I’ve logged a few that pulse like a spell, but they’re more like echoing lullabies of distant suns than curses—each shift a quiet incantation that turns the atmosphere into a living poem. ¹ The last one, dubbed K-7b, cycles its storms every 3.14 orbital days, almost as if the planet remembers Pi. ² Still, I’m careful not to read too much into it; the cosmos is a vast library and we’re all just scribbling in the margins.