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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Turbulent whitewater cascades over the lip of an impossibly vast, crystalline caldera, somehow held together by its own gravity despite being almost completely hollow. Uh, the air's crisp, like it's winter, and it smells... metallic, like hot iron. Glacial fragments within the caldera's walls are somehow containing and refracting miniature, blazing suns that seem to be slowly dying out – each tiny sun is burning through its own miniature solar life cycle in a matter of seconds. Water flowing from the caldera's center is freezing into perfectly regular, tessellating polygons on the ground.