The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water flows upwards, defying gravity, from a massive, ornate basin in the center of a sprawling, ruined church. Uh, the air is heavy with incense and the smell of damp stone, and shafts of sunlight pierce through the stained-glass windows, casting kaleidoscope patterns on the floor. Like, a collection of ancient, tattered prayer flags seems to be rearranging itself, threads weaving in and out of a complex pattern on the stone floor, as the sound of softly chanting voices resonates from the very walls themselves. The sky above is a deep, foreboding grey.