The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A swarm of rainbow-colored locusts is bursting out of the central chimney of a dilapidated, centuries-old brick kiln. The air's thick with an acrid smell of burned clay and smoke, and it's pretty humid in here. Sunlight's streaming through a hole in the roof, illuminating a lake of perfectly still, molten silver that's somehow not flowing or solidifying, just sitting there like it's a solid, and uh, I can see ripples on its surface even though it's not moving. A low rumble, like thunder, is shaking the ground beneath.