DX01: SINGULARITY 24854

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, blood-stained ice is piled up in a decrepit ice rink, the surface cracked and uneven, with rusting hockey goal frames tangled in crystalline formations that are somehow seeping upward from the ice itself, like they're being pulled by an invisible force. The air's thick with a stench of decay, and it's freezing, with a pale, diffuse light filtering through the grimy skylights above. The binary suns are low in the sky, casting long, eerie shadows across the rink, and the silence is oppressive, punctuated only by a faint, perpetual creaking of the old wooden beams...