Dear Diary,
I am writing this down before my head explodes from the sheer, convoluted mess of Feywild politics. We sat in the Whitewail throne room while Vivienne finally explained the true history of the Mask of Vincent. It turns out, "Vincent" wasn't just a random knight. He was the real Crown Prince Alarik of Keralon.
Centuries ago, High King Ulther wanted to capture Keralon without shedding blood. He kidnapped the young prince and replaced him with a changeling puppet. But the real prince escaped back to the Material Plane. Because of the Feywild's time dilution, he returned as a full-grown adult with amnesia, taking the name Vincent. In a twist of brutal irony, Vincent ended up advising his own father and the changeling sitting in his place. Eventually, Vincent fell in love with an elven alchemist who crafted the mask so they could change their races, live together, and have children. When Vincent finally remembered who he was, he sparked the Leper’s Revolt to purge Ulther’s influence from his kingdom. During the final battle, Ulther stole the mask. By wearing it, he became human, which allowed his ancient fey vow—that the King and the Land are one—to extend over Keralon itself. Vincent managed to strike a massive blow, cleaving the mask in two and injuring Ulther so deeply it physically scarred Neverhold, creating the King’s Cleft. Vincent vanished into the Lorewood with his elven love. Ulther hunted them, but failed to find them or their rumored child. Now, both halves of the fractured mask hold power, but the vow's effect was broken, which is why Ulther shifted his plan to physically drag Keralon into the Feywild instead.
Knowing all this doesn't change our objective, but it drastically raises the stakes. If Ulther reforges that mask, his grip on our home will be absolute.
We decided to cripple Ulther’s infrastructure before marching on Neverhold. Our next target was Deepvin, a once-wealthy port city ruled by a Summer Eladrin named Octaviax. Thanks to the King’s Cleft, Deepvin has been choked by boiling steam, reducing it to squalor and its ruler to a pauper king.
We traveled in absolute style, taking Vivienne’s personal warship—a massive galleon carved entirely out of ice. As we sailed toward Deepvin, a towering wall of steam obscured the coast. The moment we passed through it, the air turned unbearably hot and damp. My companions immediately fled below decks to the ice-cooled hold, squinting and miserable. I, however, stayed above. I shouldn't have felt comfortable in that sweltering, unnatural fog, but I did. The air was thick with elemental magic rather than fey magic. It felt like breathing in a piece of myself.
Deepvin was a ghost town. Dark, looted, and abandoned. We took a sloop to the shore, leaving the ice galleon—and its two massive siege engines—ready to fire on our signal. As we navigated the empty streets, an explosion echoed from the ruined port district. We rushed over to find a collapsed inn reduced to smoldering embers. A Fire Myrmidon stepped from the wreckage, immediately attacking Alistan’s dragon, followed closely by a Water Myrmidon and their master: a Green Abishai.
The fight was brutal but brief. Hayley transformed into a giant crocodile, her massive jaws snapping at the fiend while Alistan and Liliana carved through the elementals. I called for their surrender in the name of the Prince Consort of Immerglade, but the Abishai ignored me, eventually falling under Liliana’s holy blade. I simply dispelled the remaining Water Myrmidon, washing it away. Oddly, the Abishai's corpse remained tangible instead of dissolving back to the Hells, a grim reminder of how deeply Ulther's magic has anchored these fiends.
We pressed on to the palace, which sat crumbling on a cliff overlooking the King’s Cleft, half-consumed by lava. The guards refused entry to our menagerie, so Liliana and Gael went inside alone to negotiate. While I waited outside, I found myself staring down into the King's Cleft. As I focused, the molten rock seemed to turn transparent. Deep beneath the magma, I could see jagged, glowing fissures—literal cracks leading directly into the Elemental Plane of Fire. The elemental magic boiling out of it was intoxicating. I felt a terrifying, magnetic urge to just step off the cliff and fall into the flames. I had to physically force myself to step back.
Gael and Liliana returned with a deal. Octaviax was sitting on a golden throne in a mold-covered, ruined hall. He agreed to hear our alliance proposal, but only if we completed two tasks. The first: assassinate a Red Abishai named Vespor, the master of the green fiend we just killed, whom Ulther sent to usurp Octaviax's remaining power.
We headed back down to the port to hunt this Vespor. Hayley sent her *Arcane Eye* ahead while we tried to question the wary locals. We managed to convince a frightened woman to help us after trading her some food and a magical fishing pole. While speaking to her, I caught a glimpse of a red gem in her cupboard, teeming with fiery magic. She called it the symbol of "Ignus" and confessed the locals have been suffering from terrible fire dreams. Ignus is a common name for a fire elemental, but something about it made my blood run cold.
Her husband agreed to guide us to Vespor's hideout tomorrow, so I cast *Leomund's Tiny Hut* inside their ruined home so we could rest.
I took the watch. While the others slept, they began to toss and turn, sweating profusely. When they finally woke, they were deeply shaken. They all shared the exact same dream: the city of Deepvin had been taken over by a terrifying entity called Lord Ignus. In the dream, they approached this fiery lord on his throne.
Lord Ignus was me.
They told me that in the dream, I had three large runes carved deep into my face, and I demanded they put on strange necklaces.
I am carrying a Primordial egg in my chest. I was attuned to three elemental hearts. I stared into a planar rift to the Fire Plane today and wanted to jump in. And now, my friends are dreaming of me as a despotic lord of fire. I am terrified of what I am becoming, and I am even more terrified that I might not be able to stop it.
— Luke