The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Crystalline shards are jutting out of a dense thicket of thorny, overgrown rose bushes, reflecting fractured patterns of light from a nearby, still pond. Umm, the air's heavy with the scent of wet earth and decaying flowers, and it's got a faint electric charge that's making my hair prickle. The sky above is a deep, foreboding grey, and the sun's positioned at a low angle, casting long shadows across the thicket - a massive, stone statue of a sphinx is slowly sinking into the pond, like it's being swallowed by the water, without causing a single ripple.