A massive gothic archway sculpted into the form of a screaming mouth, its jagged fangs forming the entrance to an ancient, forgotten cathedral. The weathered stone appears almost alive, its cracked lips frozen mid-scream, eyes hollow voids staring into eternity. Before this ominous threshold stands a dark priest, clad in an opulent yet tattered cassock adorned with intricate gold embroidery. His face is solemn, partially shadowed beneath the high collar of his ceremonial robes. In his gloved hand, he holds an aged candle, its flame flickering faintly, casting long, wavering shadows against the towering stone visage. The air is thick with mist, curling around the priest’s feet like restless spirits, partially obscuring the worn cobblestone path leading into the abyss. Above, the sky churns with deep purples and spectral blues, distant lightning illuminating gothic spires that stretch endlessly into the void. The cathedral looms beyond the gateway, its towering silhouette barely visible through the haze, a structure seemingly untouched by time yet consumed by an ancient, watchful presence. The oppressive silence is suffocating, as if the very air holds its breath, waiting