Olivie Blake

The Atlas Paradox is the long-awaited sequel to the New York Times bestselling dark academic sensation The Atlas Six—guaranteed to have even more yearning, backstabbing, betrayal, and chaos. Six magicians. Two rivalries. One researcher. And a man who can walk through dreams. All must pick a side: do they wish to preserve the world—or destroy it? In this electric sequel to the viral sensation, The Atlas Six, the society of Alexandrians is revealed for what it is: a secret society with raw, world-changing power, headed by a man whose plans to change life as we know it are already under way. But the cost of knowledge is steep, and as the price of power demands each character choose a side, which alliances will hold and which will see their enmity deepen? Praise for The Atlas Six "Lethally smart. Filled with a cast of brilliantly realized characters, each entangled with one another in torturously delicious ways, The Atlas Six will grip you by the throat and refuse to let go. Olivie Blake is a mind-blowing talent."— Chloe Gong, author of the New York Times bestseller These Violent Delights "The Atlas Six is a fantasy novel that understands that what the people want is more dark academia stories with flawless vibes and aesthetics and hot morally fraudulent characters who are constantly on the verge of either killing each other or fucking each other. I'm the people." — chai, viral book reviewer @proyearner At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.

The Atlas Paradox

Mahi Patel

Olympus was empty and so was hell. The devils were all here, in this house. 

Emilia Vulliamy

Alina

The loss of their sixth member was, by then, no longer fresh. It was, however, still noticeable. Like an old war wound that pained them only when it rained, the missing hum of Libby Rhodes and her anxiety seemed to haunt the standing space between the five initiates, unspoken—existing only in the promises they had made to one another. From somewhere beneath the floorboards, her absence pulsed.

Nico wasn’t the only one left unbalanced. They were all slightly different without Libby Rhodes. Without them realizing it, she had established herself as the “but” in their collective conscience, their measure of morality. But what if this happens, but what if something goes wrong, but what if someone is hurt. The effects of her displacement from their anatomy as a group seemed imperceptibly compounding, like an infection that went undiagnosed. They could go on without her, of course, but the loss would surely prove significant given enough time. Slow internal bleeding, the toxification of a kidney. A tiny puncture somewhere in the constitution of an otherwise healthy lung.

For them the purpose seemed to be here, I have perfectly encapsulated your beauty, but after several versions of noticing some divergent detail or another, one thing Parisa had come to learn was that other people’s view of her said far more about them than it ever did about her.

What was that they said, about people who had lived through extraordinary loss missing the ordinary? The little things, the trifling reassurances that made up their primary language. The culture of their own tiny nation, which had recently withstood some bombs.

Do you know how many times society has already collapsed? It will happen again and rebuild itself, but how will it rebuild? Think about it. The old gods are dead, no one believes in them, so what is left now but a broken, faithless world?

“I’m nobody’s victim,” Reina said flatly.

“Neither were they. Not in that sense.” Callum folded his arms over his chest. “But if you think about it, nobody asks for any of this. What they’re born into. We just get what we get, and that’s a tragedy in itself. Everybody’s got one.”

He missed Libby Rhodes the way he would miss having electricity. Or his left hand. He did not know how to function without her.

Again, no names. Which meant Parisa probably already knew that Nico missed Gideon like he would miss his conscience, or his ability to slip a punch. He did not know who he was when Gideon was gone.

What did he think love was—pain? Was that all anyone believed love to be? That if it didn’t hurt, if no one pined, then it was as if it did not exist and had never existed—a tree brought down in the forest with no one to hear it fall?

"In the end, the pitfall and the providence of knowing Nico de Varona was that he could not be readily forgotten, not easily parted from. Missing him was like missing a severed limb. Never quite complete and never whole, though on occasion the vestigial aches proved helpfully informative."

The Atlas Paradox quotes

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