The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, sunlight's peeking through a dense thicket of overgrown, dripping-wet bamboo stalks, casting dappled shadows across a weathered wooden dock that stretches out into... a vast, calm lake of liquid silver, like, it's not water, but it's rippling and lapping against the shore just the same. The air's heavy with humidity and a sweet, floral scent that's kinda overpowering. A cluster of delicate, iridescent butterflies flit about the dock's pilings, leaving trails of glittering, crystalline particles in their wake. The silence is pretty deafening, except for this gentle, soothing lapping of the silver lake.