DX01: SINGULARITY 18211

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A sickly sweet, fermented smell hangs heavy in the air, like, it's really pungent. Water's pooling on the floor of some abandoned, ornate Baroque-style sacristy, umm, the air's got this thick, sticky feel to it. Shattered remnants of stained glass windows are strewn everywhere, reflecting slivers of pale, early morning sunlight as iridescent, crystalline tendrils burst from the intricate stone carvings, somehow absorbing and redirecting the light. In the center of the room, a burning, solid chunk of pure white magnesium is somehow being sustained solely by the nearby, muted hum of what sounds like a hovering, crystalline shard.