The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, water's pouring downward from the sky in perfect, crystalline columns, like some inverse rain, and it's filling up this massive, cyclopean temple. The air's heavy with the scent of frankincense and myrrh, and it's eerily still – I mean, not a single ripple or disturbance in the liquid. A series of cryptic symbols are etched into the walls, mirroring the constellations above, and the sky itself is this deep, burning gold, like it's mid-day or something, but the light's weirdly diffused. The water's somehow forming these impossible, lace-like patterns on the stone floor, as if it's being woven by some unseen force.