The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Grotesque, bulbous growths - like fungal infections - are covering most of the ornate stone facades in this abandoned, Byzantine-style church, their thick, waxy secretions dripping slowly onto the cracked tile floor. The air's heavy with incense and the scent of overripe fruit, and it feels weirdly pressurized, like a storm's about to break, even though the sky outside is clear blue. Uh, rays of light filtering through the grimy stained-glass windows are illuminating cryptic symbols etched into the walls, somehow rearranging themselves in sync with the growths' pulsing, rhythmic contractions.