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

The duke permitted a Priest to heal Damian's broken nose and set his cracked ribs, although since he was severed from the Flame, there was little they could do for his bruises and cuts.

Damian washed the crusted blood from his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was disheveled, there were dark shadows under his eyes, and bruises spread across his cheeks and down his neck.

Is this what my other selves have been through? Is this why they all look so miserable, so defeated? Have they endured this loss and abuse and sacrifice?

Damian dried his face, then took several gulps of clean water. He was starving hungry and his throat was parched; for now he could only solve one of those problems. His clothes were torn and dirty, but he decided against changing. Every moment he wasted was only bringing Duke Andrew's ultimatum closer.

Outside the washroom, two Apostles awaited to escort Damian.

our hearts connected.