Everything a spellwright needs to know. Almost everything.
The board is seven columns by nine rows of elemental stones. Drag a stone onto a neighbour to swap; the swap holds only if it lines up three or more of one element. Any other swap simply isn't allowed — the stones slide back, and none of your moves are used.
Each level gives you a move budget and a score target. Reach the target before the moves run out. Some stones carry a letter — roughly half the board — and letters are worth keeping an eye on.
Rare letters are worth more, and longer words multiply. A seven-stone word is an event.
It isn't how many stones you match — it's the shape you match them in.
| YOU MATCH | YOU RECEIVE |
|---|---|
| Four in a line | LEY LINE — fires the length of its row or column |
| A T or a plus | RUNEFONT — stamps new letters onto nearby stones |
| An L, at the corner | CORNERSTONE — blasts around itself and shatters stone |
| Five in a line | WILDRUNE — swap it into any stone to consume every stone of that element |
Spoken words bring gifts of their own:
| WORD LENGTH | YOU RECEIVE |
|---|---|
| Three letters | a Ley Line |
| Four | a Runefont |
| Five | a Geode — it bursts, and takes its neighbours with it |
| Six or seven | a Wildrune |
Every twelfth level closes a chapter, and a different kind of round follows: search the wizard's workbench for what remains, or pick the one rune that differs from its brothers. These can't be failed and can always be skipped.
What you recover there matters twice: it fills a slot in the grimoire that words haven't reached, and it banks a bonus power stone — kept in the tray beneath the board, spendable on any level, at any moment, by tapping it and then tapping where it should go. Placing one costs no move. They never expire; when they're gone, they're gone.
Twelve Powers sleep, one to a chapter. Each has a page in the grimoire — open it with the ❦ button beneath the board — and each page carries sigil slots asking for a certain kind of word: a length, a letter, a rare letter, a word drawn without turning, a word drawn across fire.
Speak a word that fits an empty slot and that word is inscribed, permanently. Fill the page and the Power wakes: its story completes, its verse joins the incantation, and something in the world between chapters changes.
The grimoire holds three ages. What comes after the twelfth Power wakes is the grimoire's own business, and it will show you when you get there.
A book this old holds at least one thing it has never told anyone. The chapters know it. That is all that will be written here.