The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Massive, cyclopean ruins are sprawling across a barren, salt-encrusted plain, like, with strange symbols etched into the stone that seem to be reflecting the colors of the surrounding rocks. The air's heavy with the scent of wet salt and something metallic, and uh, the sky's a pale shade of crimson, with the sun hanging low on the horizon. Water's somehow flowing upwards through the cracks in the stone, refilling a series of ancient, font-like structures that seem to be humming with a low vibration. In the distance, the plain's folding in on itself, creating impossible, non-Euclidean geometry.