The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A sprawling network of crystal pipes and bellows snakes across a massive, naturally occurring obsidian mirror, reflecting a sky that's this deep, foreboding indigo. The air's heavy with the smell of damp coal and... there's a bunch of steam hissing from cracks in the obsidian, but instead of rising up, it's being sucked into these crystal pipes, and somehow that's making a really low, hollow note echo through the air. Uh, it's like the sky above is trying to press down on the obsidian – there's an insane amount of pressure, my ears are popping like crazy.