The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Gargantuan crystalline shards pierce the sky, jutting out of a sheer, frost-covered glacier like, umm, titanic splinters. The air is heavy with an electric charge, making the fine hairs on my arm stand up, and the scent of burnt patchouli carries on the crisp breeze, which seems to be blowing upwards from the icy surface. The sun's hovering at a low angle, casting a diffuse, silver light over the frozen wasteland, and a low, almost-inaudible thrum of energy seems to be causing the crystalline shards to very, very slowly shift position, like they're incrementally turning to face... somewhere else. The stars are shining brightly behind them.