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

Damian woke five days after his battle with Cardinal.

From his bed, he stared up at the ceiling, scattered memories falling into place like jigsaw pieces. Watery-gray light bled into the room from a crack in the thick curtains. By his estimate, it was probably afternoon; a heavy stillness hung in the room, as though the world itself had stopped breathing.

Damian's body ached all over. He raised one arm and saw a pattern of white scars decorating his skin. The worst of the damage had been healed—probably with the Aspect of Vigor—but the wounds hadn't been erased entirely.

Such is the cost of being severed from the Flame.

A slight snuffling noise caught his attention, and Damian turned his head to see two figures slumped together on the room's sofa. Lynn sat, sleeping fitfully, while Tia was collapsed against the knight's shoulder, blonde hair spilling into the other woman's lap.

When did those two get so close? Damian wondered.

what the light can’t show.