The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, sunlight's pouring through a stained-glass window depicting some sort of...alchemical process, casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the polished obsidian floor of a narrow, hexagonal chamber. Air's heavy with frankincense and myrrh, and it feels like there's a low-pressure system brewing outside, judging by the way the candle flames are dancing. In the center of the room, a large, ornate clockwork orrery's quietly ticking away, somehow perfectly synchronized with the rhythmic pulsations of a gelatinous, iridescent orb suspended from the ceiling, which is, like, slowly devouring the stone above it.