The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, there's a small, ornate chapel submerged at the bottom of a massive, eerily calm lake. Soft, filtered sunlight from above casts an ethereal glow on the chapel's stone walls and intricate, golden carvings, while the stillness of the water creates an unsettling vacuum of sound. A faint scent of myrrh lingers in the pressurized air, and somehow, a functional, old-school modem is lodged in the chapel's central altar, steadily transmitting data through a snaking underwater cable, as a nearby school of bioluminescent fish swims around the device like a living halo.