DX01: SINGULARITY 40027

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, there's a chunk of jagged, mirror-like obsidian jutting out of the ground, partially submerged in this...this slow-moving lake of pitch-black, viscous liquid that stretches out as far as I can see. The air's heavy with the smell of char and something metallic, and the sky's this deep, bloody red color - like it's late afternoon or something. A flock of pure white swans is somehow skating across the surface of the lake, leaving behind trails of perfectly intact, antique clockwork mechanisms in their wake. Umm, my vision's getting a little fuzzy again...