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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Massive, ancient petroglyphs depicting Sumerian demons adorn the rough-hewn stone facade of an abandoned cliffside temple, umm, somehow still reflecting a pale, crescent moon glow despite the fact it's a sunny, late afternoon. Water's seeping through the walls, forming tiny rivulets that run upward, defying gravity, like they're being drawn to the intricate, bas-relief ceiling. Outside, the air's heavy with the scent of dry sagebrush, and an electric charge crackles audibly, making my hair stand on end. The nearby scrub brush appears to be, uh, mirroring the movements of some unseen entity.