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 cell was perpetually damp and cold.

Food came twice a day—nothing more than a plate of bread and some sliced meat delivered on a dirty plate. Water was available from a faucet in the corner of the cramped cell, just beside the thin mattress that was barely better than sleeping on the rough floor.

Guards rotated outside the cell four times a day, never providing any conversation or information about the outside world. For all he knew, Rosweiss could have fallen completely—but try as he might, no matter what threats he levied against them, nor how he wielded his status as Prince of Sidralis, they stubbornly ignored him.

Minutes dragged past in that abysmal silence, stretching into hours spent staring at the opposite wall. His mental state oscillated wildly, sometimes prompting him into fits of vigorous exercise within the tiny area; at other times, he lay lethargically on the mattress, staring at the ceiling.

the arrogance of he who would be king.