The Will of the Many (Hierarchy, #1)

by James Islington

CHAIN YOUR ANGER IN THE dark, my mother used to tell me, and it will only thrive.

“Sytrecian. It’s more of an insult. The rough translation is someone who could ‘brighten a room with their absence, or dazzle it with their corpse.’ ”

“They say that young men know they will die, but only old men believe it.

There’s nothing to identify as bodies beneath it, nothing which could resemble human remains. It’s all just shredded flesh and blood. Mangled bones protruding through raw lumps of muscle and cartilage, draped across benches and ground, scattered randomly. An unendingly grotesque paste of death.

You fight the tyranny of the many, or you are one of them.”