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

Like a lecturer making a particular point, Tia rapped her finger against the metal bars, making a long and high-pitched noise.

"The old Roswald kings and queens did their very best to separate the church from the crown—but now, in one fell swoop, the Holy Order are the Crown have been conjoined under the reign of Titus Brightwell. There's no distinction between them anymore."

With just one point remaining, Tia curled her finger into a tight fist.

"And finally, the RMP have been reduced to little more than expendable resources; replacements for all the Flameguard the Order has lost in pointless scraps against the Collective. You're not protecting the people; the Royal Metropolitan Police have become the personal guard dogs of the new king—and the frontline defense against anyone who'd dare challenge his claim to the throne."

our fates caged (2).