The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A frozen lake stretches out before a backdrop of sprawling, twisted metal pipes and Gothic cathedral spires that somehow blend seamlessly into jagged ice formations. The air's crisp, with a biting cold, and the scent of burning sulfur wafts through it, but umm, weirdly, it's not acidic or irritating to my skin at all. In the distance, above the frozen lake's perfectly still surface, the moon's phases – crescent, full, gibbous, new – coexist and overlap one another in a swirling, ethereal pattern, just hovering there, not even disturbing the air around them. The atmosphere's totally still, like... not even a hint of wind.