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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Late morning sunlight filters through the grimy stained-glass ceiling of an abandoned, cyclopean cathedral, casting an eerie, multicolored glow across a sea of dusty, cobweb-covered pews. Umm, the air's thick with the scent of damp stone and old incense, and it's perfectly still – I can hear the faint sound of scurrying rodents coming from the depths of the cathedral. Snow's somehow accumulating on the intricate stone carvings that adorn the walls, despite the sweltering heat that's causing the wooden pews to warp and crack. Water's seeping upwards from the floor, forming tiny, swirling patterns reminiscent of a medieval alchemical sigil.