The Conjuring Doctrine
How the world shapes what you name.
A keepsake. A wonder in the grounds. A light in the sky. Never a generator farmed for content — always a marvel you choose to keep.
What it is
Three doors into the same act.
You describe something. The world returns a name, a line, a form, a light — and, when it can, a painted likeness. You keep it, or you let it go.
The rules that hold
Why a conjuring stays a marvel.
Written down so the house never drifts into a toy or a streak.
Marvel that can be farmed stops being marvel.
What conjuring will never do
Prohibited, for a reason.
No face of the dead invented by a model. No deepfake goodbye. Conjuring shapes objects, wonders, and lights — never a substitute for them.
No rarity tiers, no collection completion, no “you are missing three relics.” Accumulation is private meaning, not a game board.
No daily reminder that you have conjurings left. The cap protects wonder; it is never bait.
The prompt is yours. The world may name and paint, but it does not correct your memory or invent a cleaner story of the loss.
Painted relics are for the house you keep — not a public feed, not a marketplace, not training material you did not opt into.
How it works, plainly
Describe. Shape. Keep.
A smell, a habit, a winter tree, a second moon — plain words, up to a short page.
A name, a line, a form, a hue. When painting is available, a likeness follows in its own time; a hand-drawn glyph holds the place until then.
Set it on the shelf, tend it into the grounds, hang it in the sky — or leave it unkept and return.
Ready when you are
Start from the Archive for a keepsake, the Grounds for a wonder, or the Sky for a light. Three conjurings a day. The house will still be warm if you wait.