An elf with long white hair and glasses plays a stringed instrument in a dark, candlelit stone chamber, with a raven perched nearby and skulls on the floor. In a dark fantasy art style.

A gaunt elf sits alone in the candlelit corner of a ruined stone chamber, the air heavy with dust and memory. His skin is bone-pale, his long white hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck, strands escaping to frame his sharp, tired features. Dark academic robes and a rune-etched breastplate hang loose around his wiry frame, the glint of etched rings and arcane trinkets catching the flickering light. In his hands rests a Viola da Gamba, shaped of dark, weathered wood, its curves delicate and old-world. His fingers, long and steady, draw the bow with practiced precision across the strings, coaxing a low, mournful sound from the instrument—like the echo of a prayer for the dead. His rectangular reading glasses rest low on his nose, eyes half-closed in silent meditation. Behind him, a ghostly raven-shaped silhouette (his familiar, Aknu) perches on a crumbled ledge, its eyes glowing faintly violet. Scattered notes, grimoires, and bone fragments litter the ground, and one candle burns lower than the rest. Shadows flicker along the wall—not just his, but several, cast in impossible angles. The mood is solemn and still. This is no performance. This is remembrance. See more