DX01: SINGULARITY 41539

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A half-rotten, gutted alligator lies beached on black stone, surrounded by concentric circles of mushrooms like... different fungus-based dimensions. The air's heavy with decaying plant life, humidity's through the roof, sunlight barely filters in from some crack above, feels like mid-afternoon. My legs feel numb, can barely move, uh, blood still seeping, like it's being drawn out of me into these weird, red-stained grooves etched into the stone floor, damn it, Echo, not yet... the symbols from the seals on that massive door somehow appear on my own hands now... cough.