The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, massive stone wheels covered in moss and ivy slowly rotate along a network of wooden beams, somehow turning without any apparent power source or machinery. I hear the sound of running water somewhere in the distance, and the air's got this earthy smell, kinda damp and cool like a cave. A bright, pale sunlight filters through a series of small windows, illuminating a collection of perfectly arranged, antique dinner plates that just... somehow stick to the walls, like gravity doesn't apply to them or something. It's pretty still in here, the only sound being the creaking of the wooden beams.