In the heart of a damp graveyard, the air is thick with the scent of wet earth and decaying leaves. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting an eerie silver light that glimmers off the puddles of standing water scattered across the uneven ground. Shadows dance between the crooked tombstones, their inscriptions worn and faded over time.
John Constantine stands at the center of this desolate scene, his trench coat clinging to him, heavy with moisture. His expression is intense concentration, eyes narrowed as he focuses on the incantation swirling in his mind. The dampness of the graveyard seems to amplify the tension in the air, a palpable energy crackling around him.With a swift motion, he raises his left hand, and flames erupt from his palm, bright and fierce against the darkness. The fire flickers and roars, casting a warm glow that momentarily banishes the shadows. The flames dance with a life of their own, illuminating the intricate symbols he has drawn in the mud at his feet—runes of protection and binding, glowing faintly in response to the fire.
As he chants the spell, the flames twist and spiral, forming shapes that flicker like ghosts in the night. The water around him ripples, reflecting the fiery light and creating a surreal tableau of fire and water. The graveyard seems to hold its breath, the only sound the crackling of the flames and the distant rustle of leaves in the wind.
Constantine's voice rises above the stillness, a gritty determination lacing his words. He knows the stakes are high; the forces he is summoning are not to be trifled with. The flames intensify, casting long shadows stretching across the gravestones as if the spirits of the dead are drawn to his power. In this moment, he is both a sorcerer and a soldier, standing resolute against the darkness that threatens to engulf him.
[Workflow: Mulitple images were created from a dozen Tengr image prompts, which I then spliced together and did my usual post-edits for clean-ups, texture fixing, and other filtering tweaks.]
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