At the elite Catenan Academy, a young fugitive uncovers layered mysteries and world-changing secrets in this new fantasy series by internationally bestselling author of The Licanius Trilogy, James Islington.   AUDI. VIDE. TACE. The Catenan Republic - the Hierarchy - may rule the world now, but they do not know everything. I tell them my name is Vis Telimus. I tell them I was orphaned after a tragic accident three years ago, and that good fortune alone has led to my acceptance into their most prestigious school. I tell them that once I graduate, I will gladly join the rest of civilised society in allowing my strength, my drive and my focus - what they call Will - to be leeched away and added to the power of those above me, as millions already do. As all must eventually do. I tell them that I belong, and they believe me. But the truth is that I have been sent to the Academy to find answers. To solve a murder. To search for an ancient weapon. To uncover secrets that may tear the Republic apart. And that I will never, ever cede my Will to the empire that executed my family. To survive, though, I will still have to rise through the Academy's ranks. I will have to smile, and make friends, and pretend to be one of them and  win.  Because if I cannot, then those who want to control me, who know my real name, will no longer have any use for me. And if the Hierarchy finds out who I truly am, they will kill me. “One of the best books I’ve ever read!” -- ―Petrik Leo "Fans of Pierce Brown's Red Rising will enjoy this book, but it’s darker, deeper, and takes unexpected paths worth traveling. Trust that the author will get you there in the end." -- ― Kirkus , *starred* “Ancient Roman politics, dark academia, and epic fantasy coalesce in this brilliant and gut-churning masterpiece from Islington… This is powerful storytelling at its finest, and the mind-blowing ending opens the series to so much more potential.” -- ― Library Journal, *starred* "Islington’s worldbuilding is exceptionally detailed and thoughtful, making suspending disbelief effortless. Perfectly balancing character development and plot momentum, this will have fantasy fans clamoring for more.” -- ― Publishers Weekly , *starred* “Readers that love watching a world slowly unfold with lots of political intrigue will thoroughly enjoy this book.” -- ―Booklist James Islington was born and raised in southern Victoria, Australia. An avid fantasy reader for many years, it was only when he read Brandon Sanderson's Mistborn series that he was finally inspired to write something of his own. He now lives with his wife and two children on the Mornington Peninsula in Victoria. He is the author of The Licanius Trilogy and The Will of the Many . Chapter I I I AM DANGLING, AND IT is only my father’s blood-slicked grip around my wrist that stops me from falling. He is on his stomach, stretched out over the rocky ledge. His muscles are corded. Sticky red covers his face, his arms, his clothes, everything I can see. Yet I know he can pull me up. I do everything I can not to struggle. I trust him to save me. He looks over my shoulder. Into the inky black. Into the darkness that is to come. “Courage,” he whispers. He pours heartbreak and hope into the word. He lets go. “I KNOW I’M ALWAYS TELLING you to think before you act,” says the craggy-faced man slouching across the board from me, “but for the game to progress, Vis, you do actually have to move a gods-damned stone.” I rip my preoccupied gaze from the cold silver that’s streaming through the sole barred window in the guardroom. Give my opponent my best irritated glare to cover the sickly swell of memory, then force my focus again to the polished white and red triangles between us. The pieces glint dully in the light of the low-burning lantern that sits on the shelf, barely illuminating our contest better than the early evening’s glow from outside. “You alright?” “Fine.” I see Hrolf’s bushy grey eyebrows twitch in the corner of my vision. “I’m fine , old man. Just thinking. Sappers haven’t got me yet.” No heat to the words. I know the way his faded brown eyes crinkle with concern is genuine. And I know he has to ask. I’ve been working here almost a year longer than him, so he’s wondering again whether my mind is losing its edge. Like his has been for a while, now. I ignore his worry and assess the Foundation board, calculating what the new red formation on the far side means. A feint, I realise immediately. I ignore it. Shift three of my white pieces in quick succession and ensure the win. Hrolf likes to boast about how he once defeated a Magnus Quartus, but against me, it’s never a fair match. Even before the Hierarchy—or the Catenan Republic, as I still have to remind myself to call them out loud—ruled the world, Foundation was widely considered the perfect tool for teaching abstract strategic thinking. My father ensured I was exposed to it young, often, and against the very be