The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Gigantic, weathered, limestone arches rise from a dense thicket of frozen, crystalline ferns, like... they're coated in a layer of glittering frost that somehow seems to be suspended a fraction of a millimeter above their surfaces. The air's crisp and clean, with an electric charge that makes the fine hairs on your skin stand on end, and a faint, tangy smell of ozone hangs in the stillness. Shards of splintered stone and frost-encrusted pinecones slowly circle the arches, tracing perfectly circular paths without any visible force propelling them. The pale sunlight casts an ethereal glow on the frost.