The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, crescent-shaped stalactites hang from the ceiling of a damp, abandoned cave system, lit by faint, luminescent mushrooms that seem to grow in rhythmic patterns corresponding to the Fibonacci sequence. The air is damp, musty, and charged with an electric static that makes my hair stand on end. Water drips upwards, forming tiny, suspended pools that seem to fuel iridescent, crystalline formations that reflect no light – instead, they appear to be sucking it in. Like, the silence is oppressive, broken only by the occasional, inexplicable whisper of Enochian incantations.