DX01: SINGULARITY 18653

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Ancient, crumbling Assyrian palace ruins stretch across a vast, barren expanse of iridescent salt flats, reflecting the pale, midday sun like a giant mirror. Uh, wisps of smoldering frankincense somehow weave intricate patterns across the ground, avoiding obstacles, as if alive, despite the absolute stillness of the air. Like, the faint hum I've heard before resonates from a massive, granite statue of Pazuzu at the palace's center, which appears to be covered in a fine, pulsating latticework of light that casts no shadows. The air's dry, smelling of ozone-free, heavy petrichor.