the story. The novel also includes the first issue of the revived Runaways comic series written by Rainbow Rowell and with art by Kris Anka.

The Cruel Prince by Holly Black | Goodreads

Jude was seven when herself and her two sisters were stolen away to live in the treacherous High Court of Faerie. Ten years later, Jude wants to belong even though fey despise humans, especially Prince Cardan—the young and wicked son of the High King. To win a place at the Court, she must defy him–and face the consequences.

Batman: Nightwalker by Marie Lu | Goodreads

One by one, the city’s elites are being executed. Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne is turning eighteen and about to inherit his family’s fortune, not to mention the keys to Wayne Enterprises. But after a run-in with the police, he’s forced to do community service at Arkham Asylum. He meets Madeleine, a brilliant girl with ties to the Nightwalkers and she’s a mystery Bruce must unravel. But is he getting her to divulge her secrets, or is he feeding her the information she needs to bring Gotham City to its knees?

Markswoman by Rati Mehrotra | Goodreads

Kyra is the youngest Markswoman in the Order of Kali, a highly trained sisterhood of elite warriors armed with telepathic blades. After the death of her mentor, Kyra is forced to run and finds herself at the Order of Khur, an order composed of all men. With the help of Rustan, a young, disillusioned Marksman, Kyra must obtain proof of who killed her mentor.

Meet Cute: Some People Are Destined To Meet by Jennifer L. Armentrout + Various | Goodreads

Whether or not you believe in fate, or luck, or love at first sight, every romance has to start somewhere. Meet Cute is an anthology of original short stories featuring tales of “how they first met” from some of today’s most popular YA authors, including Nina LaCour, Nicola Yoon, Katharine McGee, Kass Morgan, and Dhonielle Clayton.

Everless by Sara Holland | Goodreads

In Sempera, time is currency—extracted from blood, bound to iron, and consumed to add time to one’s own lifespan. The rich have extended their lives for centuries and nobody resents them more than Jules Ember. Now with her father dying, she must go to them and earn more time for him, but going back brings danger and temptation catching her in a tangle of violent secrets.

Gunslinger Girl by Lyndsay Ely | Goodreads

Seventeen-year-old Serendipity “Pity” Jones inherited two things from her mother: a pair of six shooters and perfect aim. She’s been offered a life of fame and fortune in Cessation, a glittering city where lawlessness is a way of life. But the price she pays for her freedom may be too great….

Reign The Earth by A.C. Gaughen | Goodreads

Shalia is a proud daughter of the desert, but after years of war, her people are desperate for peace. Willing to trade her freedom, Shalia becomes Queen of the Bonelands. She discovers Calix, her husband, is determined to kill off the Elementae—mystical people who can control earth, wind, air, and fire. More unsettling is Shalia’s feelings for her husband’s brother and discovering her power over the earth—a power that could get her killed.

Truly Devious by Maureen Johnson | Goodreads

Ellingham Academy is a famous private school in Vermont for the brightest thinkers and inventors.  But after it opened, Albert Ellingham’s wife and daughter were kidnapped and it became one of the great unsolved crimes of American history. Now true-crime aficionado Stevie Bell begins her first year at the academy and aims to solve the cold case until death revisits Ellingham Academy.

Wires and Nerves, Vol 2: Gone Rogue by Marissa Meyer | Goodreads

Iko—an audacious android and best friend to the Lunar Queen Cinder—has been tasked with hunting down Alpha Lysander Steele, the leader of a rogue band of bioengineered wolf-soldiers who threaten to undo the tenuous peace agreement between Earth and Luna. Unless Cinder can reverse the mutations that were forced on them years before, Steele and his soldiers plan to satisfy their monstrous appetites with a massacre of the innocent people of Earth.

Iron Gold by Pierce Brown | Goodreads

A decade ago, Darrow was the hero of the revolution but the Rising only brought an endless war. Now he must risk everything he has fought for on one last desperate mission with other destinies entwining with Darrow’s—A young Red girl flees tragedy and gains a new life she could never have imagined. An ex-soldier broken by grief is forced to steal the most valuable thing in the galaxy—or pay with his life. And Lysander au Lune, the heir in exile to the sovereign, wanders the stars with his mentor, Cassius, haunted by the loss of the world that Darrow transformed, and dreaming of what will rise from its ashes.

Reign of the Fallen by Sarah Glenn Marsh | Goodreads

Odessa is one of Karthia’s master necromancers, catering to the kingdom’s ruling Dead. Whenever a noble dies, it’s Odessa’s job to raise them by retrieving their souls from the Deadlands. But the Dead must remain shrouded, or risk transforming into zombie-like monsters known as Shades. Shade attacks soon rise and it appears someone is intentionally creating and training them to attack.

Nice Try, Jane Sinner by Lianne Oelke | Goodreads

17-year-old Jane Sinner’s parents push her to attend a high school completion program after her expulsion, and she agrees as long as she gets to move out. She signs up for a student-run reality show to solve her housing problem. The show goes from web series to a local TV show with fans and she’ll use her growing fan base, and whatever Intro to Psychology can teach her, to prove to the world—or at least viewers of substandard TV—that she has what it takes to win.

Check out other books coming out in January 2018 on our Goodreads list!

The post January Book Releases: YA appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

Read on to discover our picks and tell us what book you are most excited to pick up in January 2018!

