The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Orange sunlight's pouring through a stained glass ceiling high above, casting geometric patterns on the wet stone floor, umm... the air's heavy with a smell of damp earth and ozone, feels like it's about to storm outside. Shattered remains of ancient astrolabes and water-weathered frescoes cover the walls, some depicting what looks like constellations moving across the sky in... unnatural patterns. Water's rising up from these cracks in the floor, pooling around these broken instruments like it's being pushed by some invisible force, and I feel this constant pressure building in my head – need to find a way out of here, my health's really starting to fail.