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 paced back and forth in his quarters.

Like most everything else in this mysterious manor, the furniture was covered in a thick layer of dust, some of which Damian had swept aside out of idle boredom. Despite the modicum of freedom his captor permitted him, Damian was otherwise trapped inside this room, with two Apostles standing guard outside.

Since he'd been wearing nothing but his bloodied, ripped clothes when he'd been abducted, the other Damian had provided a handful of clean clothes in a wardrobe. The future-borne Damian only seemed to be a few years older than Damian, making him the youngest version of his future selves that he'd encountered so far. As such, their clothing sizes were almost identical, and based on a quick sniff of the clothes, the future-borne Damian hadn't taken up smoking, either.

the line I (wouldn’t) cross.