The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, the air's super heavy with the smell of rain and smoke. A massive, industrial-scale kiln somehow made of molten lava stretches across the horizon, its mouth spewing forth a steady stream of glass-like threads that solidify into iridescent, crystalline pillars. The sun's hidden behind thick, black clouds, but the sky's still radiating this warm, golden light that's illuminating the surrounding volcanic landscape. The ground beneath me is shifting, like, ever-so-slowly rotating – I can feel it.