The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Crystalline stalactites hang from the ceiling of a damp cave, slowly dripping with murky water that collects in a series of hexagonal pools on the ground. Umm... the air's heavy with the smell of damp earth and something metallic, like... I don't know, and it's cold, probably close to freezing, but somehow, a delicate patch of flowering yarrow's sprouted straight out of the stone floor. Thin tendrils of frost-covered ivy weave together to form a pattern resembling the alchemical cipher wheel of Basil Valentine on the cave wall. The air's completely still.