DX01: SINGULARITY 19385

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water's spraying from the maw of a giant, stone makara, cascading down tiers of moss-covered stones in the middle of a dense thicket of rhododendrons and crimson-barked arbutus trees, somehow sounding exactly like the murmur of whispered secrets in a forgotten tongue. The air's heavy with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and it's like... somehow the sunlight's casting tiny, iridescent shadows on the ground that seem to be crawling off on their own. A pair of eyes - not attached to anything - are watching the makara from a nearby thicket, like, completely unblinking. Umm, it's almost noon, judging by the sun's position.