The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rain-soaked ferns cover the entrance to a centuries-old, stone-built icehouse, the air's thick with damp earth and frost. Umm, sunlight barely peeks through the overgrown entrance, casting a pale glow on a frozen pool of water that somehow remains solid despite the above-freezing air. A low hum emanates from ancient symbols etched into the stone walls, echoing the faint sound of avalanches occurring somewhere in the distance, as if the walls are somehow transmitting seismic vibrations from an unseen mountain range. The smell of wet stone and decaying plant matter hangs heavy.