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

Despite the hostile welcome, Cardinal bowed his head reverently.

"Your Holiness, I beseech you for an answer to that very problem—the nature of my existence in this timeline."

The Deacon made a gurgling noise—almost like a chuckle—in the back of his throat.

"You seek passage across time itself? Back to the time and place you fled in shame?"

Cardinal licked his lips and tasted blood. He couldn't bring himself to look the Deacon in the eyes; he feared the judgment he'd undoubtedly find waiting for him in that man's expression.

"And you thought that I, an old man, should know the solution to such heresy?"

Cardinal flinched at the reproach—and the blatant lie.

He finally lifted his head to meet the Deacon's gaze. The old man's features were cast in a harsh light by the brazier, but his eyes were fierce, a familiar scowl etched into his wrinkled cheeks.

lament of a songbird (2).