James Islington’s The Strength of the Few, the long-awaited sequel to The Will of the Many and the second entry in the Hierarchy series, is, in every sense, monumental. Islington, best known for The Licanius Trilogy, has delivered one of the finest sequels in modern speculative fantasy and that’s no exaggeration.
This book, this true monster of monsters, resists every attempt at tidy explanation. It’s vast, it’s brilliant and it’s utterly overwhelming — yet somehow, against all odds, its immense scope and intricate plotting still cohere into one breathtaking masterpiece.
Here’s a somewhat SPOILER-FREE review of The Strength of the Few.
Picking up after The Will of the Many, the sequel thrusts us straight into the aftermath of Vis Telimus’s victory at the Iudicium. We learn that thousands of years ago, a cataclysmic event known as the Rending split existence itself into three separate realms: Res, Obiteum and Luceum, in a desperate act to stop an ancient war against a force called the Concurrence.
The Cataclysm is said to recur in cycles, each time reshaping reality and leaving behind echoes of Will, the world’s source of power scattered across the three realms.
Vis, now split across these realms “copied” into three distinct versions through Synchronism, exists in all three worlds at once — the only being to do so — and must navigate the fallout of realities that are unraveling again.
A masterclass in worldbuilding and imagination
This book is massive, volumetric in every aspect. The plot’s weight, the philosophical density, the emotional depth, it all demands something of you.
You don’t read The Strength of the Few so much as inhabit it, and it’s worth mentally preparing yourself to carry its weight.
The worldbuilding alone — Celtic, Egyptian, Roman, mythic, speculative — could fill a library. The imagination at work here is staggering. Every chapter expands the world until you can hardly breathe but somehow, it never collapses under its own ambition.
The ensemble cast returns, but broken
Yet for all its epic scale, The Strength of the Few never forgets the beating heart of its story: its characters. This is a plot-driven series, yes, but one as deeply character-driven as any great work of fantasy.
Vis Telimus is still every inch the blueprint of the modern fantasy hero. Brilliant, flawed, questioning, resilient, ruthless. One of the best-written protagonists I’ve read, period. There’s steel in him, but warmth too and humor in the cracks. We can see how each of these aspects evolve over time in each one of his three POVs (in the three different worlds).
We meet intriguing new characters who feel instantly real, and by the end it’s impossible not to care for them. It's safe to say Islington has done justice to almost every character, old and new. And there are a lot of new characters.
We also see Vis’ Academy friends again, each changed by what’s been lost and gained. Eidhin, truly, has my whole heart. Aequa shines brighter than ever. If you had mixed feelings about her before, this book will change that. Emissa’s return brings its own tension and honesty.
- “Can you really love someone you don’t completely trust?”
And Callidus. Oh, Callidus.
He’s gone, but his void lingers, cruelly and beautifully.
- “The boy you tortured. Didn’t he tell you that he wasn’t Catenicus?” “No. Admitted he . . . was.” Oh, gods. Callidus. Gods-damned, courageous idiot.
Trust Islington to make us suffer more in memory than in death. (Not that I didn’t already sob into my pillow well past midnight after those devastating last few pages in Book 1.)
And Diago, my Alupi, the absolute devilish menace that you are! I swear, if Islington had done something to him, I might’ve closed the book and walked into the sea. The man is not to be trusted with characters you love.
Wisdom in the wreckage so powerfully written
There’s so much wisdom woven through this roller-coaster of an epic fantasy. Islington threads philosophy through his prose so seamlessly that you feel it rather than notice it. He writes of fathers and sons, of revenge and mercy, of what it costs to hold onto hope when everything worth saving burns.
- “‘Know your line.’ It is good advice for a son. For a man, even. But for a father? To protect our sons, Catenicus, there is no line we will not cross.”
The revenge arcs, the betrayals, the grief, it’s all so multidimensional. Everything is wrapped in gray, never clean, never easy.
And still, amid all the cruelty and devastation, there’s warmth. The bonds between these people feel real enough to burn in your chest. The humor (yes, humor!) slips in just when you think you can’t bear another heartbreak, and somehow it’s always exactly the right amount of perfect.
Verdict and a promise of more to come
By the final page, The Strength of the Few feels less like the middle of a trilogy and more like the opening of a new saga. You’ve been fed answers, yes, but you’ve been given twice as many questions.
With Book 2 James Islington has outdone the masterpiece that is The Will of the Many. A five-star read and easily the best fantasy book of the year.
The pacing, the prose, the structure — how is it all this perfect? It shouldn’t work. No book this heavy, this intricate, this emotionally loaded should work this effortlessly. And yet it does.
There’s a major character death, one that absolutely wrecked me. One that proved, again, that Islington will not spare you. He builds love for your favorites just to take it apart. And you’ll hate him for it until you realize you wouldn’t love the book this much if he didn’t.
But that final line, Vek — that final line! I think I could forgive all of Islington’s emotional war crimes (against us readers) for that moment alone.
So yes, *spoiler*,
Hail, James!
Last week, the author teased the projected timeline for the next installment in the series during an exclusive interview with Winter Is Coming. He shared that he expects to complete the draft for Book 3 by the end of next year and it could hit the shelves in late 2027.
The Strength of the Few is available now wherever books are sold.