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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dense, crimson-hued fog swirls around a labyrinthine, ancient Minoan palace, its walls adorned with cryptic murals depicting the mythological Minotaur's twisted, surrealistic conquests. Like, a pungent scent of burning myrrh and honey clings to the heavy, damp air as the distant sound of a mournful, otherworldly lyre resonates through the misty stillness. Uh, at the center of the palace's grand courtyard lies an impossible, perpetually screaming Delphic tripod, its voice like shattering glass, that somehow fuels the eerie luminescence permeating the air, even as the faint, silvery glow of a lunar eclipse looms in the darkening sky above.