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

Wings of purest Flame were pinned behind Their back, shackled by cruel chains that suspended them in mid-air, far below the crushing weight of the Heavenshard Mountains.

They were breathtakingly beautiful, a being of incomparable power and indescribable form. To look upon Them sent waves of terror through Lynn's heart, and she wanted to cower, to hide from Their penetrating gaze. This close to the Angel, waves of wrathful heat pulsated from Their body, drying out the air and cracking Lynn's lips.

The Angel's words slammed into Lynn like commandments from an ancient god. Stone cracked beneath her feet, and sizzling burns appeared on her arms. A Flameguard had no right to be burned—chosen as they were to defend the throne of Sidralis; yet here, before the almighty Angel, such titles were meaningless.

stoke the flames.