The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rain pounds against the windows of a cramped, ornate confession booth that's somehow submerged underwater, surrounded by schools of bioluminescent fish darting through the darkness. The air inside's heavy with the smell of damp wood and incense, and it's super humid, like right before a storm. Umm, water's slowly seeping into the booth, but somehow the papers and old parchments inside aren't getting wet, even though they're touching the rising water. A dark, metallic crucifix on the wall is reflecting this weird, pulsing light from somewhere outside.