A vast, desolate desert stretches endlessly, where the golden sands shimmer with an almost unnatural glow under a haunting, clouded sky. The landscape is shaped by the relentless winds, which whip up shifting dunes that form and collapse in a mesmerizing yet unsettling rhythm. The sand feels alive, as though it holds secrets buried deep within, pulsating with subtle patterns that seem to trace forgotten paths. A spectral fog clings to the sand, swirling in an eerie dance, while ethereal, vaporous tendrils of mist rise from the ground, curling and dissipating in mid- air. The atmosphere is thick with a supernatural presence, the silence broken only by the soft, mournful sound of wind shifting over the vast expanse. In the center of this arid wasteland stands an ancient ruin, half- buried in sand. Weathered, cracked stone columns jut from the earth like skeletal remains of a forgotten civilization, their surfaces etched with strange symbols and runes that faintly glow, casting ghostly light through the fog. The remnants of once- grand structures are twisted and crumbled, lost to time and the harsh elements, yet they seem to carry an unspoken weight, a dark memory of some long- forgotten ritual or battle. Where the sand has worn away, jagged, metallic fragments, half- rusted and glinting in the dim light, are exposed—suggesting that this was once a place of both ancient magic and advanced technology. At the heart of this eerie, sunless wasteland, a lone figure draped in dark, tattered robes stands still, watching the horizon with vacant, ghostly eyes. The figure’s form is ethereal, almost translucent, blending with the sand yet standing distinct amidst the decay. There is something haunting about her presence; the hollow expression on her face tells of countless ages spent wandering this forsaken world, a prisoner to its secrets. Her long, flowing hair, now tangled and entwined with sand and wind, seems almost to move with a life of its own, caught between the physical world and some intangible realm beyond. Her robes, tattered and torn, are interwoven with strange, glowing threads, like the last remnants of a forgotten power. As the fog swirls around her, the sands seem to shift, and the very ground beneath her feet groans with a low, mournful sound, as if the desert itself is alive. Above, the sky is a dull, sickly color, its vast emptiness stretching without end. The air is thick, oppressive, with no sign of a rising sun, only the faintest glow from an unseen moon casting distorted shadows across the sand. The atmosphere is laden with the scent of decay and dust, every inch of the landscape feeling untouched, frozen in time by an unseen force. Strange, dark shapes move faintly in the distance, barely visible through the swirling fog—silent and haunting, their movements just outside the realm of the known, as if watching, waiting for something. The desert is alive with an uncanny, unsettling energy. The ground pulses faintly, the rhythm of the sands and mist creating a strange, hypnotic melody. The eeriness of the atmosphere heightens as time feels stretched and fragmented, like an endless loop that spirals into the void. This is a place forgotten by all but the wind, where time and memory are fractured and lost, and where the boundary between life and death, reality and the supernatural, is thin and fragile. Captured in a hyper- realistic style, the scene exudes the cold, haunting beauty of an untouched, forgotten world, with intricate textures of sand, stone, and mist. Every detail—from the glowing symbols on the ruined columns to the eerie, distorted shadows cast by the figure—is designed to evoke a deep sense of mystery and unease. The scene’s mood is amplified by the use of the Sand and Eerie atmosphere Loras, with every element infused with a chilling, otherworldly presence that feels both dreamlike and unnervingly real. ral- sand, ral- ertmsphr, aidmaMJ6. 1