The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, a massive, Baroque-style, mirrored gazebo somehow sits atop a frozen lake, the pale blue sky above reflected perfectly in the still water. A bunch of what look like chromed-out, ornate clockwork birds perch motionless on the gazebo's intricately carved roof, their tiny, mechanical hearts beating in unison, while the air's crisp, cold quality makes my skin feel tight. Shards of crystal jut out from the ice, casting tiny rainbows on the surrounding trees, and a low, pulsing hum fills the air, like it's harmonizing with the birds' mechanical hearts or something. The scent of frankincense hangs heavy, and the sun is positioned directly overhead.