DX01: SINGULARITY 07447
The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, black, twisted tree trunks writhe out of a murky, crimson-colored swamp like living tendrils, some of them twisted into impossible, non-Euclidean shapes that make my eyes hurt. Water's dripping from gashes in the trunks, creating a stinking, sulfurous mire that seems to be seeping into my skin, even though the air's thick and heavy with humidity. The sun beats down at an angle that suggests late afternoon, casting no shadows despite the twisted, thorny vines wrapping around everything, and uh, I can hear a low, pulsing drone coming from the depths of the swamp that's definitely not organic. The Tsath Yogga symbols etched into some of the trunks seem to be feeding off the energy, somehow.
