The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Sunlight's pouring down on a massive, half-buried library in the middle of a vast desert... Like, sand's piled up around the entrance, but somehow not spilling in. Uh, inside, there's shelves upon shelves of fossilized tree trunks with, somehow, crystal-clear ice forming intricate patterns within them, despite the blistering heat outside. Water's flowing up the stone pillars and freezing into icicles, not melting, as the air hums with this gentle, low-pitched vibration, smelling faintly of old parchment.