DX01: SINGULARITY 03177

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Towering, sentinel-like cacti rise from a sea of crimson sand, their thick, waxy spines somehow perfectly resonating the bass notes of an unheard melody. Like, the air's heavy with the scent of mesquite smoke, and a thin, cirrus-like haze hangs above the dunes, refracting the pale, apricot light of the setting sun. In the distance, the skeletal remains of some ancient, long-forgotten cathedral seem to be... growing a new, living skin of iridescent mother-of-pearl that's slowly consuming the weathered stones, while above, a squadron of ghostly, silver birds fly in perfect synchrony, leaving no contrails.