A dark, hooded figure with glowing red eyes stands in a field of wildflowers by the ocean under a pastel sky, with purple mist at its feet.

On a serene hillside bathed in soft, pastel lofi hues, a small figure stands out starkly against the dreamy landscape. The hill rolls gently toward a distant ocean, whose surface glimmers in tranquil waves of cotton-candy pink and seafoam teal. Wisps of breeze carry the scent of salt and wildflowers, as the sky above fades from buttery peach near the horizon to a calm lavender-blue overhead. Everything feels quiet, gentle, and sun-kissed — as though captured in a watercolor painting. But amidst this soft serenity is a striking anomaly. The figure is shrouded in a voluminous, baggy reaper cloak — a flowing mass of absolute Vantablack so dark it seems to swallow the light around it. The cloak's fabric is impossibly soft and fluid, yet unnaturally dense, moving with an eerie stillness that suggests an absence rather than a presence. No features can be seen beneath the hood; instead, there is only a void — complete darkness, punctuated by two glowing red eyes that pierce through the shadows like twin embers. A subtle, ominous mist swirls constantly around the figure's feet, rising and curling in gentle eddies. This mist is just as dark as the cloak but edged with a faint, luminous purple border that pulses slowly, like the soft glow of distant lightning behind clouds. Despite the figure’s small stature, its presence feels monumental — an otherworldly contrast to the light, airy landscape surrounding it. It doesn’t speak. It doesn’t move. It simply watches, an enigmatic sentinel See more