The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water's dripping slowly from the intricate stone carvings of mythical creatures on the ceiling of a massive, abandoned grotto. Like, the air's warm and humid, with a sweet, floral scent, and the sound of distant, crashing waves is echoing off the rough, crystalline walls. Umm, a beam of sunlight's filtering through a small opening above, illuminating a delicate, frost-covered spider web that's somehow woven itself into the threads of a discarded, antique tapestry, which appears to be mending its own torn edges. Outside, the sun is hovering just above the horizon.