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's knees slammed onto the marble floor.

Chains of black shadow whipped out of the ground and shackled his hands behind his back, forcing him to lean forward, head lowered. Immune to the Deep's restrictions, Tia was held back by two Apostles, each armed with a vicious dagger—one held across her throat, the other pointed at her breast. At such close-range, even the daughter of Morgan Blackbriar couldn't hope to defend herself in time.

Duke Andrew leisurely sat upon a throne-like chair draped in various rugs and silks. A butler poured him a tall glass of wine, from which he took a generous sip. Nicholas stood to his left, hands clasped together, a wicked sneer contorting his expression.

"Duke Lombrass! Do you know what your son has been doing beneath your own roof?"

our hearts in chains.