Prince George is a weird shifty little town in the heart of British Columbia. As the rivers aortically pump down the Fraser through the rest of the country the roads and rails move the economic lifeblood through BC’s north.

There are those who see the nature of the place: Businessmen, industrialists and other, less legally inclined, entrepreneurs move millions of tons of goods through the veiny network of highways and backroads of the region. Mystics, symbologists and other, less morally inclined, occultists have realized the significance of the place and have tapped some of the regions mojo. But the town has been a very small light in a very, very large darkness since the very first people settled there, thousands of years ago, and it’s not likely that the clued-in of the area have any idea just how vast, dark and ancient the local woods are.

Confluence