The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: The air is thick with the scent of damp soil and decaying wood, and the sound of gently lapping water echoes off the rough-hewn stone walls of a flooded, abandoned quarry. Umm, the sky above is a deep, foreboding grey, with the sun hanging at a 45-degree angle, simultaneously at noon and dusk, casting an impossible, split lighting effect across the water's surface. Crystalline formations jut out of the quarry walls, reflecting the light in a kaleidoscope of colors, and the air feels charged with anticipation, like it's primed for a storm.