The Skulls of Paris

John Constantine slumped against the cold, damp stone wall, his back pressed against the macabre display of skulls that seemed to stare back at him with empty, bony eyes. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, and the flickering torches that lined the walls cast eerie shadows on the walls of the Paris Catacombs. The weight of the city's secrets seemed to press down on him, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched by unseen eyes. The whispers of the damned echoed through the tunnels, and Constantine's gut told him that he was getting close to something - but what, he had no idea. This was his kind of place - a place where the living and the dead blurred together, and the line between reality and madness was thin indeed.

[Workflow: JC created with Copilot prompt, then I sourced a catacombs image from the web, masked merged together with other Fx work, laid on some damaged photo distress.]