A hyperrealistic, dystopian landscape where the sun has long since vanished, leaving the world in eternal darkness, illuminated only by the dying embers of civilization. Towering megastructures of molten metal, glowing faintly with dim, fading light, stand against a blackened sky filled with swirling ash and ember storms. The ground is a vast expanse of cracked obsidian, its surface marred by the remnants of forgotten cities, where shattered skyscrapers loom like the skeletal remains of a lost age. Rivers of slowly cooling magma snake through the ruins, casting flickering shadows against the monolithic wreckage of human progress. In this world of endless night, only artificial fire remains as a beacon of survival. The last remnants of humanity gather in cities built atop the remains of supervolcanoes, where geothermal reactors churn out faint heat, and molten towers pulse like dying stars. These last strongholds are ruled by embersmiths, enigmatic figures who wield the last remnants of fire like a sacred force, forging weapons and power sources from the heat trapped within the earth’s core. Above, the sky is a void—a blackened abyss filled with drifting remnants of stars, as if the very universe itself is crumbling. Strange, bioluminescent entities, floating leviathans of darkness, glide silently through the sky, feeding on the last flickers of dying light. Their forms shift, eclipsing entire cityscapes as they move, their hollow eyes watching over a world that has long forgotten the meaning of the sun. The people of this world are cloaked in tattered, heat- resistant garments, their bodies illuminated only by the dim glow of flickering fire lanterns strapped to their belts. Some wear masks of blackened steel, their eyes hidden behind reflective visors that glow faintly with salvaged energy. In their hands, they carry weapons forged from scavenged alloys, blades heated by ember cores, or firearms that launch molten projectiles, designed to keep the darkness at bay. Deep within the ruins of the once- great cities, cults of the Lightless gather, worshiping the eternal void, believing that to embrace the darkness is to become one with the new world. Their skin is painted in ash, their symbols drawn in soot, and their leaders whisper prophecies of a coming age where even fire itself will be extinguished. Yet among them, a lone traveler walks the ruined world—a figure wrapped in heat- scavenged armor, their silhouette outlined by the faint glow of embers embedded in their gauntlets. A warrior of the flame, carrying the last ever- burning torch, a relic said to hold the final spark of the lost sun. As they move through the broken remains of a world that no longer knows the meaning of daylight, their mission is simple: to reignite the sky, or to let the world finally fall into absolute darkness. <lora:aidmaHyperrealism- FLUX- v0. 3:0. 6> <lora:FluxDFaeTasticDetails:0. 4>