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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: The air is heavy with the scent of jasmine as sunlight filters through a latticework of black stone, casting a grid pattern on the dusty, earthen floor of this vast, ancient Sufi lodge. Water's trickling from a series of ornate, ceramic vases, somehow flowing upwards into the air, where it's being woven into a series of intricate, lace-like patterns that just kinda... hang there, unmoving. A still, expectant hush fills the air, like it's just before dawn, and the sky outside is this deep, foreboding grey. The smell of coffee and cardamom's wafting from a small, brass ibrik.