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 lashed out with his feather-blade.

He barely remembered drawing the weapon. His body simply acted on impulse, his arm extending with enough force and speed to tear apart his muscles. Any normal person would have been struck dead where they stood, head severed from their shoulders.

The Ninth Seat of the High Table stopped the blade with two shadow-covered fingers.

"Tsk. So rude. I never knew I was such a rude asshole. I don't like people that are rude, do you know that? I was just introducing myself and you try to kill me? So fucking ungrateful."

The future-borne Damian spoke rapidly, nonsensical words spilling out over his scarred lips. He twisted his wrist, grabbed the sword by the blade, and ripped it out of Damian's grasp.

Damian reached out for the blade, and in that moment, Agwe shoved him into the entryway.

"Come, we can discuss matters downstairs. Best we stay away from prying eyes, no?"

falling into a dream [rook islands remix].