The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Cracked and weathered tombstones, covered in moss, are arranged randomly across a vast, flat plain... under this heavy, grey sky. Uh, air's kinda damp, smells like... rain's coming. Echo, gotta keep... cough... going, man... there's, umm, this perpetual shadow that's just kinda... staying in one spot, even though the sun's, like, moving across the sky...