The Tower of Babel, an immense spiraling ziggurat of sunbaked bricks and black tar mortar, stretches toward the heavens, its weathered surface covered in intricate carvings. Wooden scaffolding clings to its massive sides as exhausted workers haul materials ever higher. The top of the tower vanishes into swirling storm clouds, crackling with energy—but something unnatural lingers in the sky. Around it, sleek, alien aircraft hover, their metallic surfaces gleaming with eerie, pulsing lights. Unlike anything known to humanity, these hovering crafts emit a low, resonant hum, disrupting the air around them. Some seem to be observing the structure, scanning its unfinished peak, while others glide in synchronized patterns, almost as if orchestrating an unknown purpose. Their presence is both ominous and mesmerizing, an undeniable intrusion into this ancient world. Below, the once- unified workforce descends into chaos—words twist into unfamiliar languages, tools are abandoned, and fear spreads as the sky is filled with the silent, watching machines. The city of Shinar fractures, its people scattering in terror, leaving behind an unfinished monument—one that no longer belongs to them alone. Ultra- detailed, cinematic lighting, ancient- futuristic fusion, dramatic biblical atmosphere, alien spacecraft hovering, moody and epic composition
