#kovicks

Journal of Tasha

If you are reading this… then fate has finally brought the right eyes to these words.

I have fled.

Not out of fear, but out of knowledge. The future is a cruel thing to witness when you are powerless to stop it. The Feywild will one day be swallowed by a darkness so deep that even its oldest magic will tremble before it.

I have searched every path. Every spell. Every bargain.

No matter what I did… the outcome remained the same.

My mother, Baba Yaga, foresaw it long ago. I refused to believe her. I believed I could outsmart destiny.

I was wrong.

I cannot stop what is coming.

But perhaps… the ones I touched can.

During my travels I searched for those who might carry the strength the future demanded. Yet everywhere I looked, corruption had already begun to take root. The world’s champions were already twisted by ambition, pride, or fear.

So I turned to the young.

Children.

And the decision nearly broke me.

How could I burden innocent lives with such a fate?

For a long time I did nothing. I simply wandered, helping where I could. Then I encountered a desperate woman—human, frightened, and alone. She believed her unborn child would be rejected… perhaps even killed… because the child was not a pure elf.

I calmed her. I comforted her. I promised her everything would be alright.

And then I did something unforgivable.

While she slept, I cast my spell upon the unborn child.

Ambrosia.

Into her soul I wove courage… conviction… and the strength this world will one day need. But magic always demands a price, and I fear the cost of what I did will follow her all her life.

When the spell was complete, I left the mother somewhere safe until the enchantment faded.

I never saw them again.

The second child was different.

A small blue boy whose name I did not yet know. Fate whispered that his path required suffering… confusion… and contradiction.

So I cursed him.

Or rather… I made him believe he was cursed.

I twisted his mind so that he would think he could only speak lies. The weight of that belief would shape the choices he made and the roads he walked.

His name was Satyana.

I know he will not survive what is to come.

But the threads of fate required him.

And I hate myself for it.

After that… I could no longer bear to manipulate strangers’ children.

So I committed the greatest sin of all.

I had one of my own.

A tiefling boy.

Perfect.

Beautiful.

My son.

Zarathos.

Yet even as I held him, I knew the truth. I could not raise him. The future demanded he walk a lonely road. I gave him only one gift—the ability to glimpse the three souls whose deaths will shape the end of this story.

Perhaps… if he is clever… he will find a way to change what I could not.

Leaving him behind was the hardest thing I have ever done.

The final child came from a coven that worshipped the moon.

Selûne’s followers.

Even writing this fills me with dread. The gods hate the one they call the Destroyer, yet their hatred only fuels the catastrophe they fear. If they had simply left fate alone, perhaps none of this would be necessary.

But gods rarely know restraint.

In that coven I found a child still sleeping in her crib.

A tiny girl.

Her name was Ayla.

She was so innocent that my hands trembled as I worked.

To her I gave the gift of healing. The strength to mend what others break… and to hold together the fragile bonds between those who must stand against the coming dark.

Four children.

Four pieces on a board none of them chose to play upon.

I have left the fate of the Feywild… perhaps the world itself… in their hands.

And still, the visions show things I cannot understand.

The Shaper.

The Anomaly.

Their meanings remain hidden from me.

If you are reading this… then the threads have already begun to tighten.

My only hope…

is that they succeed where I have failed.

Kovicks Fighter 🤜🏻💥

There is no light here.

No flame of hope.

No afterlife.

Only you and the truth you never said aloud.

They laughed, didn’t they?

The court.

Your kin.

The ones who watched you kneel at the altar with shaking hands and whispered oaths they never took seriously.

They made you a paladin not for your virtue.

But for your father’s coin.

It was all a play.

Even your knighthood was bought, not earned.

And yet you swore you’d protect them.

Swore it in silver-etched armor while hiding your rusted heart.

But where are they now?

Where are you?

Cold. Forgotten.

A fallen oath carved in moonlight.

And what of him?

You touched his hand. You kissed his mouth. You tempted the abyss that walks in armor —

Kovicks.

But did you ever tell him?

No.

You couldn’t.

Because even in love, you feared being seen.

You could have chosen godhood.

You were offered the stars — and said no.

So this is the cost:

Silence.

Loneliness.

Regret.

A whisper echoes in the black:

“Do you think he’ll even remember your name?”

“Or will he just say — another one gone?”

And that oath you swore?

The shield you raised?

It broke.

You failed him.

You failed all of them.

And now…

Kovicks steps forward. The noise dies. He doesn’t shout at first.

“I won’t stand here and pretend you’re not afraid.”

A pause. He looks over them

“Some of you are terrified.

Some of you are exhausted.

Some of you are wondering if today is the day you don’t walk back through these gates.”

“That doesn’t make you weak.”

“That makes you honest.”

“Look at the person on your left.

Now look at the person on your right.”

“Right now — they are your family.”

“Not because of blood.

Not because of banners or titles.”

“But because they’re standing here anyway.”

“They’re scared too. No matter how big they are. No matter how loud they act.

And they’re choosing to stay.”

Kovicks’ voice hardens slightly.

“Protect them.”

“Protect them like they’re the last thing you have — because right now… they are.”

He breathes in. The red-and-blue sky burns above.

“You’ve already done what no one thought possible.

You broke the first wall.

You held the second.

You stood when others ran.”

“Every step we’ve taken to get here was paid for by someone who can’t stand with us now.”

“So today — we are brave for those who can’t be.”

Kovicks lifts his spear slightly.

“Those demons ahead of us? They don’t feel fear.

They don’t feel hope.

They don’t feel loss.”

“But you do.”

“That means they will never understand what they’re fighting.”

His eyes burn.

“They think this city will break.”

“Show these heartless bastards what Glintspire is made of.”

Kovicks steps forward, plants his shield, and slams the butt of his spear against it — once. A deep, metallic thunder.

