<lora:ck-dune-style_r1-000017:1>, ckdunestyle, ckmoviestyle, A vast throne room of obsidian and gold stretches into infinity, its towering columns wrapped in shimmering metallic banners. A ruler, adorned in flowing silk robes that shift like liquid in the dim torchlight, sits motionless upon a throne of sculpted black stone. His advisors, dressed in rigid ceremonial armor, stand in silent formation, their visors obscuring their expressions. At the chamber’s edge, a lone figure kneels—cloaked in shadow—whispering a prophecy that could shape the fate of empires. Smoke drifts lazily from braziers of molten incense, curling through the air like forgotten prayers. The light is eerie, a fusion of cold twilight blues and the molten glow of deep orange embers. The scene radiates a sense of intrigue and power, a moment frozen in time before destiny unfolds.