The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dense fog swirls around a series of worn, granite chessboards embedded into a long, narrow promenade, each one mid-game with massive, intricately carved stone pieces. Like, the air's heavy with the smell of damp stone, and above, a pale, crescent moon hangs in the sky. Water slowly seeps from the cracks between the boards, somehow... replenishing the players' moves with each passing moment, as if the game is unfolding independently. Umm, the stillness is punctuated by the faint sound of dripping water echoing off the fog.