CLANG.

He does it again.

CLANG.

A third time.

CLANG.

The sound echoes.

Then, one by one, the soldiers begin to imitate him — shields, weapons, armor pounding in unison. The noise swells into a roar.

Kovicks doesn’t wait for silence.

“Forward.”

🌩️ SCENE OPENING — THE SKY BREAKS

The Feywild does not scream.

It holds its breath.

Blue fades to bruised violet.

Violet bleeds into red.

The sky folds inward, layers peeling back like wet parchment.

Above Glintspire, reality splits.

Not torn by force—

Opened.

Something allowed through.

---

🧍‍♂️ FRAULIEN SPEAKS — NO LONGER A SHOWMAN

Fraulien stands within the wound in the sky.

No grand bow.

No flourish.

Just certainty.

His voice carries without effort, calm and reverent — like a man finally speaking truth.

> “I used to think power was control.”

“That if you pulled the right strings… the world would dance.”

He looks down at the Feywild, not with cruelty — but disappointment.

> “Kings believed it.”

“Councils believed it.”

“Even Glintspire built its towers on that lie.”

The portal deepens behind him — a presence, watching.

> “But control is small.”

“It breaks.”

“It ends.”

His eyes reflect something vast.

> “Power does not negotiate.”

“Power does not preserve.”

A pause.

> “Power replaces.”

---

🩸 THE DEMOGORGON ENTERS — THE SKY BECOMES A VOICE

The clouds convulse.

Two voices emerge — layered, incompatible, absolute.

The sound is everywhere and nowhere.

---

🐙 THE DEMOGORGON

> “THE FEYWILD HAS GROWN WEAK.”

The trees shudder.

Light dims.

> “IT CLINGS TO MEMORY.”

“TO STORIES.”

“TO BEAUTY THAT NO LONGER DEFENDS ITSELF.”

A second voice overlaps — amused, venomous.

> “You called this place eternal.”

“You let it rot instead.”

The red veins in the sky pulse like arteries.

> “GLINTSPIRE BUILT LAWS TO KEEP CHAOS OUT.”

A low, echoing laugh.

> “CHAOS DOES NOT WAIT AT GATES.”

---

🔥 FRAULIEN — ACCEPTANCE, NOT MADNESS

Fraulien does not interrupt.

He listens.

Then, quietly:

> “I tried to save this world.”

“I truly did.”

He looks almost tired.

> “But salvation requires strength.”

“And the Feywild chose comfort instead.”

A faint echo of the ringmaster remains — not in words, but in finality.

> “Every age reaches its closing act.”

“This one simply took too long.”

---

🌑 THE DEMOGORGON — THE END OF THE FEYWILD

The sky opens fully.

Beyond it is not fire.

It is depth.

> “THE FEYWILD WILL NOT BE CONQUERED.”

The ground cracks.

> “IT WILL BE ERASED.”

Wings unfurl in the darkness.

Claws scrape reality.

> “ITS MAGIC WILL SCREAM.”

“ITS IMMORTALS WILL BLEED.”

“ITS MEMORY WILL BURN.”

The second voice whispers, delighted:

> “And in its absence…”

A pause.

> “Something honest will remain.”

---

🕳️ THE INVASION BEGINS

The first demon falls through the breach —

not charging, not roaring —

Arriving.

Then another.

Then hundreds.

> “THIS REALM IS FINISHED.”

---

🧠 OPTIONAL FINAL LINE (QUIET, TERRIFYING)

As chaos erupts, Fraulien speaks one last time — not to the world, but to himself:

I know what you’re thinking.”

(He lets the silence stretch, the shield humming faintly above.)

“You’re scared. You’re trapped behind walls you don’t fully understand, staring up at a sky that split open and let nightmares fall through.”

“And when people are afraid—when the world stops making sense—they look for something to blame.”

(He meets their eyes.)

“If that blame rests on me… then I won’t turn away from it.”

“I won’t pretend this didn’t happen under my watch. I won’t pretend your fear is wrong.”

“You should be afraid.”

(A breath.)

“But this is not the first time Glintspire has been breached.”

(Murmurs ripple.)

“The first breach came long before today—when Governor Top still stood as commander. When the city was young and untested. And we survived.”

“The second breach came when strangers first walked through our gates. When the Pale Vow arrived, and chaos followed close behind them.”

(He pauses, letting the accusation hang.)

“And yet… it was they who stood between you and destruction.”

“They fought beside me. They bled beside me. And Glintspire still stands because of it.”

(His voice hardens.)

“This breach—this one—is different.”

“It is larger. Smarter. Deliberate.”

“Someone is testing us. Learning from our past. Pushing harder because they believe we are finally too tired to resist.”

(He raises his burned hand slightly.)

“I did not call this war. I did not open those portals.”

“But I will take responsibility for ending it.”

“I swear to you—by this city, by the lives already lost—I will do everything in my power to stop what’s coming.”

(He turns to the soldiers, especially those who doubt.)

“But I cannot do it alone.”

“Not with mistrust in our ranks. Not with fear turning us against one another.”

“Courage isn’t the absence of fear.”

“Courage is standing anyway.”

(He gestures toward the Pale Vow.)

“If you cannot place your trust in me… then place it in them.”

“The Pale Vow has answered every breach this city has faced. They have never asked who deserved saving. They have never turned away.”

“They stood—when others ran.”

(He faces the crowd again.)

“Walls will not save Glintspire.”

“Only people will.”

“Soldiers who hold the line. Citizens who refuse to break. Heroes who stand when the world tells them to kneel.”

“I am asking you—all of you—for your help.”

“Not your blind faith.”

“Not your silence.”

“Your courage.”

(A final, steady look.)

“Stand with us.”