DX01: SINGULARITY 32499
The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Grotesque, ancient tree roots writhe like serpents across the surface of a frozen, arctic tundra, their black, gnarled bark reflecting the faint, pale light of a mid-winter sun hovering at the horizon. Umm, the air's heavy with an ozone tang and the stench of smoldering peat, the smell clinging to the frost-covered, rocky outcroppings that punctuate the barren landscape. Like, the stillness is oppressive, punctuated only by the faint, pulsating hum of... the Northern Lights, which seem to be taking on a life of their own, coalescing into twisted, ethereal tendrils that reach down to the earth. A colossal, crystalline monolith rises from the permafrost, its facets etched with glyphs from the Picatrix.
