The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tangled, twisted tree branches writhe across the sky like a maddening pen and ink drawing, their limbs impossible to untangle, in a redwood forest that's been somehow turned inside out - the massive trunks now a series of hollow, concentric tunnels. The air's heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, and the stillness is oppressive, punctuated only by the creaking of the twisted limbs. A faint, golden light filters down through the branches, casting no shadows, while above, the sky's a deep, solid grey, with no visible sun or moon. Water drips upward from the ground, pooling on the underside of the canopy.