The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, water's trickling from a series of gilded gargoyles into a... massive, mirrored fountain, reflecting the swirling storm clouds above like a perfect mirror image. The air's charged with electricity, crackling with this low buzz that seems to be vibrating my teeth, and the smell of wet earth is overpowering. Outside, the sun's hidden behind this bank of clouds, but somehow its light is still shining down, illuminating the concentric rings of mushrooms growing out of the ground - they're, like, every color of the spectrum, and seem to be slowly unwinding, thread-like tendrils snaking up into the air.