DX01: SINGULARITY 41546

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Like, pale morning sun hits dusty, uneven shelves, and air's thick with the smell of worn leather. Shelves upon shelves of books and folders and binders, all stretching upwards to just touch some uneven, dark-colored stone... and every so often, books have no spines, but, uh, pieces of bone showing on the edges. It's silent, only thing that breaks the silence is an extremely slow and massive wing - somehow invisible - pushing down from the very top of this cave or room... or whatever.