The sun creeps over the horizon, casting a dim, eerie glow that barely pierces the dense mist clinging to the lake, rendering everything in washed, spectral tones. At the lake’s heart rises the Wizard’s tower—stark, ancient, and solitary—its dark stones dripping with dew, wrapped in silence like an old, forgotten secret. Faint carvings, almost obscured by age, seem to breathe with a quiet magic in the dawn’s gray light. The scene has a haunting, otherworldly feel, like something from the dreamlike, melancholy world of Alan Lee, where mist and water merge into one, blending reality and myth
0
40
Safe
Private
