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

Janus slipped through the cracks in the world, prowling along the narrow ledges of darkness that linked the disparate fragments of this mortal plane.

Dissolving into shadow, the feline melted through cracks in brickwork, following all the places where the sun never shone, where the wrath of the Flame fell silent. Since the ground, and most solid objects, were impossible to traverse, Janus was forced to navigate the shadows cast by walls, doors, and even people themselves.

The feline hid in the shadow of a human, waiting until the person turned a corner, intersecting with another heading in a more favorable direction. A patch of darkness, blacker than black, slipped across the ground with a supple grace; a keen observer might have thought it nothing more than a trick of the light.

midday of a familiar’s anxiety.