The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tendrils of morning glory vines have overgrown an ancient, water-eroded pagoda, its wooden beams worn smooth like polished bone. The air's thick with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and an unbroken sheet of water spills from the pagoda's upper tier, cascading silently down its flanks. Uh, the sky above is a deep, burning crimson, and the stillness is so complete I can hear the gentle hum of what appears to be a spinning top hovering at the center of the pagoda – it's somehow maintaining a perfect, stationary rotation despite being completely submerged in water.