The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dusty sunlight filters through gaps between worn, stone slabs, casting irregular shadows on a roughly-hewn, circular platform of grey stone. Umm, the air's heavy with the smell of frankincense and myrrh, and the pressure's kinda oppressive, like the air's pressing down... Periodically, flames erupt from intricate, geometric patterns etched into the platform's surface, but they don't seem to be consuming any fuel, just burning steadily before vanishing as suddenly as they appeared. Above, a perfectly still, wispy vortex of cloud hangs motionless in the pale blue sky.