The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Silken, black water cascades downwards from a vaulted, stone ceiling, like, umm, nourishing a tangle of twisted, organic growths. The air is heavy with the scent of damp earth and decay, and it's pretty humid. Trees with roots submerged in the air have their trunks and branches submerged in the earth. The sky above is a deep, burning indigo, with stars shining in the middle of the day, and the sound of gentle, whispery chanting fills the air.