DX01: SINGULARITY 07296

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water drips slowly from the lip of a worn, ancient cauldron, suspended by blackened iron chains over a low-burning fire in what looks like a rustic, medieval kitchen. Like, the air's heavy with the scent of old ash and something bitter... maybe wormwood. Umm, the sunlight filtering through the grimy windows casts an eerie glow on the flagstone floor, where a collection of mismatched, antique spoons seem to be arranging themselves in intricate patterns, without any visible force. Outside, a shrill, unearthly whistle pierces the air, loud as a siren.