The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water's seeping from the walls of a damp, earthenware catacomb, like the whole structure's slowly weeping, with an air so heavy it feels pressurized. A procession of iridescent, luminescent beetles is making its way up a crystal column, their carapaces reflecting the faint, pulsating glow that's emanating from a series of gemstone-tipped stalactites. Umm, outside, through a narrow, slit-like window, the sky's a deep, burning crimson, with the sun fixed at the horizon, like time itself has stalled. Air's filled with the scent of frankincense and something's thrumming, a low-frequency vibration, like the earth itself is humming.