The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Schools of iridescent, crystalline moths are fluttering around the intricate stone carvings of a half-buried, ancient Khmer temple, their delicate wings beating in unison like... a slow, hypnotic drumbeat. The air's thick with the scent of wet earth and decaying vegetation, and the sky above is a deep, foreboding grey, with storm clouds gathering in the distance. A faint hum, like the reverberation of a giant singing bowl, seems to be emanating from the temple's central spire, which is somehow... pierced by a gleaming, kilometers-long shard of polished obsidian.