DX01: SINGULARITY 18685
The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rough, weathered stone tiles blanket the ground as a dense thicket of brambles and ancient, overgrown grapevines spills down a series of tiered, earthen ledges, each ledge containing a single, intricately carved dolmen – their weathered stone surfaces reflecting a faint, soft light filtering through a blanket of high-altitude cirrus clouds. A low-pressure front must be passing through as the air feels... heavy, and charged with an electric, anticipation-like, tension, smelling of ozone and damp soil as, like, umm... massive, unworked chunks of frankincense just start materializing mid-air, suspended above the ledges before gently falling onto the dolmens. A tiny, impossible wooden door somehow embedded into the base of a nearby vine trunk swings open and shut, creaking with a worn leather hinge. The air's silent except for a low, vibrating hum, like far-off thunder.
