The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A massive, cyclopean library sprawls out beneath a sickly yellow sky, the air thick with the smell of old leather and parchment... Shelves upon shelves of ancient tomes, like, bound in some kind of scaly, iridescent material, just keep duplicating, spilling more and more books into my exhausted brain. Uh, some of the tomes seem to be absorbing the shadows around them, making these little voids in the light that are really screwing with my already-blurry vision. In the center of the library, the statue of a winged, lion-like creature is perpetually giving birth to a smaller version of itself.