DX01: SINGULARITY 01716

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, rough-hewn granite pillars rise out of a sea of burning, molten lead, the air's heavy with the smell of melting metal and smoke. Like, the sky above is a deep, foreboding crimson, with two black suns hanging low on the horizon, their light casting an eerie, reddish-orange glow across the pillars. A series of delicate, crystal filaments are somehow weaving in and out of the molten lead, forming intricate, swirling patterns without appearing to melt or distort. The air's charged with an electric, crackling energy, and it feels like late evening, just before a storm.