null forbidden words

    a voluptuous, green-skinned nun in a ripped, filth-streaked habit, her eyes glowing pink as she preaches to a congregation of oozing, slug-like cultists, neon-green slime dripping from her lips as she utters forbidden words, massive corrupted stained glass behind her depicting twisted saints with too many eyes, dungeon punk aesthetic, high-contrast sickly neon colors, bold black outlines, chaotic and gritty texture, occult energy crackling in the air, her exposed tattoos pulsating with forbidden knowledge
    A professional photograph of Inside a decrepit, ivy-covered tower that rises crookedly from the middle of an overgrown graveyard, a witch with sunken, pale skin and violet hair stands over an ancient tome. The pages of the book, bound in dark leather, glow with a sinister red light as she whispers words of a forbidden spell. Her eyes, as black as onyx, reflect the flickering light of the many candles surrounding her, their flames dancing as if alive to the rhythm of her chant. Her bony fingers, adorned with rings made from bone and crystal, trace the arcane symbols in the air, causing the air around her to shimmer with unseen energy. The walls of the tower are lined with shelves filled with ancient scrolls, dried herbs, and jars of strange, glowing liquids. Outside the tower’s single, narrow window, the sky is a swirling mass of storm clouds, lightning occasionally illuminating the tombstones that litter the ground below. The witch’s black robes billow out as the air grows heavier with magic, the tower itself seeming to hum in response to her dark power. From the shadows, ghostly faces flicker in and out of sight, drawn to her as she pulls on the strings of the spirit world.<lora:aidmaMJ6.1-FLUX-V0.1:0.6><lora:Movie_Portrait><lora:Flux DetailerV2>
    The warlock stands in the center of an ancient, rune-inscribed circle, the air thick with the scent of incense and the crackle of dark magic. Cloaked in tattered robes, his hands tremble as he raises a gnarled staff, its tip glowing with a sickly green light. His eyes are wide with intense focus, the faint glow of infernal power reflecting off his pupils. Around him, the air begins to distort, swirling with dark energy. The ground rumbles as the arcane symbols beneath him glow brighter, casting eerie shadows across the desolate landscape. He murmurs a chant in an ancient tongue, the words twisted and guttural, carrying a weight of forbidden power. The fabric of reality begins to tear, and from the abyss, a presence stirs. A deep, guttural growl emanates from the darkening void. The warlock’s grip tightens on his staff as the first glimpse of the demon emerges—eyes like burning coals, a form hulking and monstrous, its skin cracked like molten rock. Massive horns curl from its head, and jagged claws tear through the air as it steps into the world, its form pulsing with infernal energy. The warlock’s lips curl into a wicked grin as the demon towers over him. The ritual is complete. Bound by his will, the demon kneels before him, an unwilling servant to its summoner’s power.

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