The Strength of the Few (Hierarchy, #2)

by James Islington

I FEAR, MY FATHER ONCE TOLD me, is simply our realisation of a lack of control.

So the symbols correspond with multiverses which would be cool if i knew which was which

“I suppose the war is the easiest place to begin. It started thousands of years ago, against an enemy called the Concurrence. They were bent on enslaving everyone, and from what Veridius and I could tell, at one point they were winning.” His mouth twists. “So our side split the world into three near-identical copies. Res—where we’re from; Obiteum, which is here; and Luceum. Don’t ask me how,”

Multiverse lore I definitely won't forget in 5 minutes

“Physically the same, down to the last detail. But the nature of Will was what they were trying to limit. The three worlds were created because they wanted to diminish it, restrict how it could be used. Split its capabilities.” He presses on before I can ask any of my myriad new questions. “People called it the Rending. Afterward, the war continued, but the resistances on the three worlds began to have their own levels of success in the fight. Different capabilities with Will. Different choices. Everything diverged.”

Noted multi verse has different magic systems

“So the Concurrence somehow just… killed everyone?” “From everything I understand, yes. And they will do it again. And again.” He says it softly. Pauses to lend me a hand up, then glances over my shoulder. “They didn’t just win the war here, Vis. I think they won it everywhere.”

It's giving There Is No Antimemetics division

The grit that wormed its way inside my clothes while hiding sticks to my cooling sweat, every movement chafing.

The way that would be the end of it for me

“There is to be an interview before your induction as Sextus.”

Every time they say Sextus all I can think of is Palamedes

“My problem?” Livia doesn’t look at me. Her cheeks are flushed with anger. “My problem is that I don’t trust you. Not even slightly.” “Your brother did.”

I wish this would've existed before Fourth Wing because that's all I can think of

“Hail, Diago,” says my father.

i should've known

The needs of the many will always be loud.” He leans forward. Hooked nose inches from mine. “But in the end, it is only the strength of the few that matters.”