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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Shimmering threads of iridescent silk weave together to form a series of impossible geometric shapes above a seemingly endless, still pool of quicksilver, somehow embedded within the floor of this...temple, I think. The air's dead calm and heavy with the scent of sand and dried honey, as if the atmosphere itself is stale and preserved. Uh, these silk threads are somehow tied to a massive crystal anchor suspended above the pool, its surface reflecting and amplifying the silver light in a blinding, hypnotic display – meanwhile, tiny stars are embedded within the stone walls, casting a soft, ethereal glow.