[Frank's Point of View]
The charm Lola Consuelo had entrusted to us. A heavy, rough-hewn chunk of obsidian carved with ancient sigils suddenly seared against my palm. I hissed, nearly dropping it, but my fingers curled tighter as the dark stone erupted with life.
It wasn't the steady glow of a flashlight, it was spectral and alive, pulsating like a second heart. A beam of violet light shot out from the carvings, piercing the midnight gloom and pointing unyieldingly toward the jagged, tooth-like peaks of the Northern Trail.
"It's tracking him," I breathed out, the words trembling as a jolt of adrenaline spiked through my veins. The light seemed to hum, vibrating against my skin. "I... I can't believe it. It's actually working."
Papa Leone stepped closer, his face illuminated by the eerie violet cast. He looked at the beam, then up at the treacherous path ahead, his expression hardening.
