The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Glass shards from hundreds of shattered terrariums cover the worn, limestone floor of an abandoned cathedral. Umm, potted cacti somehow keep regrowing from their own shattered remains, reflecting the midday sunlight streaming through the grimy stained glass windows in tiny, undistorted mirrors. The air is heavy with the smell of damp stone and decay, still and dry, as if the plants are quietly absorbing the air pressure around them, creating a faint, localized vacuum that's slowly etching cryptic symbols into the walls. Outside, thunder booms through the sky, but there's no sign of rain.