Studio Ghibli Dark Fairytale, A super close-up portrait of a malevolent shadow being, its silhouette razor-sharp yet almost featureless—humanoid in outline, but unnaturally still. No face. No mouth. No nose. Just an obsidian-like surface, matte and rippling faintly, as if carved from darkness itself. Two glowing white eyes—perfectly round and expressionless—float where a face should be, steady and unblinking, casting a faint glow onto the smooth void around them. There is no emotion in the eyes, only intention. Cold, observing, calculating. A faint shimmer of movement coils around the figure’s neckline: a tattered, high-collared cloak made of shadowstuff, moving in slow motion as though underwater. Its edges flicker like dying embers in reverse—sucking in light instead of casting it. Around the figure’s head, the lighting is precise and moody: a single backlight cuts through a fine mist, drawing out the curve of the skull and the chilling geometry of its presence. The background fades into a murky swirl of stormclouds and ancient stone. Nothing distracts from the figure. It says nothing. It does nothing. But it is terrifyingly present—like the moment before a curse is spoken or a soul is undone.