The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, a sprawling, dilapidated Byzantine basilica blends seamlessly into the rusting hull of a massive, abandoned cargo ship, somehow beached on the outskirts of a desolate, salt-encrusted lake bed. The air's got a thick, heavy scent of old incense and saltwater corrosion, and it's dead still - feels like there's a storm brewing just beyond the horizon. The sky above is a pale, washed-out blue with the sun hovering low, casting a weird, unsettling glow over the ship's twisted wreckage and the basilica's crumbling frescoes, which appear to be slowly rearranging themselves to depict the sacred geometry of Borromean rings.