A young woman kneels beside a still, black pool beneath a sky scattered with imp
A young woman kneels beside a still, black pool beneath a sky scattered with impossible constellations. She wears a translucent robe that clings like mist, adorned with subtle threads of silver and starlight. Her long hair flows freely, catching the faint wind like a river of night. In each hand she holds a small vessel—one pouring clear water into the pool, the other letting it trickle into the soil, nourishing strange pale flowers blooming in the dark. Her eyes are lifted upward, soft and distant, reflecting a lone star burning brighter than the rest. The ruins of an old city lie half-submerged behind her, forgotten and sleeping. Fireflies drift around her like fragments of a dream. She is the hush that follows sorrow, the quiet renewal. No text. No symbols. Just her.
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A young woman kneels beside a still, black pool beneath a sky scattered with impossible constellations. She wears a translucent robe that clings like mist, adorned with subtle threads of silver and starlight. Her long hair flows freely, catching the faint wind like a river of night. In each hand she holds a small vessel—one pouring clear water into the pool, the other letting it trickle into the soil, nourishing strange pale flowers blooming in the dark. Her eyes are lifted upward, soft and distant, reflecting a lone star burning brighter than the rest. The ruins of an old city lie half-submerged behind her, forgotten and sleeping. Fireflies drift around her like fragments of a dream. She is the hush that follows sorrow, the quiet renewal. No text. No symbols. Just her.
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