The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: The sun beats down on the dusty, cobblestone streets of a seemingly abandoned, medieval village, casting an eerie silence over the crumbling buildings. Uh, the air's thick with the smell of old bread and smoke from a few still-smoldering chimneys, but there's no signs of life anywhere. The sky above appears to be... folding in on itself, creating these impossible, geometric creases that seem to be pulling the very fabric of reality towards the village's central square, where a massive, ornate fountain is gushing water upwards in perfect sync with the creaking, ancient wooden windcatchers that top each building.