Everything Here is Beautiful by Mira T. Lee | Goodreads

Two sisters: Miranda, the older and responsible one, and Lucia, vibrant and headstrong. When Lucia starts to hear voices, it’s Miranda who must fight for the help her sister needs. Lucia tries to lead a normal life and moves her new family to Ecuador, but she cannot escape her own mental illness. Miranda must decide, again, whether or not to step in, but Lucia may not want to be saved.

Batman: Nightwalker by Marie Lu | Goodreads

One by one, the city’s elites are being executed. Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne is turning eighteen and about to inherit his family’s fortune, not to mention the keys to Wayne Enterprises. But after a run-in with the police, he’s forced to do community service at Arkham Asylum. He meets Madeleine, a brilliant girl with ties to the Nightwalkers and she’s a mystery Bruce must unravel. But is he getting her to divulge her secrets, or is he feeding her the information she needs to bring Gotham City to its knees?

The English Wife by Lauren Willig | Goodreads

Annabelle and Bayard Van Duyvil live a charmed life even though there are rumours she’s having an affair with the architect. But then Bayard is found dead with a knife in his chest on the night of their Twelfth Night Ball, Annabelle goes missing, presumed drowned, and the papers go mad. Janie, Bay’s sister, teams up with a reporter to uncover the truth and she learns more about her brother and his wife.

Iron Gold by Pierce Brown | Goodreads

A decade ago, Darrow was the hero of the revolution but the Rising only brought an endless war. Now he must risk everything he has fought for on one last desperate mission with other destinies entwining with Darrow’s—A young Red girl flees tragedy and gains a new life she could never have imagined. An ex-soldier broken by grief is forced to steal the most valuable thing in the galaxy—or pay with his life. And Lysander au Lune, the heir in exile to the sovereign, wanders the stars with his mentor, Cassius, haunted by the loss of the world that Darrow transformed, and dreaming of what will rise from its ashes.

Still Me by Jojo Moyes | Goodreads

Louisa Clark arrives in New York ready to start a new life, confident that she can embrace this new adventure and keep her relationship with Ambulance Sam alive across several thousand miles. Before she knows what’s happening, Lou is mixing in New York high society, where she meets Joshua Ryan, a man who brings with him a whisper of her past.

A Time of Dread by John Gwynne | Goodreads

The Ben-Elim, a fierce race of warrior-angels, burst into the Banished Lands over a hundred and thirty years ago in pursuit of their eternal enemy, the Kadoshim demon-horde. Now much of the Banished Lands is ruled by the Ben-Elim extending their influence and power as they swallow ancient kingdoms into the protective grasp of their ever-extending borders. But peace is fragile within the realm and the Kadoshim that remain are now amassing on the edges of the empire….

Gunslinger Girl by Lyndsay Ely | Goodreads

Seventeen-year-old Serendipity “Pity” Jones inherited two things from her mother: a pair of six shooters and perfect aim. She’s been offered a life of fame and fortune in Cessation, a glittering city where lawlessness is a way of life. But the price she pays for her freedom may be too great….

Click to read the first five chapters HERE

The Immortalists by Chloe Benjamin | Goodreads

If you were told the date of your death, how would it shape your present? In 1969 New York, word has spread of the arrival of a travelling psychic who claims to be able to tell anyone the day they will die. The Gold children—four adolescents on the cusp of self-awareness—sneak out to hear their fortunes and their prophecies will inform their next five decades.

Zack by Mons Kallentoft and Markus Lutteman | Goodreads

Zack Herry is the golden boy who has stumbled into a career in the Stockholm police force. At night, he hangs out at the clubs, partying with the people he should really be arresting. But when four Thai women from a massage parlor in Stockholm are found brutally executed and a fifth badly mutilated and dumped outside a nearby hospital, Zack must get his act together and try to figure out the motives behind the vicious murders, together with his partner, Deniz.

The Wolves of Winter by Tyrell Johnson | Goodreads

Lynn McBride has learned much since society collapsed in the face of nuclear war and the relentless spread of disease. As memories of her old life haunt her, she has been forced to forge ahead in the snow-covered Canadian Yukon, learning how to hunt and trap to survive. Shadows of the world before have found her tiny community—most prominently in the enigmatic figure of Jax, who sets in motion a chain of events that will force Lynn to fulfill a destiny she never imagined.

The Hazel Wood by Melissa Albert | Goodreads

Seventeen-year-old Alice and her mother have spent most of Alice’s life on the road, but when Alice’s grandmother, the reclusive author of a cult-classic book of pitch-dark fairy tales, dies alone on her estate, the Hazel Wood, Alice learns how bad her luck can really get: Her mother is stolen away―by a figure who claims to come from the Hinterland, the cruel supernatural world where her grandmother’s stories are set. Alice’s only lead is the message her mother left behind: “Stay away from the Hazel Wood.”

The Chalk Man by C.J. Tudor | Goodreads

In 1986, Eddie and his friends are just kids on the verge of adolescence and use little chalk stick figures to leave messages they can only understand. But then a mysterious chalk man leads them to a dismembered body. In 2016, Eddie gets a letter in the mail containing a single chalk stick figure. His friends receive the same message, and one of them turns up dead.

Check out other books coming out in January 2018!

The post January Book Releases appeared first on The Nerd Daily.