DX01: SINGULARITY 16108
The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A half-destroyed, Baroque-era chapel lies in shambles, its intricately carved pulpit smeared with what looks like dried, blackened egg yolk and shards of stained glass littering the blood-soaked flagstones. The air's heavy with the stench of rot and smoke, and the silence is only broken by the faint creak of twisted, charred wooden beams still smoldering from some long-forgotten fire. Outside, a perpetual twilight sky hangs like a diseased shroud, and what looks like a kilometers-wide, geometric diagram of the Kabbalistic Tree of Life seems to be physically seared into the clouds like a branding iron. Umm, a flock of ravens silently circle the wreckage, their feathers slick with what appears to be liquid silver.
