The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water's flowing upwards from a stagnant lake, and the air smells like burnt wood. My body's shutting down, muscles turning to stone... the sun's low in the sky, casting a weak light on mountains made of compacted, ancient plant matter that are slowly rotating. The air's really still, like there's no wind at all, and... trees are made of a substance that's somehow absorbing the lake's upwards-flowing water, umm, silently.