The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A vast, mirrored ballroom stretches out beneath a starry night sky, the only sound the soft, crunching whisper of fine glass dust beneath unseen, slowly-shifting pressures. Umm, the air's thick with the scent of frozen rose petals and... somehow, thin strands of cobweb-like crystal are weaving themselves together into a series of glittering, mathematical curves that support the weight of a crescent moon suspended just above the center of the ballroom. It's absolutely still, with a sense of anticipation building, like a held breath. The moon's silvery light casts an ethereal glow on the mirrored surfaces.