DX01: SINGULARITY 33058

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tendrils of fog spill out of a massive, abandoned glasshouse like ghostly fingers, shrouding the overgrown gardens in a damp, chilly mist. Umm, air's heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, the stillness punctuated by the occasional creak of rusty hinges. A delicate, filigree-patterned weather vane atop the glasshouse seems to be drawing the fog inwards, condensing it into droplets that fill a series of crystal flasks hanging from the rafters, as if the mist itself is being harvested like a crop. Outside, dark storm clouds gather, thunder rumbling distantly like the growl of a predator.