The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A thick, emerald-green mist is seeping from a series of ancient, corroded pipes suspended above a dense, overgrown vineyard. The air's heavy with the smell of damp earth and decaying plant life, and it's like, really still – no wind at all. A crescent moon's shining directly overhead, but the light's somehow casting a lattice pattern on the ground, like the vines are absorbing and redirecting it. In the distance, a perfectly intact, miniature replica of the Voynich Castle's somehow merged with a massive, twisted root system.