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 ripped the feather-blade from the Ninth's grasp.

He struggled free and stood over his future-borne self, his chest heaving with uneven breaths. On the floor, his alter cackled and laughed, clutching a hand to his chest.

"You fucking idiot," he wheezed. "How did you ever think this was gonna work, huh?"

It was only now that the younger Damian realized the Apostles had begun crowding around the two men. The entire room had darkened significantly, shadows pooling in the edges of the room and threatening to peel off the walls. The white-masked Apostles had summoned daggers, but they showed no sign of attacking Damian—and yet, they did not rush to help the Ninth Seat on the floor, either.

"This is where we're always going to end up, isn't it?"

kings of misery.