DX01: SINGULARITY 18691

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Ancient, weathered stones somehow seamlessly merge into rough, silver tree trunks, their thick, twisted branches tangled above like a frozen avalanche. The air's heavy with the scent of ozone-free lightning and damp soil, and water trickles out of small, crystal-lined fissures in the stone, quietly forming a crystal-clear river that, uh, just freezes into an unmelting ice sheet at seemingly random intervals. A delicate network of fungal hyphae, etched with the Elder Futhark, somehow maintains a constant, unexplained, gentle tug on every object in the area.