A young woman stands alone on a narrow cliff path shrouded in drifting fog
A young woman stands alone on a narrow cliff path shrouded in drifting fog. She is cloaked in tattered gray robes, her hood drawn low, yet her face is gently lit by the faint glow of a lantern cradled close to her chest. The lantern burns not with fire, but with a soft blue light, like a captured star or a soul's breath. Her bare feet are dusted with frost; behind her, the mountain path vanishes into mist and forgotten time. Her posture is quiet but unwavering, as if listening to a voice far older than the world. Around her, the ruins of an ancient observatory crumble, their stones etched with constellations no longer known. High above, a single star pierces the veil of fog. She walks not to escape—but to remember. No text. No symbols. Just her.
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A young woman stands alone on a narrow cliff path shrouded in drifting fog. She is cloaked in tattered gray robes, her hood drawn low, yet her face is gently lit by the faint glow of a lantern cradled close to her chest. The lantern burns not with fire, but with a soft blue light, like a captured star or a soul's breath. Her bare feet are dusted with frost; behind her, the mountain path vanishes into mist and forgotten time. Her posture is quiet but unwavering, as if listening to a voice far older than the world. Around her, the ruins of an ancient observatory crumble, their stones etched with constellations no longer known. High above, a single star pierces the veil of fog. She walks not to escape—but to remember. No text. No symbols. Just her.
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