The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Shards of stained glass are scattered across a dusty, abandoned conservatory, casting kaleidoscope patterns on the ground as sunlight filters through the remaining panes. The air is thick with the scent of overripe fruit and a hint of bergamot, while a low hum of...like, an electric charge seems to emanate from the rusty framework. Outside, snowflakes are slowly falling upwards, forming into small, delicate drifts on the underside of the glass roof. In the center of the room, an ancient orrery sits on a cracked stone pedestal, its intricately carved wooden gears ticking away as it charts the movements of stars that no longer exist.