DX01: SINGULARITY 20832

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Snowflakes gently fall around a massive, ornate door in the middle of a barren, frozen tundra, the air crisp and biting cold. Umm, the door's covered in intricate carvings of vines and flowers, and it's... somehow made of solid, glittering ice that doesn't seem to be melting or showing any signs of stress, despite the door being at least three times my height. A small, leather-bound book lies open on a nearby rock, its pages turning slowly in the still air as if an unseen force is reading it. The sun's low in the sky, casting long shadows across the snow.