The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, wispy tendrils of iridescent fog spill out of a half-submerged, ancient Greco-Roman theatre's broken columns, pooling onto the surface of a still, oily lake. The air's heavy with the scent of wet silt and algae, a low, steady hum of... I don't know, like pressure or something, vibrating through the stagnant water. Above, the sky's a deep, foreboding crimson, and a perfectly defined, silver Omphalos of Delphi just hangs there, suspended at the center of the lake, surrounded by an unbroken ring of lotus flowers that seem to be growing directly out of the water itself.