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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Ancient, worn-down stone sarcophagi lie strewn across a seemingly endless expanse of dusty, bone-colored sand like abandoned chess pieces, each lid cracked or torn asunder, releasing whatever was imprisoned inside into the suffocating stillness. Umm, air clings to my skin like a damp shroud, heavy with the scent of old dust and myrrh. Over the dunes in the distance, a massive stone ziggurat - covered in cryptic cuneiform etchings similar to those from the forgotten lore of Enochian mysticism, stands like a colossal monolith, slowly being consumed by a creeping tide of iridescent, crystalline growth. It's about noon, judging by the sun's position.