DX01: SINGULARITY 33270

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A decrepit, centuries-old monastery clings to the edge of a mist-shrouded cliff, its stone walls cracked and worn, the windows like empty eyes staring out into the fog. The air reeks of damp earth and mold, the stillness oppressive, like the whole place is holding its breath in anticipation of something. On a battered, old-fashioned pulpit, a functional flatscreen TV somehow sprouts from the wooden slats, displaying a scrolling feed of eBay listings for ancient, occult texts and taxidermy animals, like it's a mundane thing. Uh, a mangled drone lies tangled in the TV's cords, partially buried in the dusty floorboards.