A Gothic beauty with long straight black hair froze at the moment of the magical
A Gothic beauty with long straight black hair froze at the moment of the magical ritual: her hands are raised up, fingers are gracefully curved, as if absorbing energy from the surrounding space. His left palm is open to the sky, and a smoky purple energy cord stretches from it, intertwining with shadows. His right hand is turned sideways, his long pointed nails are covered with shimmering runic symbols, and a crystal dagger is clutched between his fingers, dotted with cracks with an internal glow. Her pose is a balance between prayerful concentration and threat: her body is slightly tilted back, as if pushing off from an invisible gust of wind, her left foot is pushed forward, piercing the ice with a sharp heel. The wide sleeves of the cloak, embroidered with silver cobwebs, fall down, exposing thin but sinewy forearms with black silk bandages. On her wrists are wristbands with miniature skulls hanging, swinging to the beat of her breathing. The background billows like a magical whirlwind: fragments of Gothic arches swirl in the air, mixing with the falling snow, turning to ashes at her feet. There is a double glow in the eyes: the pupils are like charcoal slits in the blood-red irises. The low angle highlights the monumentality, and the contrast between her pale skin and dark magic creates the effect of a living statue awakening for battle.
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A Gothic beauty with long straight black hair froze at the moment of the magical ritual: her hands are raised up, fingers are gracefully curved, as if absorbing energy from the surrounding space. His left palm is open to the sky, and a smoky purple energy cord stretches from it, intertwining with shadows. His right hand is turned sideways, his long pointed nails are covered with shimmering runic symbols, and a crystal dagger is clutched between his fingers, dotted with cracks with an internal glow. Her pose is a balance between prayerful concentration and threat: her body is slightly tilted back, as if pushing off from an invisible gust of wind, her left foot is pushed forward, piercing the ice with a sharp heel. The wide sleeves of the cloak, embroidered with silver cobwebs, fall down, exposing thin but sinewy forearms with black silk bandages. On her wrists are wristbands with miniature skulls hanging, swinging to the beat of her breathing. The background billows like a magical whirlwind: fragments of Gothic arches swirl in the air, mixing with the falling snow, turning to ashes at her feet. There is a double glow in the eyes: the pupils are like charcoal slits in the blood-red irises. The low angle highlights the monumentality, and the contrast between her pale skin and dark magic creates the effect of a living statue awakening for battle.
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