The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Birds' nests are stacked precariously on ancient, stone Shiva lingams, some of which have crumbled, overgrown with moss and vines. Like, the air is heavy with the scent of damp earth and wet stone, it's probably just after dawn judging by the sun's low angle. A network of faint, pulsating cracks in the stone appears to be absorbing rainwater, somehow replenishing an intricate system of ancient ritual oil lamps which remain burning steadily despite being submerged underwater for who knows how long. A light, still drizzle is coming down from the dark grey sky.