DX01: SINGULARITY 33716

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Frosted, crimson-hued stalactites hang like jagged fangs from a cave's domed ceiling, umm, their bases rooted deep in the dark, glittering stone. The air is heavy with ozone and the scent of burnt copper, its electric charge making the hairs on the back of... arms stand on end, and the stillness is oppressive, like being in the eye of a hurricane. Outside, the sky seems a deep, bloody red, casting a crimson glow through the cave's entrance. A tiny, silver locket somehow orbits a rough-hewn stone pedestal, passing through its center as if solid matter were a fluid.