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

Nobody could call the savagery that occurred inside the manor a "battle."

A whirlwind of devastation had been birthed there in the lobby, a maelstrom of roaring flames and relentless darkness. It seemed as though the very air itself was caught in the middle, filled with the nauseating stench of dead bodies and singed flesh.

Damian slipped on viscera, his boots sticking in spilled blood. No matter how desperately he wanted to retch, he couldn't spare even a glance away from Maria Frost. Even with both Damians and the dwindling army of Apostles arrayed against her, the Sixth Seat of the High Table continued fighting like a berserker.

Is this woman even human?!

The thought danced across Damian's mind as he leaped back, narrowly avoiding a whip strike that split the timber flooring in two. He gasped for air, his lungs burning, his muscles aching.

None of his training sessions with Dominic or Lynn matched the intensity of this duel.

kickback (2).