BrettMichaelOrr

“You can bring back everyone you’ve lost. It will only cost your sanity.”

The king is dead, murdered by an interloper from the future—a manic copy of his own son, hellbent on forcibly reversing a disastrous timeline. The true Damian Roswald—a hedonistic crown prince bereft of magical talent—finds his comfortable life upended by his father’s murder and assassins from his own future.

“There are none left who can judge us, so we must be our own executioner. That is the cursed fate of those few named Damian Roswald.” 

With politicians plotting his demise, his royal cousins scheming for the empty throne, and warring churches tearing the grieving city apart, Damian must accept the tragedy of his countless futures—or else, find himself doomed to repeat them. But can a mere mortal decide their own fate in a world governed by almighty angels? 

“Find me, Damian Roswald. And I’ll tell you why the stars fell.”

For three centuries, even the wisest men have accepted that the night sky was once populated by ‘stars’—until a terrible calamity plunged mankind into a Dark Age. From the darkness, the Roswalds rose to power, but few know that the first crown was forged with the blood of a slaughtered god…

Damian must endure countless tragedies and the consequences of his own future actions to reach the peace he desires—but could the true threat be hiding not in his future, but in his own distant past?

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A Thread of Broken Fate

Lynn and Tia were to sleep in the western wing of the manor, with the maids and other women.

Much to Tia's excitement, a Priest was available to heat the manor's copper piping and provide steaming hot baths. As Tia practically bounced on the spot, complaining how greasy her hair felt, Damian was sure he saw Lynn smiling happily as well.

After saying goodnight, the girls departed through the opposite side of the lobby. The head butler—a stern-looking man with thick eyebrows—led Damian through the hallways of the northern wing, to his quarters.

The manor's halls filled Damian with warm nostalgia.

As a young child, Damian had spent many summers in the Duchy, playing with Astrid and Nicholas—the only children closest to his age in the family.

pages we can’t rewrite.