DX01: SINGULARITY 19388

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Crimson-colored stalactites hang from the low ceiling of a cave, slowly dripping a viscous, honey-like liquid that pools and solidifies on the stone floor. The air's thick with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and the stillness is oppressive, with a low hum of energy vibrating through the air, like the reverberation of a thousand singing bowls. Umm, a series of cryptic, cuneiform inscriptions etched into the walls seem to be shifting, rewriting themselves in a language that looks suspiciously like Akkadian. Outside, I can hear the sound of a waterfall flowing upwards.