DX01: SINGULARITY 16257

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, there's this decrepit, old-growth cathedral half-buried in a swampy morass, water lilies crawling up its weathered stone façade like grasping fingers. Air's thick with the stench of rotting plant matter, humidity's choking... probably mid-morning, judging by the hazy sun position. A half-dozen disembodied, rotting deer heads seem to be... screaming, somehow, as if their vocal cords were still attached, and a guttural, subsonic vibration hums in resonance, like the swamp itself was growling back in harmony.