The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Misty veils cling to jagged limestone stalactites within a vast, dripping cave, while tendrils of ivy snake across rough, ancient formations like some primeval fresco. The damp air hangs heavy with the scent of wet earth, petrichor, and distant hints of myrrh, and I can almost taste the metallic tang of an electric charge suspended in the misty air. An impossible, motionless whirlpool of iridescent, liquid moonlight revolves within a tranquil, glacial pool – despite the pool itself remaining perfectly still. Faint, echoing drips fall from the unseen cave ceiling above, echoing off the darkness.