Infernal Throne
Reflection
In fiery splendor, he sits enthroned, a monarch of chaos, surrounded by the scattered remnants of truth.
The throne, a twisted mass of dark, ornate wood, seems to be alive, its spikes reaching towards him like grasping fingers.
The figure, a symbol of power, is bathed in the warm glow of flames that dance around him, casting shadows on the walls.
The air is thick with the scent of smoke and burning paper, as if the very fabric of reality is being consumed.
The newspapers, once vessels of information, now lie torn and scattered, their fragments swirling around him like autumn leaves in a storm.
And he, the master of this domain, sits serene, his face a map of determination, his eyes aglow with an inner fire.
This is a scene of unyielding resolve, a testament to the unrelenting pursuit of power.