DX01: SINGULARITY 23932

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Grotesque, gnawed-out tree trunks are half-buried in a sea of pale, iridescent feathers that stretch as far as the eye can see. Umm, the air's heavy with the scent of damp earth and mold, and the feathers seem to be... growing, tendrils of downy fluff slowly unfurling like they're alive. The sky above is a deep, bloody red, with the sun hanging low and bloated, its light casting long shadows across the feathers, which are somehow reflecting a distorted, fractal pattern that seems to be shifting and flowing like a liquid. Like, it's really quiet, the only sound the soft rustling of the feathers.