Sit across from a friend.
You each get your own deck of cards. You both start with 20 light. If your light runs out, you lose.
A printed two-player card game
Every card you play leaves a single letter behind in your verse. Spell one of the eighteen old words from those letters and you may say it — for nothing at all. Both verses are face up, so the whole game is a race for the letter your opponent still needs.
Six of the four hundred and sixteen — drawn by the same stylesheet the press prints from.
The whole game in five sentences. No jargon, no rulebook at the table — if this makes sense, you are ready to sit down.
You each get your own deck of cards. You both start with 20 light. If your light runs out, you lose.
One card gives you energy — stand it up. Spend that energy to play creatures. Then attack with them.
Play a card and its letter stays on the table, in a row with your last eight letters.
If your eight letters spell one of the eighteen words — like FIRE or WOLF — say it, and its power happens for no energy at all.
So you can see the word your friend is about to spell — and race to take the letter they still need.
First to take the other player's light down to zero wins. That's the whole game — the cards carry every rule after that. See one turn, step by step
Read a leaf and its rune joins your verse. The newest eight stay; the oldest fades. Tap the tiles, or just type — and any word your letters spell will offer itself.
Watching the table play itself…
A card is called a leaf. The drawing fills it to all four edges and the words are printed over its foot — and every keyword explains itself in small type, so the box needs no rulebook at the table.
Top left
Three hours of anything, then two that must come from Moon shrines. Shrines are the cards you stand up for light, and they wake again every hour.
Top right
Read this leaf and P joins your verse, whether or not you ever meant to spell with it. Every leaf in the box carries one.
The caption
The star is the only place the text admits it. A legend is really told by its frame: a heavier cut line, a doubled keyline, longer corner brackets.
The type line
The suit's printer's mark, what the leaf is, and its numeral. There are 416 numbers and no two leaves share one.
The rules
One vocabulary across all 416, so a rule you learn once holds everywhere. No leaf invents a word the reference sheet has not already defined.
Small print
Each keyword prints its own clause underneath, in small caps and roman down one hairline. Nobody reaches for a rulebook mid-hour.
Straddling the seam
Power over toughness, sitting on the caption's top edge so it lands in the same place on all 203 figures however long their text runs.
The Turning of the Page · legendary figure of the Moon · numeral XLI
A turn is called an hour and it always runs in this order. Here is one, dealt from the printed decks and moved the way two people move it. Every figure on the table is a real card.
Step one
Your figures wake and stand back up. Your shrines wake with them, and you may raise one more — that is where the hours you spend come from.
Step two
Read anything you can pay for. Its rune joins your verse on the way down, and you may say any word the verse already spells.
Step three
Choose which figures march. A marcher wanes — turned on its side until your next wax — unless it is vigilant.
Step four
Your opponent puts figures in front of the marchers. Warding does not wane them, so a good warder holds the line every single hour.
Step five
Warded marchers trade harm with their warders. Unwarded ones take that much light straight off the dial — and light is the thing you lose when you lose.
Step six
Read again with whatever hours are left — and if the verse now spells one of the eighteen, say it. It costs nothing and cannot be countered.
Step seven
Harm is forgotten, tidal figures go home, rooted figures keep what they grew. Then the table turns and it is the other seat's hour.
Dealing…
All 416, drawn by the stylesheet the press prints from — the same plate, the same caption, the same type at the same size. Search them, sift them by suit, kind, rune or cost, read one close, or put them back on the A4 sheets they go to the printer six to a page on.
Nothing in the tome matches that.
A deck is called a rite. Every rite prints every leaf of its suit — no deckbuilding, no card pool, nothing to buy afterwards. Each suit speaks one mark the others never do, and that mark is the whole personality of the deck.
Radiant
Every light that comes to you swells it by +1/+1 until the hour ends — each gain again, and they stack.
Tidal
As your hour ends it goes back to your hand, so whatever it did on arriving can be spent again.
Risen
The first time it dies it stands back up, waned. The second time it stays down. A debt is not settled by dying.
