The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Frosty mist swirls around a centuries-old, abandoned monastery perched on a precipice overlooking an endless, glittering sea of frozen methane. Like, the air inside the crumbling structure is heavy with the scent of damp stone, incense, and something faintly metallic, while the silence is broken only by the soft creaking of wooden beams. Snowflakes fall upwards from the stone floor, gathering in an impossible whirlwind that seems to fuel the flames dancing within the frozen hearth, despite the utter stillness of the air. Outside, the crimson-hued sun hangs low in a black sky.