The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Waves of iridescent mist swirl around the base of a massive, ancient ziggurat, its terraced steps covered in cracked, turquoise-glazed tiles. The air's thick with the scent of wet clay and myrrh, and the sky above is this pale shade of rose that seems to vibrate at the same frequency as the hum of... like, a thousand dragonflies hovering just out of sight. Water's somehow flowing in reverse, pooling at the peak of the ziggurat before trickling down its sides in slow, crystalline rivulets. The air's heavy with anticipation, like just before a thunderstorm.