Dense white fog swirls around a weathered city park bench of cracked oak as the Lich King sits, armor and cloak lacquered with frost. He fixates on an abyss yawning in the pavement before him, a shadowed rift pouring nothingness and glassy echoes into the scene. His icy pauldrons and silver breastplate catch pale blue glints, runes along the helm faintly glowing, while his gauntleted hand rests on the bench’s arm, pale as marble. The park around is hushed and bare, skeletal trees reaching over a damp path, street lamps dim and fog-lit, a distant city skyline as soft, pearly silhouettes. The composition uses a cinematic wide-angle lens: the bench and monarch anchor the foreground, the abyss and receding path pull the eye deep, with light gradation guiding toward the void. Micro textures—frost crystals on iron, weathered wood grain, moss into crevices—heighten tactile realism, and the overall air feels suffocating yet crisp, charged with quiet menace

The image shows a knight sitting on a bench in the middle of a park, surrounded by trees, light poles, and buildings in the background. The knight is wearing armor and has a determined expression on his face, as if he is ready to take on any challenge.