Whenever his occupation as a full-time dad of three permits, Luke is also full-time storyteller whose dreams include learning the ways of the Force, becoming a sentient robot, and maybe even one day growing up. Also, lots of zombies… Don't ask.

(Oh, and that "growing up" bit? That was a lie.)

Anyway. After studying engineering science at Penn State and neuroengineering at Drexel, Luke finally decided to throw in the towel on building a working Iron Man suit and opted instead to simply make things up and write them down. Boy, is he having more fun now.

When he's not holed up in his writing cave trying to string words together, he can often be found juggling children, powerlifting, and attempting to fit in some much-needed reading time. Sometimes all at once.

But you know what? That's enough about Luke. He's really not that interesting. Still, if you'd like to learn more, you could do worse than to check out him and his books at lukemitchellbooks.com

Shadows of Divinity by Luke Mitchell

They murdered his parents and called it justice. Now Haldin Raish will call it war.

For generations, the Sanctum and its Legion have ruled the planet Enochia with unshakable authority, preaching faith and loyalty above all else. Haldin was born to that life—son of a decorated Captain, heir to a legacy of discipline and service. His future is set: train, serve, obey.

But when a condemned heretic dies proclaiming that the Legion is rotten at its core—and that alien infiltrators walk among them—Haldin begins to see cracks in the shining towers of Divinity. Cracks that shatter when his father's questions bring an unstoppable monster wearing the High General's face to murder his parents.

Alone and hunted by the red-eyed thing that killed them, Haldin is saved by Carlisle—a dangerous stranger with telekinetic powers, inhuman speed, and a taste for violence. Gifts Carlisle swears Haldin can learn, too—if he survives the training. Haldin calls him mad. But as he's thrust into a shadow world of secrets, betrayals, and impossible truths, one thing becomes inescapably clear:

To survive, Haldin must question everything he's ever believed—even if it means becoming the apostate he once swore to destroy.

CURATOR'S NOTE

I admire Luke for his ability to write stories with non-stop action, thrilling twists, and a deft blend of epic heroism and gritty sci-fi. In this first novel of a stunning trilogy, alien infiltrators wear human faces and hold positions of power. When Haldin discovers the truth, he's rescued by a stranger with telekinetic powers—and learns that if he wants to survive, he'll have to wield them too. Beloved by fans of Red Rising and Skyward. – M.G. Herron

 

REVIEWS

  • "You will read into the night. It's just so difficult to stop!"

    – Reader review

  • "This trilogy is up there with the best."

    – Reader review

  • "Such a ridiculously fun ride."

    – Reader review
 

BOOK PREVIEW

Excerpt

"Come on, kid. I swear we won't bite."

Somehow, my heart managed to beat faster. They could probably hear the damn thing from twenty feet away.

Kid. They couldn't see me yet, but he'd said kid, which meant one of two things. Either some strangers had seen me running and decided to follow me into the alleyway, or these people knew exactly who they were looking for—and, somehow, had known exactly where to find me.

Either way, it wasn't good. But there wasn't really anything to be gained by trying to stay hidden behind the dumpster any longer. So I leaned cautiously out to see what I was up against.

For a second, I was terrified I'd be greeted by more glowing red eyes. Instead, I saw cream-colored armor and four disconcertingly featureless faceplates of pale gold. Sanctum Guard, I realized with a jolt. But Sanctum Guard didn't idly stroll the streets unless they were accompanying a cleric.

And the fifth man was clearly not a cleric.

He wore plain brown pants and a dull green jacket, his appearance fairly unremarkable but for the odd black circlet around his neck and the haughty smirk hanging across his mouth—a smirk that instantly identified him in my mind as the man who'd spoken.

I resisted the urge to rush out and start snapping my credentials and crying for help. In theory, the four Sanctum Guard were sworn to uphold the laws of the Sanctum and protect all its citizens. But something wasn't adding up.

"Well there he is," the guy in the green jacket said, still smirking as he splayed his hands entirely too casually. "Alpha be praised, right boys?"

Something about the guy immediately made me want to punch the smirk off his face. But that wasn't the only reason my insides were crawling. Why were the Sanctum Guard out looking for me? And, more importantly, why in demons' depths were they looking to Goodfellow Smirks like he was their commanding officer?

Could Kublich have sent him? He looked like a civilian.

Demons below, was there anyone I could trust right now?

At least none of their rifles were pointed at me. Yet.

"What do you want?" I said, stepping halfway out from the cover of the dumpster.

"Sanctuary reported a tyro abducted on base," Smirks said, taking a few steps forward, hands still held at his sides in a nonthreatening gesture. "One Haldin Raish. Some kind of home invasion."

I watched his face, searching for any hint of deception.

"You know the drill from there," he continued. "Teams were dispatched to find you and bring you home."

"I do know the drill," I said, nodding slowly. "Which is why I'm wondering who the scud you are to be leading a fireteam of Sanctum Guard."

That damn smirk didn't waver as he tapped a few commands on his palmlight and held it up for my inspection. "Undercover patrol," he said, explaining the credentials that were too far away for me to actually make out on the small display. "Called for assistance when I spotted you and it looked like you were still running from someone. Wasn't sure if we'd be needing the backup."

He took another step. I tensed to run.

"Look," he said slowly, almost gently, "I get why you'd be shaken up after getting nabbed, kid, but you're safe now."

He continued closer, moving slowly, like he was afraid each movement was liable to send me flitting for the countryside. That fear wasn't too far off the mark. Especially seeing as I didn't trust a single word coming out of his ever-smirking mouth. All I had left to trust were my own instincts. And right now, they were telling me to get away from these men.

"You know what?" I held a hand up for space and inched out from cover, away from Smirks and the four soldiers. "You're right. I'm safe. I got away from them myself, and I appreciate your, uh, concern, but I can get home myself too."

"You know we can't let you do that, kid," Smirks said. "I have superiors too. I can't just report that we found you, said all is right, and left you to fend for yourself in the streets."

"How about this?" I said, still inching backward, mind turning furiously for a plan. "How about you call my father, Captain Martin Raish, and tell him you've found me. He'll send a skimmer for me."

The words burned in my throat.

Smirks turned that over for a few seconds. If he was putting on an act, it was a good one. I actually started to think that maybe he was telling the truth—that maybe these men were simply out looking for an abducted tyro and had no idea what had really happened.

Then something shifted in Smirks' expression, and he rolled his eyes, dropping all pretenses. "Okay, kid. Let's do it the hard way, then."

I turned and ran, angling behind the second dumpster for at least a moment's cover from the four Sanctum Guard rifles at my back. Would they use them?

I didn't make it far enough to find out.

My legs went rigid as boards without warning. My momentum carried me on, toppling face-first toward the pavement. I reached out to catch myself. Or tried to, only to find my arms were likewise paralyzed. Wild panic gripped at my chest, overruled a second later by lancing pain as I crashed into the pavement like a statue of flesh and nerve endings. My arms and face took the worst of it, but there was plenty of pain to go around.

"Grab him," Smirks said somewhere behind me. "Hurry it up."

I fought to get my hands under me, to keep moving, but nothing happened. Panic returned, swirling in with the pain and yielding fearful anger as I tried again and again to move limbs that were suddenly beyond my control. Boot steps approached from behind. I tried to thrash, tried to cry out.

It was maddening.