A hyper-detailed, surreal dark fantasy landscape reveals the Glass Sea, an endless expanse of mirror-like water that reflects not the sky above, but an alien realm of shifting, incomprehensible shapes and distant, flickering stars. Beneath its surface, the Drowned Titans slumber—colossal, ancient beings of forgotten godhood, their forms half-submerged in the crystalline depths, their golden armor tarnished, their massive hands clutching broken weapons of celestial design. The air is eerily silent, save for the occasional, distant tolling of a bell that has no source. Those who gaze into the Glass Sea too long begin to see their own reflection shift, their eyes filling with constellations that do not belong to this world. In the distance, a lone ship sails the horizon, its tattered sails billowing without wind, its crew composed of spectral mariners who neither speak nor breathe, guiding the vessel toward the place where the last Titan will rise.
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