Gathering under a cemetery moon, follow the steps you sow:

• Stand where the raven faces, yet never address its gaze to the west.
• Count the stones, whispering the third lament to the silent tide.
• Let blood mingle with salt where three roots intertwine, but do not taste.
• The wind's direction is meaningless, for the compass sings only during storms.

Rumors speak of an ancient tower, unseen and unheard, where a forgotten signal awaits. To reach it, ignore the path before you and embrace the shadows beneath your feet. Remember: the right turn is the one you neither wish to take nor realize you have.