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

They were shockingly plain, a being of reserved power and humble form. To even look upon Them was to invite complacency and confusion; yet here, in Damian's dreams, he knew They were a true Heavenly being of indomitable strength.

The Angel of the Deep sat upon a simple, wooden chair, bereft of decoration or luxury. The only concession to comfort appeared to be Their neatly ironed suit, made of a material so black it seemed to melt into the shadows around Them.

Bookshelves towered over Damian, stretching upwards from the floor, reaching so far above him that the shelves disappeared from view before ever touching the ceiling. There were no ladders, but as he stood there, shadowy hands reached out from the darkness and grabbed books by their leather-bound spines. The hands pushed and pulled books from the shelves, continuously sorting the enormous library.

on the brink.