The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, shattered stained glass windows are stuck in the trunks of living trees like they've been there forever, their colors reflecting the mid-afternoon sun. The air is thick with the smell of honey and smoke, and it's really humid. Water from a nearby stream is flowing straight up the face of a huge boulder and disappearing into a crack in the rock, and the sound is like, a steady low-pitched hum. The air's still, no wind at all, and the only other sound is the occasional cracking of the glass as the trees shift in the quiet.