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James IslingtonA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Summary
Background
Chapter Summaries & Analyses
Character Analysis
Themes
Symbols & Motifs
Important Quotes
Essay Topics
Tools
“All of your drive, your focus, your mental and physical energy, is funnelled away by these pale stone beds to be received by some distant, particularly favored Septimus.
In my eyes, death would be a preferable fate.”
Part of the book’s early world-building exposition, this passage defines Will as a physical thing that can be taken from one person and given to another and explains the technology of a Sapper as a form of punishment for prisoners. Vis makes his disgust with the system clear, establishing his character early on in the novel.
“My mother was a scholar, fluent in three languages herself. And I was groomed by both them and my tutors for fourteen years to be a diplomat, to support my sister in her eventual rule by travelling to other nations.”
The narrative divulges details about Vis’s life in small pieces, allowing the reader to build an image of him over time. Though the reader does not yet know his precise history, this passage hints at his Royal upbringing while also establishing his skill with languages, a detail that becomes increasingly important as the story progresses. The gradual revelations about Vis build mystery and suspense and also promote a sense of verisimilitude.
“Chain your anger in the dark, my mother used to tell me, and it will only thrive. I never really understood what she meant, growing up. […] When I had to swallow rage in every reply and pretend to agree with their excuses for their slavery, my slavery, just to survive. Then I understood.”
Vis considers his mother’s warning that swallowing one’s anger and keeping it buried only makes it stronger and more difficult to manage over time. He does not understand what she means until he nearly beats the Sextus to death in the fighting ring. Vis’s anger is a defining character trait and his biggest weakness in the novel. This passage and its context is part of the narrative’s focus on personal growth and maturity.
“I once heard my father describe the Anguis as children throwing a tantrum, but I never believed it until I witnessed the aftermath of one of their attacks on a small northern Tensian village. Octavii crippled and unable to work, a dead Septimus with a weeping family. Homes burned, valuables looted, and stores for the winter stolen.”
Though Vis and the Anguis share a common enemy, their goals and methods differ significantly, as Vis does not approve of their use of violence against innocent bystanders. The Anguis (specifically Relucia as their representative), are major antagonists of the novel. These differences of perspective and method are a part of the novel’s ethical exploration.
“He gives a vaguely sorrowful smile, still gazing out into the distance. ‘They say that young men know they will die, but only old men believe it. For some reason, I don’t think that’s true of you, Vis. I hope it’s not.’”
Ulciscor demands that Vis verbally acknowledge the risk of danger and death he faces if he accepts the deal. This is the last time Ulciscor gives Vis the option to back out: After this moment Ulciscor’s demands become ruthless. His lament that young men do not understand the inevitability of death is a rare moment of regret that does not appear again. It can also be read as a veiled threat or warning, which speaks to his character’s duplicity.
“It’s terrifying. Terrifying. This is my enemy. These are the people who want me dead. The Hierarchy’s shadow lies over all, and I’ve never considered myself blind to their power, but this is something else. […] Sometimes I believe my resistance means something. Sometimes my anger keeps me warm as I tell myself that somehow, one day, I might figure out how to repay the pain and loss I owe to Caten. It’s hard, when the lies that let you sleep are so cruelly laid bare.”
Vis sees Caten, the capital city of the Republic, for the first time and is horrified by its size, power, and decadence. This forces him to confront his deluded vision of revenge against such a vast enemy. He briefly gives way to hopelessness before rallying his mental fortitude for the struggles ahead. This passage therefore builds the narrative’s presentation of Vis’s resilience.
“Stronger Together. It’s the great lie of the Hierarchy, proclaimed generation after generation by an ever-growing mob in thrall to the concept. Part of me understands why. There’s a power to the phrase, an allure. It promises inclusion. Protection. Comradery. Common purpose. Belonging.
But you never have to look far to see its hypocrisy laid bare.”
