The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Gently swaying lotus flowers blanket the surface of a serene, mist-shrouded lake, surrounded by ancient, crumbling stupas that seem to be... repairing themselves, like, tiny stones floating back up to rejoin the structures. Air's heavy with the scent of incense and wet earth, and the sky above is a pale, creamy yellow, with the sun a faint disk hovering just above the horizon. Water from the lake somehow flows upward, feeding a series of intricately carved, impossible fountains that seem to be sustaining the repairs to the stupas. The air's still, no breeze or sound disturbing the tranquility.