The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, sunlight's filtering through the stained glass windows of a medieval apothecary, casting a kaleidoscope of colors on a collection of dusty, antique jars filled with weird, unidentifiable specimens. The air's thick with the smell of myrrh and something else... slightly acidic. A bunch of tarantulas are slowly weaving a tapestry on a wooden loom, like they're following some intricate pattern, while outside, a frozen storm seems to be stuck in place, the ice crystals suspended mid-air, unmoving. The air inside is heavy, like the pressure's slightly off.