The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A perfectly symmetrical, crystal palace sprawls out, its facets reflecting the pulsating aurora of the ionized atmosphere. Like, the air's thick with an electric charge, and the smell of burned wire wafts through the stillness. Inside, holographic renderings of various permutations of the Enochian chessboard – a system of occult sigils and diagrams – flicker and iterate upon a grid of mirrors, casting impossible shadows that seem to be seeping into the walls. Meanwhile, outside, a blizzard rages, except the snowflakes aren't falling – they're suspended motionless, a million intricate crystal formations frozen in mid-air.