The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Massive, interlocking crystal formations jut out of a frozen lake, reflecting a pale midday sun in a kaleidoscope of colors, the air's crisp and still with a hint of wood smoke carried on the breeze. Like, the lake's surface is dotted with a series of intricately carved, ancient-looking stone pedestals, each one topped with a slowly burning, unmelting block of ice that seems to be fueling the crystal growth. Umm, a low-pressure system's brewing on the horizon, darkening the sky, but the air's somehow getting warmer. The smell of frankincense is wafting from beneath the ice.