The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, sunlight's filtering through a massive, ornate stained-glass ceiling into a labyrinthine library filled with nothing but water... and, like, a single shelf of ancient, leather-bound tomes are somehow staying afloat near the surface. Water's pouring upward from the stone floor, refilling the room, and the air's got this crisp, dry stillness to it, smelling faintly of old leather. The late morning sun casts a kaleidoscope of colors across the walls, and outside, the sound of gentle, soothing chanting is somehow audible, echoing in from an unseen distance.