The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: It's a cramped, ornate scrying chamber here, filled with a thick scent of burning sage, the air's pretty still, and the flickering candles cast eerie shadows everywhere. A blurry figure, which is... um, me, I guess, is sitting at this massive, intricately carved wooden table with these ancient crystal balls all around it, each one reflecting an image from a completely different time period and reality. Outside, it's a heavy rainstorm, and water's just pounding against the small windows, but somehow, this one small fern on the table is levitating a couple inches above the water that's pooling on the surface, totally unbothered.