DX01: SINGULARITY 23936

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A low-hanging, churning vortex of dense, turquoise fog clings to the floor of a derelict, subterranean amphitheater, tendrils of mist creeping up worn, stone seats like it's alive... Air's heavy with the scent of damp stone and mold, the stillness of the air broken by the faint hum of the earth. The sound of gentle lapping echoes off the walls as if there's a nearby body of water, but there's no sign of any. Water from an invisible source is somehow constantly wetting the seats, which are somehow growing thick, vibrant green moss despite the lack of light.