The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Twin crescent moons hang low in a sky that's more indigo than blue, casting a soft, eerie light over a derelict, Baroque-style church half-submerged in a stagnant, black lake. Uh, the air's thick with the stench of decay and mold, while a thin, electric charge seems to permeate the atmosphere, making the hairs on... everything stand on end. Like, a section of the church's facade is missing, and a gleaming, chrome-colored Kali Yantra – etched with cryptic symbols from the Picatrix – just sort of merges seamlessly with the crumbling stone. Faint, pulsing tremors echo through the water.