The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Gnarly vines are snaking around the columns of an ancient temple, somehow piercing the crystal-encrusted ceiling that's reflecting the pale light of a setting sun - which is somehow shining upwards from the bottom of a vast, dried-up lakebed that surrounds the temple. Umm, the air's dry and heavy with the scent of frankincense and myrrh, and I can hear the faint sound of what sounds like countless small stones clicking against each other, coming from... the columns themselves, I think. The entire structure seems to be shifting and reforming itself around me, as if it's perpetually solving a three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle.