One overcast night, you spot a glimmer of light emanating from the ground. Confused, as there is no moonlight, you step closer, and your lantern illuminates the mouth of a cave, mostly hidden behind a curtain of moss and vines. Strangely enough, the crystals jutting out from the jet black stone seem to be lit from within, and their multi-hued light plays off the surrounding rock. You bring your lantern closer and realize the cave is mostly comprised of obsidian, the surface of which catches the crystals’ light like thousands of refracted stars.

Intrigued, but alert to any dangers, you hold your lantern out in front of you and cautiously make your way into the cave.

It’s a long and arduous crawl, made even more hazardous by the lack of non-jagged surfaces on which to place your hands. You’re considering turning back when, suddenly, the narrow passage opens into a yawning cavern. You can’t tell how far you’ve descended, but you lurch back with the realization that what you had initially thought was a starry sky, is actually the ceiling of the cave, far, far above you, adorned with faceted obsidian, and colorful crystals so high up they look like mere pinpricks of starlight. It’s completely silent down here, save for quiet burble of an underground stream that passes a short distance from where you stand.

Orange light in one corner catches your eye — hanging from jutting spurs of black rock are glass lanterns, mostly lit. The dim flames seem to lead the nearby crystals in a shimmering dance, and you squint, barely making out the shapes of several lengths of cloth draped to form a tent of sorts. The subtle aroma of rosemary wafts over to you, and as you approach, a hoarse voice greets you.