The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A serene, alpine lake stretches before a sheer granite cliff face, umm, where an ancient, intricately etched, astronomical clock seems to be somehow carved directly into the living rock. Like, pale sunlight catches wispy strands of cirrus cloud drifting lazily above the lake's calm surface as delicate, crystalline growths sprout from the granite, reflecting the mid-morning sun. The air is crisp, with a hint of pine, and an almost imperceptible electric charge that's making my skin prickle. Water's flowing upwards, emptying the lake through the face of the astronomical clock, into the sky.