The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dark, angular rocks jut out of the dense fog that coats the barren landscape, heavy with the scent of wet earth and peat. Umm, the ground seems to be seeping with a thick, viscous fluid that's pooling into perfect geometric shapes, reflecting no light despite being seemingly liquid. The air is heavy with moisture and the silence is oppressive, like, the only sound is my own labored breathing. A massive, ancient yew tree appears to be growing its branches into a series of impossible, non-Euclidean knots that seem to be absorbing the surrounding fog.