The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, light's filtering through stained glass panels in a dome above, casting multicolored patterns on a miniature replica of the Kabbalistic tree of life etched into the floor of a large, empty conservatory. Air's warm, humid, and still, with a sweet, floral scent. The branches of the tree seem to be... unraveling into threads that are weaving themselves into the fibers of the stained glass, repairing cracks and imperfections in real-time. Outside, I can hear the gentle hum of what sounds like a swarm of iridescent bees hovering just beyond the glass walls.