The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dusty, yellow light filters through a massive, stained-glass dome above, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across a sprawling, abandoned monastery. Umm, the air's heavy with incense, and the smell of old parchment lingers, but somehow, it's being overpowered by the scent of saltwater... even though I'm pretty sure I'm not near the ocean. Rain pounds against the glass above, and outside, an endless storm rages – but in here, a collection of candles burns steadily, arranged around a slowly rotating model of some forgotten celestial body, their flames somehow sculpting the molten wax into intricate, functioning clockwork mechanisms.