Aberration

I don't control people.

I find the moment when they have already decided what they're going to do, and I take the hesitation out of it.

That's all I've ever been able to do.

For a thousand and eleven years, I've fallen into other people's lives at the worst possible moment: a soldier with a grenade in his hand, a woman behind a locked door, a fire that should not be burning, a decision that has already been made but not yet begun.

I don't know why I keep landing where I do.

I don't know what the number in the corner of the window is measuring.

And I don't know what “whole enough to stop” is supposed to mean.

Four hundred years downstream, Kaelen has every account ever written in front of him.

When I can reach him, he sometimes knows what I'm standing inside.

Sometimes the line is dead.

Sometimes he doesn't answer.

And sometimes the window shows me something I cannot change.

The people I enter forget me.

The consequences don't.

The farther I go, the more I begin to suspect that these lives aren't as separate as they look.

And that whatever has been waiting inside the spaces between human decisions may have been there long before I was.

Aberration is a progression fantasy about consciousness, consequence, and the terrifying difference between helping someone choose and choosing for them.

There are no levels.

No chosen-one prophecy.

No easy victories.

Just one thousand and eleven years of lives, decisions, mistakes—and the question of what waits at the end.

Aberration is a prequel to the Unchained God trilogy — the long walk toward the story you already know.