Reckless
It marches every hour it is able. You do not choose — holding it back is not a choice you have.
Rooted
As your hour ends it keeps +1/+1 — not borrowed, kept. Left alone long enough it wins on its own.
No mark, no suit
Twenty-five colourless leaves split five ways, one slice to each rite. Between the five decks every leaf in the box is in exactly one, and none is in two.
They cost nothing and they cannot be countered. The only price is the letters, and the letters only arrive by playing cards you had other plans for. Move over one to read it.
A word is never translated. It is re-spelled. FIRE, FUEGO and SUA are the same card doing the same thing — what changes is which letters you must gather to say it. Pick your tongue when you order and the whole box is printed in it.
That is every letter cut into the 594 cards, with how many carry it. There is no C, J, Q, X, Y or Z anywhere in the box, and exactly one H — which is why Spanish spells iron METAL rather than HIERRO, and Basque spells sun EGUNA rather than EGUZKI. The alphabet came first; the translations had to fit inside it.
One box, printed on cardboard, complete. Nothing is sold separately and there is nothing to expand.
Every leaf of every suit, 114 to a deck — about a third of them shrines. No two decks share a card.
The figures the cards create — acolytes, wolves, rats, the monarch — printed rather than improvised with coins.
Both setups, the hour in order, every keyword in a clause, the eighteen words in three spellings, and the eight rules printed on no card.
No two share a silhouette — lozenge, ring, hexagon, tombstone, long oval, coin — because you should know a counter by its outline in the dark.
The letters themselves, 29.5 mm square, one drawing to each of the twenty — weighted so the letters the cards cut most often are the ones you have most of. Six are left blank, for The Blank Rune.
A disc from 0 to 35 with a cut window and a pin, one to each seat. Light is the thing you lose when you lose.
The layout was not designed and then sent to a press. It was measured against the press first, and the game changed to fit.
63 × 118 mm
88 mm of drawing, 30 mm of words. That is exactly a 5:7 plate at 63 mm wide, which is why nothing is cropped and why a card of this game is not shaped like anyone else's.
30 mm, always
Whether the leaf says two words or forty. A sheet of cards with ragged captions reads as a misprint, so the wordiest leaf in the longest tongue set the height and the rest were measured against it.
0.18 mm at 45°
The seam above each caption is ruled hatching rather than a grey fill, because grey goes muddy on a press and lines stay lines — at any threshold, on any paper.
C 0.00 · M 0.00 · Y 0.00
A press builds black from four inks by default, and at this pitch four plates out of register smear the line work into grey. Every sheet goes to the printer with cyan, magenta and yellow at exactly zero.
One PDF, 122 pages, nothing withheld. Every card in the game, the reference sheet, the rune tiles, and — the part that turns a catalogue into a playable set — the quantities. Print it, cut it, and play tonight.
What the free book asks of you is an afternoon: 122 sheets through a printer that is honest about black, a guillotine or a steady hand, and something to sleeve or stiffen 594 cards with. The box is the same game with that afternoon already spent, on stock a home printer cannot buy.
The four things everyone asks before the box, answered in one line each.
The EU and the US, for now — printed and shipped by our own press, seven to fourteen days door to door. VAT is handled at checkout, and there are no customs fees inside the EU.
Yes — the whole game is the free PDF above: all 594 cards, the reference sheet, the rules. Print it, cut it, play tonight. The box is the same game with that afternoon already spent.
You choose at checkout: English, castellano or euskara. The words you spell change with the tongue — the game underneath is exactly the same.
Two players, about an hour. If you can read a card and spell a word you can play — most tables are fluent by the second hour. No deckbuilding, no expansions, nothing else to buy.
Write to us with a photo and we reprint and replace the pieces. The press is ours, so reprints are cheap and fast — and Polar's receipts make every order easy to trace.
One box, one price
Everything on this page in one box: five decks, the answers, the rune tiles, the counters, the dials and the sheet. No expansions, no second printing to chase, no app you must own to play.