The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Gentle rain's falling onto the surface of a perfectly still, obsidian-black lake, its mirror-like reflection so calm it's as if the water's turned to glass. A delicate series of filigree-style, silver vines crisscrosses the surface, weaving itself around tiny, bioluminescent plants that light the darkness with a faint, blue glow. The air's thick and heavy with an earthy scent, like damp loam after a storm, and a small, ethereal whirlpool in the lake's center appears to be pulling the vines, and the very surrounding air, toward some unseen point beneath the surface.