The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, sunlight's streaming through the stained glass ceiling of a vast, abandoned cathedral, casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the floor, which is covered in a thick layer of iridescent, glittering dust that's somehow not getting disturbed by the gentle breeze rustling the remains of old, tattered tapestries hanging from the walls. The air's heavy with the scent of frankincense and something sweetly metallic, and it's charged with a weird, almost electric anticipation that's making the hairs on my arms stand up. A flock of rainbow-plumed birds is flying in impossible, perfectly synchronized spirals around a central, gemstone-encrusted pillar.