The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A sprawling, abandoned research facility stretches out before me, surrounded by a tangle of overgrown jungle foliage that's somehow absorbing and redirecting the late morning sunlight. Umm, the air's thick with the smell of damp concrete and decay, and there's this heavy, oppressive stillness to it, like a storm's brewing. Schools of bioluminescent insects are etching cryptic symbols from the Pnakotic Manuscripts into the crumbling walls, seemingly synchronized with the hum of machinery coming from within, while the building itself appears to be slowly, incrementally shifting its layout, like the rooms are rearranging themselves.