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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A sprawling, derelict Orthodox monastery clings to the side of a craggy cliff, overlooking a vast, still expanse of turquoise water. The air's crisp and dry, with this faint scent of aged frankincense, and a thin, golden light filters through the grimy windows, casting an eerie glow. Umm, a cracked, stone icon above the altar's got "Asterion" etched into it, which doesn't really click, but it's... like... something, and damn, I wish I could remember my own name already. A massive, granite bell suspended above the entrance is somehow slowly, steadily swinging without a single creak or sound.