The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, granite obelisks are piercing through the foggy, salt-scented air of this abandoned, seaside lighthouse station, like... some are still intact, but others have been cracked in two, revealing smooth, rounded cores. The still, damp air's got this faint electric charge that's making my skin prickle. Water's flowing upwards through the structure's foundation, pooling around these... these tiny, crystal-tipped snail shells that seem to be pulling the liquid in through some unseen force. Outside, the early evening sky's a pale orange, with seagulls wheeling above in the distance, while the setting sun casts a warm, diffuse glow.