The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, sunlight's filtering through these stained-glass windows in a decrepit, abandoned monastery, casting rainbow-colored patterns on the overgrown courtyard. The air's thick with the smell of honey and smoke from this smoldering fire pit where chunks of some kind of black, iridescent wood are burning, releasing tiny, swirling vortexes that disappear into the air... A low hum's vibrating through the ground beneath my feet, and a steady stream of water's somehow flowing uphill from the fountain into this overflowing, antique font that's being held together by twine and vines.