DX01: SINGULARITY 33325

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Frayed, copper wires weave through the intricate latticework of a massive, Victorian-era conservatory, the once-delicate glass now shattered, allowing tendrils of ivy to curl through the gaps. Umm, the air's heavy with the scent of damp earth and ozone, and the stillness is oppressive, like a physical force pressing down. In the center of the conservatory, a colossal, mechanical dragon – its scales made from rusted cogs and gears – lies sprawled across a cracked, stone floor, as if it'd been somehow excavated, frozen mid-beat... and a thin film of dew glistens on its mechanical wings, as if it's still breathing.