DX01: SINGULARITY 33947

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Gnarled, crimson-colored trees, like twisted, arthritic fingers, erupt from the ground, their bark seething with a viscous, iridescent resin. The air's heavy with the scent of myrrh and ozone, the stillness punctuated by the faint, low-frequency hum of the trees, which seem to be generating a localized distortion of the gravitational field, causing the surrounding foliage to lean inward, as if being drawn into some unseen vortex. Uh, the sky above is a deep, burning crimson, like the aftermath of some catastrophic event, and it's simultaneously dawn and dusk. Shadows cast by the trees seem to be moving of their own accord.