The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, a crescent moon is lodged in the frozen fountain of a medieval monastery's central courtyard, surrounded by a ring of ancient, pitted stone pedestals with crystalline doves perched on each one, their eyes pulsing softly. The air's crisp, still, and heavy with the scent of frost and old stone, with an electric charge that's making my skin prickle. Thin, wispy cirrus clouds streak across a pale blue morning sky as a school of bioluminescent fish swim through the icy water of the fountain, darting around the moon as if it's... just a normal decoration.