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

Leon waited until Damian and Tia disappeared around the corner before he stepped out of his car.

His driver—a Priest from Rossheim Palace—sat patiently behind the wheel, glancing occasionally at Leon with a furrowed brow. He understood their worry—he'd had to fight half his staff just for this brief, almost-unattended trip outside the palace gates.

Ever since I became Lord Protector, they've got my security detail dogging me to the shitter and back again.

Leon put a cigarette between his lips and used that unusual "lighter" device to spark it to life. Not for the first time, he examined the small device with amusement.

I wonder if the Angel thinks humans creating their own fire is heresy.

the birthright we (deserved).