Vis reflects on the Republic’s favorite slogan. Unlike others, Vis is painfully aware that this vision of community and safety is a facade, beneath which lies oppression and treachery. Vis’s unusual attitude towards the slogan is a sign of his exceptionalism as the novel’s hero.
“‘And I do.’ The admission snaps out rawer than I intend, almost a snarl. I bring myself back. Calm. ‘But I can hate without it coming to violence.’
‘Hate is its own violence, my prince. Your only choice is whether to let it hurt them, or you.’”
Vis and Estevan stand on opposite sides of a moral dilemma. Estevan believes that violence is not only necessary but justified in a fight against oppression, whereas Vis insists there must be a non-violent solution. Estevan instead offers this aphorism, arguing that holding hate in his heart is still violence, if only against himself.
“‘You fight the tyranny of the many, or you are one of them.’ He hangs his head again. Tired. ‘Silence is a statement, Diago. Inaction picks a side. And when those lead to personal benefit, they are complicity.’
It’s a strangely melancholic statement, delivered without malice. I still feel its accusation.”
Estevan’s aphorisms provide one of the major strands of the novel. He argues that anyone who does not actively resist an oppressive power, even in the name of neutrality or peace, is siding with the oppressor and is inherently complicit in that oppression. His certainty is one of the philosophies that Vis, and the reader, must contemplate.
“‘A fair system only works if there’s an unbiased means of assessing merit. When there is no pride or selfishness involved.’ He gives a soft snort, shaking his head. ‘Which means that fair systems cannot exist where people are involved.’”
Callidus argues that the Republic, and therefore the Academy, are not fair systems because they are built on selfishness. His musings ironically echo a lecture Vis’s father gave him in the past. Both Callidus and Vis’s father seem to agree that the Republic’s government and social structure is built on a foundation of greed. This passage is an example of Callidus’s role as a cynical misanthrope.
“I catch a glimpse of the man to my right. His eyelids flutter open. There’s nothing but bloodied sockets beneath.
Cold fear claws at my chest. I stare at the body, frozen. It stares back. Unmoving. Ebony blade jutting through its chest.
‘Obiteum is lost. Do not open the gate. Synchronous is death…’
Its lips are moving.
I stumble back, almost fall. My gaze goes to the body in the next cavity. It’s watching me with an eyeless gaze, too. And the next. And the next. All whispering.”
Vis’s first foray into the ruins provides several clues to the mystery, such as the missing eyes just like Lanistia’s, while also expertly invoking feelings of horror in Vis and the reader. Vis’s experience in the ruins is terrifying and visceral, and increases the tension of the narrative. This passage is an example of Islington’s use of short statement-paragraphs, emphasizing the narrative suspense.
“‘You want to remove the Princeps? The senators? You’ll just become them, sooner or later. If all you’re trying to do is change who’s in control, then you don’t really want to change anything.’ I finish in a forceful, low growl. Letting her hear my disgust.”
Vis criticizes the Anguis’s plans, echoing Callidus’s argument that the system is corrupted by its people. He believes that the Anguis are in denial about the inherent flaws of the system, and he predicts that they will be corrupted just like their current oppressors. This passage connects to the theme of Greed and the Corruptibility of Governance.
“My mind races as I ascend. Was this what happened to Caeror? Did he try to run the Labyrinth and get killed by those…things? I don’t even know what I’m reporting to Ulciscor. I understand that the maze is a test, now. A means of getting to a gate on the other side, which leads to Obiteum and Luceum. Beyond that, though…I don’t even know where Obiteum and Luceum are. Or what synchronism is, or the Rending, or the commandment of isolation.”
As with Vis’s first trip to the ruins, his second trip is filled with horror and with confusing clues that seem to create more questions rather than answers. This passage neatly summarizes what Vis does and does not know, thus helping the reader keep track of the clues provided so far and inviting them to theorize about what is to come.
“I don’t give him a chance to recover. I’m too angry for anything else. Angry that I’m having to do this. Angry that I’ve been put in this position. People like Ianix and Dultatis are the epitome of the Hierarchy. They’ve taken everything from me, and yet they want more. They always try to take more.”
