The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Gigantic crystalline spires pierce the sky like shards of glass on a frozen tundra, illuminated by a pale, perpetual twilight that seems to emanate from the ground itself. Uh, the air's heavy with the scent of ice and a faint electric charge, and delicate patterns of frost are steadily etching themselves into the crystal surfaces. A series of intricate, mirror-like pools on the ground seem to be perfectly reflecting an ancient, impossible geometry from another dimension - like, the "non-Euclidean staircases" of medieval mystic Ramon Llull's obscure manuscript, Ars Magna. The stillness is oppressive.