The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Shit... a colossal, stone lighthouse somehow rises out of a sea of jagged, crystal shards that reflect the pale, setting sun's light in a million directions. Uh, the air's so still that I can hear my own labored breathing, and this heavy scent of salt and smoke is making my head spin. The sky above is a deep, burnt orange, with massive storm clouds brewing on the horizon, their movements somehow in sync with the lighthouse's pulsing lantern – which appears to be drawing a slow, deliberate pattern across the surface of the moon.