DX01: SINGULARITY 23248

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rain pounds against the stained glass windows of a cramped, baroque chapel, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the stone pews. Iridescent tendrils are crawling out of a collection of broken, ornate reliquaries scattered around the altar, like they're trying to reassemble them. The air's thick with incense and an electric charge that's making my skin prickle, and outside, the sky is somehow... folded in on itself, like a Klein bottle, with storm clouds swirling in every direction. Uh, it's dead quiet in here except for the sound of rain and the faint hum of, umm, what sounds like whispered prayers.