DX01: SINGULARITY 35904

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Crystalline icicles dangle from the eaves of a tiny, abandoned Russian Orthodox church in the middle of a vast, frozen tundra, its wooden exterior bleached white from the elements. The air's heavy with the scent of damp fur, and a low hum, like a bass note, vibrates through my chest, uh, it's dawn, judging by the pale sun peeking over the horizon. The church's windows seem to be absorbing light, creating an odd, muted gloom that feels almost solid. Snowflakes fall upwards, forming tiny, swirling columns that hover above the ground.