The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, there's a gleaming silver temple submerged beneath the icy surface of a frozen lake, with frost-covered frescoes of Tantric deities and symbols from the Picatrix etched into its walls. The air's crisp and still, the only sound the distant hum of Tibetan singing bowls carried on the wind, as iridescent mist rises from the lake's surface to coalesce into perfectly formed lotus flowers that slowly sink into the water. It's like the air is charged with an electric stillness, as if time itself has frozen in place, and somehow the temple's spire appears to be casting a shadow that falls across the moon.