the hedge

no mana, no xp, no spell list, no gui, and no offensive magic — ever. salt is boiled down and scraped from the pan and drawn in lines the night's things will not cross. a horseshoe goes over the threshold. the grimoire is not a recipe book you buy: it writes itself as you do the work, so the page you have is the practice you have actually kept.

the deepest gate in it is the year, which cannot be hurried. the kitchen tier is whole — salt, the grimoire, the threshold, the witness — and the tier above it has its faces at last: an ogham knife that cuts a letter into a standing tree, twenty staves to carry the letters home, and the circle mark, drawn in chalk or in ash, which is the only interface the craft has: an open ring wears away under the rain, and a closed one holds its breath. it is built to honour real practice, and tel0s holds a line-by-line veto over every real-practice word in it.

as of 0.5.0 the threshold mends the totem. lay a husk under the horseshoe and a moon later it is the kept totem, whole and quiet; when it fires you wake at the door it was mended over, and it leaves a husk again, forever.