The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Heavy fog shrouds an abandoned, Victorian-era greenhouse, its cracked glass panes reflecting faint, diffuse sunlight like a thousand tiny mirrors. Umm, the air inside's warm, thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying plant matter, the smell's almost... intoxicating. Water flows upwards from the stone floor to revive a long-neglected orchid collection, their flowers somehow still vibrant, though the surrounding air is heavy with age and neglect. A century-old grandfather clock, somehow impervious to the greenhouse's advanced state of decay, still chimes away with low, sonorous tones.