In Vis’s duel with Ianix, he again loses control of his rage. All the anger he has built up over time, the suffering and loss he has endured, and the injustice he faces, even in the relatively low-stakes arena of a school, explode into violence, just as his mother, Lanistia, and even Estevan, have predicted, and he beats Ianix unconscious.
“‘[F]or the past four Academy cycles, at least a couple of Thirds and Fourths have died. Every cycle.’ […] The deaths happened during the Iudicium, away from most of them. Some of those who probably know seem to have gotten preferential placement within Religion. And everyone has a writ of Silencium attached to them anyway. Breaking that would mean risking a Sapper. […] From those same four cycles, another ten graduates from Class Three have since vanished from their pyramids. Presumed dead. They were all in positions of power, but nobody seems to have done more than give their disappearances a cursory glance.”
Callidus shows his trust and loyalty to Vis by revealing information he stole from his father. This information contains vital clues to Veridius and Religion’s conspiracy, though neither of them can yet guess what they mean, part of the novel’s building of mystery. The deaths become clear during the Iudicium, when Vis finds Belli’s body.
“‘They ask something small of you. A thing you would prefer not to do, but is not so terrible. You think you are working your way up, but in fact they are changing you. Moulding you into what they think you should be, one compromise at a time.’ He says it simply, but there’s a rock-hard belief beneath the words. ‘I am not suggesting you should have ignored what Scitus said. I am just saying that in this place…each man has to find his line. Has to find it ahead of time, and be resolved never to cross it.’”
Eidhin reflects on the dangers of conforming, even for the sake of survival, and argues that they must each set a line over which they will not cross, even at the cost of their lives, which is his personal view of resistance. Vis assures Eidhin that he knows his line, symbolized by the pull of the scars on his back.
“I dreamed of going home so often, that first year after the Hierarchy came. Sometimes I even thought I was home. I stayed near the ocean because I couldn’t sleep without the lapping of the waves. I kept southward. Sometimes going for weeks without seeing anyone. But I would slumber on the beach, or in a forest nearby, and I would wake to the smell of salt and the hissing slither of water on sand and I would, just for a moment, think I was there again.”
Vis muses as he returns home to Suus with Indol and the other Third students. He reflects on the trauma of his loss and the first year he spent traveling the coast, unable to leave the ocean. This moment offers new depth of emotion to his character and invites the empathy of the reader.
“I can’t help but drink it in. This is what I’ve been waiting to see, have been desperate to see, since I arrived. Menendo will get in trouble for this, but he doesn’t care. He hasn’t forgotten my family. He hasn’t forgotten Suus. There’s a lump in my throat at the realisation. […] For the first time since we got here, I feel just a little bit like I’m home.”
Vis is reinvigorated by witnessing the tavern keeper, Menendo, refuse service to the Catenans on Suus. While the others are horrified and infuriated, particularly Indol who threatens to complain to his father, Vis gathers strength and hope from this show of resistance.
“‘Well. Violence is no answer to grief, Your Highness, but if you give the word, I’ll find a way to show him justice.’ Fadrique was always a soft-spoken, placid man, but there’s steel in his offer.”
Vis is touched by the fact that Fadrique, a non-violent man, would offer to exact revenge on the main Catenan responsible for Suus’s fall if Vis wishes it. This is a display of loyalty and strength that Vis desperately needs. However, just as important is Fadrique’s declaration that his grief does not justify violence, in direct contrast with Estevan’s beliefs. This passage is one of the tests of Vis’s moral caliber.
“I want you to understand that no country’s governance is perfect. Anyone who looks at a system of people and thinks the system is the problem, is a fool. But I also want you to understand that the Hierarchy’s is far more insidious. Because it’s not imperilled by a flaw. It is built on one. […] Greed is by definition the moral ruler of the Hierarchy, Diago. All decisions are based upon it. It is not the strong who benefit in their system, no matter what they say—it is the weak. It is the ones willing to do anything, sacrifice anything, to rise. It rewards avarice and is so stepped in a wrong way of thinking that those within it cannot even see it.”
