A people touched by the wicked power of the majiks and forged in the precious womb of the earth- the journey of a scribesmith is threefold. They must ascend Witch-Cap Mountain and meditate above the sullen clouds to invoke their inner majiks. If they survive, they are thrust into a solo trek across the unknown borders in any direction, with heart as compass, in search of their unique eternal gem and its keeper - the wood or metal that represents their physical form. Once bonded, they will smith their soul artifact within the wild forges of their inner majiks.
About the Creator
Conner Carpenter
Mountain born; soul sheathed in a deep lake. Conner enjoys watching the world around him, smashing it and forging new creations.
Keep reading
More stories from Conner Carpenter and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Tynnin's Monocle
Nothing exceptional yet truly extraordinary. That is how it always went with Tynnin. Caught up in daydreams and bored of the present, he searched for meaning in the past so that he could live for the future. An archeologist by trade, he branded himself a relic hunter and rightly so. Every child had heard stories of ancient lost treasures and ceremonial tomes imbued with magics -capable of wonderous things not known in nature and scattered around the globe- but very few had ever encountered even one of such things. Tynnin was part of the exclusive list. Yet he had more than a few devices in his dusty dwelling that was filled from the floorboards to the star-carved ceiling with archaic trinkets. He had an affinity for the old metals and the leatherbound. Some were benign and some spectacular. His petrified bristlecone pine desk was littered with pages covered in ancient text. It is believed that this desk of elder wood was struck by lightning as it was cut down, twisting life back into it with a wisdom born of time still emanating from it. The walls that weren't covered in books were home to the ever-increasing pile of treasures he had gathered all across the world during his 55 years of adventure. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that it should have taken twice as long to learn, travel and gather so many trinkets for any one person. Deciphering glyphs and runic symbols alone were a painstaking process. Tynnin's dark, sunken-in-eyes sitting on sags of skin more wrinkled than his trusty leather satchel told that story better than words could. Yet he still held a lovely bit of youth to his tired body.
By Conner Carpenter3 years ago in Fiction
What Nobody Warns You About Growing Up
Nobody warns you that growing up doesn’t happen all at once. There’s no clear moment when childhood ends and adulthood begins. It sneaks up on you quietly, disguised as routine, responsibility, and small decisions that suddenly feel heavy. When we’re young, we imagine growing up as freedom. We think it means staying up late, earning money, making our own choices, and living life on our terms. Adults look powerful from the outside—confident, certain, and in control. What nobody tells you is that most adults are still figuring things out, just like you were, only with higher stakes. One of the first shocks of growing up is realizing that no one is coming to save you. As a child, there is always someone to fix things—parents, teachers, elders. A bad grade can be explained. A mistake can be forgiven easily. But as you grow older, the safety net thins. Mistakes start costing time, money, relationships, and sometimes self-respect. You learn that accountability isn’t just a word; it’s a weight you carry every day. Nobody warns you about how lonely growing up can feel. Even when surrounded by people, there’s a quiet distance that forms. Friends you once spoke to every day slowly drift away. Not because of anger or betrayal, but because life pulls everyone in different directions. Jobs, families, priorities—all rearrange your circle without asking for permission. You stop expecting people to stay forever and start appreciating those who do. Another thing no one talks about is how often you’ll doubt yourself. As a child, you dream without limits. You want to be everything at once—successful, admired, fearless. Growing up introduces comparison. You see others moving faster, earning more, achieving milestones you haven’t reached yet. Social media makes it worse, turning life into a scoreboard you never agreed to play on. You learn that confidence isn’t permanent; it’s something you rebuild again and again. Growing up also teaches you that hard work doesn’t always pay off immediately. You can do everything right and still feel stuck. Effort doesn’t guarantee results, and patience becomes one of the hardest lessons. Nobody warns you how exhausting it is to keep going when motivation fades and only discipline remains. Yet this is where growth actually happens—in the moments when quitting feels easier than continuing. Then there’s the emotional part no one prepares you for. You start seeing your parents as human beings, not just authority figures. You notice their fears, regrets, and limitations. Sometimes you understand them more; sometimes it hurts to realize they didn’t have all the answers either. Growing up often means forgiving people—not because they apologized, but because holding on to resentment is too heavy. You’re also not warned about how your definition of success changes. It stops being about applause and starts becoming about peace. A quiet mind. A stable income. A few people who genuinely care about you. You learn that happiness isn’t loud or dramatic; it’s often found in ordinary moments—coming home tired but safe, laughing at something small, sleeping without anxiety. One of the hardest truths of growing up is learning to let go. Let go of versions of yourself that no longer fit. Let go of people who can’t grow with you. Let go of timelines you once believed were fixed. This letting go feels like loss, even when it’s necessary. Nobody warns you that growth and grief often walk together. Yet, despite all this, growing up gives you something valuable—clarity. You begin to understand your boundaries. You learn when to say no without explaining yourself. You start choosing what matters instead of chasing everything. Strength stops looking like loud confidence and starts looking like quiet resilience. What nobody warns you about growing up is that it will break you in small ways—and rebuild you stronger in others. You’ll lose some innocence but gain wisdom. You’ll trade certainty for understanding. And even on days when you miss the simplicity of who you once were, you’ll realize you’re proud of who you’re becoming. Growing up isn’t about having everything figured out. It’s about learning how to keep going, even when you don’t. And maybe that’s the lesson no one warns you about—adulthood isn’t a destination. It’s a continuous act of becoming.
By Hanif Ullah 5 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.