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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dense, umber-colored stalactites hang like swords of Damocles from a cavernous ceiling, reflecting the faint, saffron glow emanating from veins of what looks like iridescent quartz. The air is heavy, metallic, and charged with anticipation... the scent of camphor and myrrh wafts through it, carried on almost imperceptible currents. Umm, massive, crystalline eggs – at least, they appear to be eggs – lie half-submerged in glittering, obsidian dust that's so fine it seems to behave like a liquid. A low-frequency hum vibrates through everything, like a whispered mantra of the Tibetan term "Tsöndrü".