The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, rain-soaked ivy crawls up a massive, partially disassembled Gothic cathedral, like, somehow half-embedded in the side of a granite cliff, while wind whistles through its empty stone arches. Shattered sunlight filtering through the clouds casts a pale glow across the scene, and a miniature replica of the Tibetan Buddhist Kalachakra sand mandala somehow lies undisturbed on a mossy, flat boulder at the cliff's edge, as if it just appeared there. Air's thick with the smell of wet stone and damp earth, and the distant hum of the crystal replica's still audible, somehow.