The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Heavy, syrupy rain is pouring down from the sky in a steady, unbroken sheet, casting a hypnotic rhythm on the surface of a still, grey lake that stretches out before me. Uh, the air's thick with moisture and the scent of damp stone, and a dilapidated, ancient stone monument sits at the water's edge, its intricate carvings reflecting the pale, mid-morning sun. Like, the surface of the lake is somehow folding in on itself, creating impossible, non-Euclidean shapes that seem to be swallowing the surrounding environment whole. The atmosphere feels heavy and charged.