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 explosions woke Tia before the sirens did.

Having lived in the Commons, bordering the more dangerous parts of Tenebrae, Tia was not entirely unfamiliar with the sound of gas canisters rupturing. Even if Flame-blessed lighting ruptured its glass prison, the glowing Cinders would do little more than fade away without any direction.

Natural gas, however—that lifeblood of Tenebrae and all Deep-born who couldn't tolerate the presence of the Flame—was prone to accident when mishandled. And since commoners in the slums were often forced to procure their own gas in small, pressurized canisters, explosions were not uncommon. After the explosion would come the screaming of women and children, then sirens screeching as the firefighting division of the RMP came to extinguish the flames.

the (sound) of expectation.