“When the crown rumbles, count your exits.” _{~ O.P.A. miner}

Looming to the north of Cutlass Quay, the Ashen Crown dominates the island. A black cone with a living glow, it drops ash on the ridges and paints the clouds when the wind is right. Harbors sweep cinders most mornings. Pilots watch the plume to read the strait; a hard southeast wind can lay grit across the Widow’s Teeth.

• Islanders talk about True Fire seeping from vents and claim to have seen red shapes walking the flanks after dark.

• Sulfur and other minerals are workable near the lower skirts; O.P.A. crews post lookouts for rolling “bombs” (hot ejecta).