A cluster of Fremen warriors stands silently in the shade of a narrow ravine at

a cluster of Fremen warriors stands silently in the shade of a narrow ravine at the edge of a desert escarpment. They wear sand-colored stillsuits with weather-stained robes that blend seamlessly into the rock and dust. Their hoods are partially pulled back, revealing sharp, weathered faces — sun-darkened skin, angular cheekbones, and dust-lined brows. Their glowing blue eyes — irises and whites alike — shine with an otherworldly intensity, casting eerie reflections in the grit-heavy air. Most wear their stillsuit masks lowered to their necks, exposing the tension in their expressions: watchful, skeptical, alert. One figure stands slightly apart — a young woman, calm but commanding, her gaze locked on Paul with unreadable resolve. This is Chani. A crysknife rests in her hand, drawn but not raised. The others are poised and unmoving, like carved stone ready to strike. Heat shimmer blurs the edges of the rock, and a thin curtain of dust drifts between them. From Paul’s perspective, this moment feels like prophecy unfolding — the desert is alive, and the figures before him are both real and mythic. : Dune-inspired, cinematic desert realism, glowing spice eyes, expressive Fremen faces, stillsuit textures, heat distortion, mythic atmosphere, Paul’s POV, reverent and surreal tone, tension and fate woven into the scene.

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