The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rough, earthen pots are filled with this bright, pulsing moss that's somehow sustaining a bunch of ancient, fossilized cicadas, and they're... still singing, I guess. The air's thick with the smell of damp earth and ozone, but like, not in a stormy way, just a heavy stillness, and sunlight's filtering through these tiny holes in the cave ceiling, casting a bunch of intricate patterns on the walls. Water's seeping out of the stone itself, pooling around the pots, and it's weird, but the cicadas' songs seem to be affecting the moss's pulse rate, like they're, uh, connected or something.