Arafed image of a creepy looking room with a pentagram

(best quality, 128k,highres,masterpiece:1.2),ultra-detailed,(realistic,photorealistic,photo-realistic:1.37), ((masterpiece)) ((photography)) ((Highest quality)) A pitch-black, windowless basement reeking of death and decay, its damp stone walls covered in grotesque carvings of twisted faces frozen in silent screams. The floor is smeared with dark, dried blood forming chaotic, ancient sigils, pulsating as if alive. At the center, a massive pentagram is carved deep into the ground, its grooves filled with a thick, oozing black substance. A towering altar of rotting bones and skulls stands at the far end, its surface drenched in fresh blood, with an ancient, torn book open to unreadable, demonic scripture. Around it, grotesque dolls made of human flesh and stitched with black thread dangle from rusted chains, their hollow eye sockets oozing a dark liquid. A broken mirror leans against the wall, its cracked surface reflecting a figure that isn't there—its glowing, hollow eyes locked onto the viewer. Beings crafted entirely from swirling, opaque shadows lurk ominously in the deepest corners, their eerie, undefined forms shifting and twisting in the dim light. The only source of illumination is a single flickering candle atop a rickety wooden table, its flame casting distorted shadows that seem to stretch and whisper. The shadowy entities appear to watch, their glinting, unnatural eyes filled with an otherworldly intelligence, their whispers merging with the distant echoes of guttural growls vibrating through the room. The air is thick with sulfur and rotting flesh, suffocating and oppressive. Shadows slither unnaturally along the walls, stretching and writhing like living entities
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(best quality, 128k,highres,masterpiece:1.2),ultra-detailed,(realistic,photorealistic,photo-realistic:1.37), ((masterpiece)) ((photography)) ((Highest quality)) A pitch-black, windowless basement reeking of death and decay, its damp stone walls covered in grotesque carvings of twisted faces frozen in silent screams. The floor is smeared with dark, dried blood forming chaotic, ancient sigils, pulsating as if alive. At the center, a massive pentagram is carved deep into the ground, its grooves filled with a thick, oozing black substance.
A towering altar of rotting bones and skulls stands at the far end, its surface drenched in fresh blood, with an ancient, torn book open to unreadable, demonic scripture. Around it, grotesque dolls made of human flesh and stitched with black thread dangle from rusted chains, their hollow eye sockets oozing a dark liquid. A broken mirror leans against the wall, its cracked surface reflecting a figure that isn't there—its glowing, hollow eyes locked onto the viewer.
Beings crafted entirely from swirling, opaque shadows lurk ominously in the deepest corners, their eerie, undefined forms shifting and twisting in the dim light. The only source of illumination is a single flickering candle atop a rickety wooden table, its flame casting distorted shadows that seem to stretch and whisper. The shadowy entities appear to watch, their glinting, unnatural eyes filled with an otherworldly intelligence, their whispers merging with the distant echoes of guttural growls vibrating through the room.
The air is thick with sulfur and rotting flesh, suffocating and oppressive. Shadows slither unnaturally along the walls, stretching and writhing like living entities
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