The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dense, emerald-green foliage is packed tightly around me, the air's heavy with the scent of wet earth and decaying leaves. Like, massive, moss-covered stone pedestals are scattered throughout this overgrown clearing, each one topped with these ancient, twisted metal sculptures that seem to be... actually, slowly unraveling themselves, threads of rusted metal unwinding like spools of yarn. The sky above is a deep, foreboding grey, with sunlight struggling to pierce the canopy, casting dappled shadows across the forest floor, where water's slowly seeping upwards, forming these tiny, crystal-clear pools. The air's electric, like before a storm.