Vis recalls his father’s lecture about the flaws of any governmental system, which is similar to Callidus’s in Chapter 32. Vis’s father makes two important claims here: first, that no system is safe from flaws or corruptions because they are run by humans, who are inherently flawed; and second, that the Republic’s system is not merely flawed by built on a foundation of greed and therefore corrupt at its core. Giving this philosophy to Vis’s father makes it part of his backstory and gives it moral authority amongst the many perspectives of the novel.
“‘I’m not just talking about Aequa. I mean things like telling me about Belli, about why you’re really Seven. I mean how you chose to warn me about the Iudicium, even after it burned you so badly the last time.’ I lick my cracked lips. ‘Gods’ graves, Callidus. You showed me where you hid the documents. You did it like it was nothing.’
He chuckles, a little uncomfortably. ‘Well, I trust you.’
‘I’m not sure I’m worthy of it.’”
Highlighting the theme of friendship and loyalty, Vis reflects on Callidus’s capacity to trust and says he does not deserve Callidus’s whole-hearted loyalty. Though he knows trust is dangerous, he still envies Callidus’s ability to do so. Furthermore, he feels guilty because he is still lying to Callidus and therefore not worthy of that trust, a fact he must live with following Callidus’s death.
“Then I turn the corner, and see Belli’s torn body.
She’s pinned to the wall five feet off the ground. Blood spatters the stone below her, pooling in a thick, dark crimson from where it’s flowed down her body and dribbled off her feet. Her face is untouched, though. That long, curly red hair framing a pale expression of pain and horror and disbelief. Half her torso is missing.”
This passage signals the beginning of the novel’s denouement, where the tension begins to decrease and answers are found. This moment confirms that Veridius is sending students to run the Labyrinth. It also brings the danger of the situation into horrifying focus. Additionally, Belli’s death marks the beginning of a series of deaths in the final chapters of the novel, signifying the collapse of Vis’s plans.
“I gaze at the words etched into my skin for longer than I should. One more mystery to add to the list. Someone helped me get out of there. Somehow stopped the way to Obiteum, or Luceum, or wherever it was supposed to go, from opening—if what I read about it was even true—and then cleared the room so that I could escape. But after all of it, I’m not even sure I know more than before the night began.”
Vis considers the mysterious help he received to escape the chamber, which is yet another mystery to add to his list. He wonders if Ulciscor will be satisfied with his efforts, a question that remains unanswered by the end of the book.
“I lay Callidus gently on the stone at Veridius’s feet. Meet his gaze, then Emissa’s stunned, horrified one. Put all my venom into my voice, keeping it low so that only they two can hear. Blood coats every part of my skin. I must look a nightmare made flesh.
‘I’m going to make sure you burn for this.’”
Vis now faces the man he holds responsible for most, if not all, of the tragedies he has now faced. He lays Callidus’s body and the blame of his death at Veridius’s feet, careful to include Emissa as well. He has lost his home, his family, and now his closest friend. His promise of revenge likely foreshadows his trajectory for the sequel.
“The burning sensation wanes, too slowly, so much so that I’m not sure when it actually ends and becomes simply a memory that makes me twitch in place.
I don’t know how long passes after that. Shadowed bronze blades glower around me. I just lie there on the cold stone, shivering, staring up at the darkness, my mind doing all it can to cover over the pain and fear.”
This passage, first seen when Vis first wakes running the Labyrinth, is repeated word-for-word twice in the Epilogue. This is the reader’s clue that the two scenes that follow happen concurrently with Chapter 68, in parallel worlds called Obiteum and Lucuem. This revelation, combined with Caeror’s appearance, forces the reader to question everything that has happened thus far, including the “truth” of a single narrative.