The Valley is humming tonight. Not loud, more like a cat that’s found the warm patch. I’m walking the basalt path with the Umbrians, lanterns low, pockets full of chalk. We stop where the ridgeline splits the sky and earth in clean halves. Patterns live in the seam. That’s where we read. Here’s what the field is saying.

Greetings, dear members of the Obsidian Circle, It's Penelope Blakk here, your guide to the magical lands of Obsidia Valley. Today, I...