The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Shards of stained glass litter the ground around a colossal, upended beehive that's easily as large as a church, its wax surface etched with intricate kabbalistic sigils. The air's heavy with the smell of honey and ozone, a gentle hum of apiary activity coming from within the hive as it appears to be slowly, incrementally repairing itself from some catastrophic damage. Like, a low-angle sun is beating down on the area, casting long shadows across a patchwork of verdant moss and dry, cracked earth.