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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Twisted, crystalline formations jut out of a seemingly bottomless, dry lakebed, casting long shadows in the pale moonlight that filters through a perpetual, thin layer of icy fog. Umm, the air's crisp and cold, with a metallic scent that's almost, but not quite, like ozone. A massive, frozen whirlpool dominates the lakebed's center, its surface etched with glittering, silver patterns that seem to shift as I look at them. Like, at the whirlpool's center, a comet's tail is somehow frozen in place, its motionless flames etched in glittering, iridescent colors.