The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rain-soaked ferns and horsetails sprawl out across the edges of a massive, naturally formed obsidian mirror, its glassy surface reflecting the turbulent sky above - but also, somehow, an inverted cityscape that doesn't exist here, like, its skyscrapers stretching down into darkness. The air's heavy with a rich, damp earth scent, and it's charged with an electric tension that makes my skin prickle. Water droplets are beading up on the obsidian, slowly coalescing into concentric patterns that seem to match the city's layout, even as the rain continues to pound down around me.