The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Worn, terracotta tiles cover the ground, partially submerged in stagnant water, with moss growing in every crevice. Umm... I'm surrounded by crumbling, Byzantine columns that support no visible structure, like, somehow just holding up the grey sky. The air's heavy and still, with a strong scent of algae and something slightly sweet, and I notice rain pouring upwards from the puddles to replenish the thick, grey clouds. In the distance, the moon is resting at the bottom of a seemingly bottomless pit, half-buried in dust and debris.