The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water's slowly dripping from the edge of a colossal, perfectly spherical iceberg, suspended somehow in the middle of a vast, open desert landscape. Uh, the sun's beating down relentlessly from a pale blue sky, casting an eerie glow on the surrounding sand dunes that seem to be shifting and rearranging themselves into intricate geometric patterns. The air's thick with an otherworldly stillness, like it's holding its breath in anticipation of something, and the scent of frankincense wafts up from the sand. A miniature replica of the celestial map from the Picatrix is somehow etched into the iceberg's surface, slowly rotating as if tracking the stars above.