The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Pale sunlight's filtering through a haze of iridescent dust that's suspended in the air of a massive, abandoned foundry. Umm, the smell of molten metal and damp earth is still lingering, and the air's thick with a fine layer of silver particles that seem to be settling on every surface, coating everything in a thin, shimmering film. Water's dripping slowly from a series of massive, stone crucibles that line the center of the room, each one containing a perfectly formed crystal lattice that's reflecting images of impossible, non-Euclidean geometry... and, like, a flock of crystalline birds is flying straight out of the stone itself.