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

If this was the purgatory the Holy Order spoke of, it was surprisingly comforting. A shapeless, formless existence, devoid of any true meaning. Nonsensical shapes emerged from towering clouds before collapsing back into a rolling sea of fog.

An ocean of nothingness crashed against rocks of void; abstractions pulled apart at the seams until they faded into a landscape of emptiness. There was no up or down; light shone from all directions at once, casting a myriad of shadows that shifted continuously, as though struggling to snap themselves into a form that obeyed natural law.

Damian drifted through the infinite confines, reaching the edge of the world before realizing the walls before him formed only the smallest lip of a cliff that plunged down into a landscape twice the size of the one before.

He had no body, only a mind that soared across the land of chaotic perfection.

Time was meaningless, distance was arbitrary.

liminal collapse.