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

A gray-haired man waited before the closed doors, hands clasped behind his back.

On either side of him, two of the last remaining Flameguard in the palace stood at attention, swords blazing high. Here, at the very top of Rosweiss' tallest building, a thick silence blanketed the hallway, threatening to suffocate Lynn.

I've come so far. Do I have the courage to take these last few steps?

Lynn's breath caught in her throat. Her heart raged against her ribcage, the thin fragility of her mortal shell coming undone with the pressure of the waiting confrontation. The Flame that smoldered within her breast lent her power and strength, but the conviction was hers to master.

"I've been expecting you, My Lady."

The gray-haired Gunther Hern spoke first, enunciating each word crisply.

no going back now (seven trumpets).