The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, crystalline stalactites burst out of a ceiling that appears to be made of some sort of primordial, oil-slick substance, casting geometric patterns on the walls of what looks like a massive, abandoned cathedral. The air's heavy with the scent of frankincense and is eerily still, like the atmosphere's being held in place by an invisible force field. Outside, through the shattered stained-glass windows, I see the sky is a deep shade of indigo despite the apparent noon hour, and the trees in the nearby forest seem to be moving of their own accord, like they're being rearranged.