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C9I

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C9I

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1:1, 16:9, no humans, solo animal, bird, raven, black feathers, perched, standing on trunk, facing a small light, looking at light, dead tree, leafless tree, bare branches, gnarled trunk, endless snowfield, night, snow, thick fog, mist, glowing, amber light, tiny light source, light particles dissolving, fading glow, cold blue palette, silver highlights, cinematic lighting, wide shot, foreground snow ridge, midground tree, background swallowed in fog, low camera, subtle low angle, film grain, hyper-detailed, melancholic, farewell atmosphere, no text, no watermark, no signature, no letters A lone dead tree stands slightly left of centre in a wide 16:9 night shot, seen from a low camera position just above the snow crust so the trunk rises tall and gaunt against a featureless dark sky; its gnarled black trunk forks into a bare crown of hooked, leafless branches, and it is the only vertical thing in an endless snowy wasteland that runs unbroken to a fog-drowned horizon. The snow lies in wind-carved ridges, blue-grey in the ambient dark, and only their up-facing crests hold a thin silver crust of reflected fog-light, the troughs sinking into deeper blue. Thick cold fog fills the middle distance and closes the world off; the snow surface loses its texture a few dozen metres out and dissolves into flat grey vapour, and nearer the tree thin coils of fog drift low across the ground and stream slowly past the trunk. On the root-most fork of the trunk, a single small amber light glows: a soft sphere of warm orange suspended just above the bark, its light bleeding only a hand's width along the branch. It is visibly dissolving — the core is brightest, its outer edge breaks into loose motes of amber that lift and drift and grey out into the fog an arm's length away, and the farthest of them are already nothing but faint sparks thinning to darkness. The light is the only warm colour and the only light source: it rims the branch it sits above in orange, drops a small round pool of warmth onto the snow directly beneath, and casts nothing else. Beyond that pool the darkness is absolute blue-black. On the main trunk, once recovered from the light, the raven is a dense black silhouette with a scaled feather sheen where the amber catches the edge of its chest; it sits upright and still, head turned to look directly at the fading light, one eye picking up a single pinpoint of amber while the rest of its plumage stays swallowed by shadow. The composition stays sparse: empty snow and fog occupy the lower right, the tree and the raven the left, and the vast negative space carries the quiet. Cold blue and silver hold everywhere except the amber; a hyper-detailed snow grain, a faint film grain across the whole frame and a softening of contrast toward the horizon keep the depth. Deeply melancholic, still, a quiet farewell.
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Original Prompt
A lone, dead tree standing in an endless, dark snowy wasteland at night. On one single branch, a small, warm amber light is glowing, but it is slowly dissolving and fading into the thick, cold fog. A dark, silent raven sits on the main trunk, looking directly at the fading light. No people, no other animals. The mood is deeply melancholic, quiet, loss, and farewell. Cinematic lighting, cold blue and silver palette, with the fading amber light as the only warmth. 8k, film grain, hyper-detailed. No text, no watermark. --ar 16:9
Mode
pro
Size
768 x 1280
Sampling Method
Euler
Negative
lowres, worst quality, low quality, bad anatomy, explicit
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Tsubaki.3 - AI Model cover image

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AI artwork
Avatar image of C9I
1:1, 16:9, no humans, solo animal, bird, raven, black feathers, perched, standing on trunk, facing a small light, looking at light, dead tree, leafless tree, bare branches, gnarled trunk, endless snowfield, night, snow, thick fog, mist, glowing, amber light, tiny light source, light particles dissolving, fading glow, cold blue palette, silver highlights, cinematic lighting, wide shot, foreground snow ridge, midground tree, background swallowed in fog, low camera, subtle low angle, film grain, hyper-detailed, melancholic, farewell atmosphere, no text, no watermark, no signature, no letters A lone dead tree stands slightly left of centre in a wide 16:9 night shot, seen from a low camera position just above the snow crust so the trunk rises tall and gaunt against a featureless dark sky; its gnarled black trunk forks into a bare crown of hooked, leafless branches, and it is the only vertical thing in an endless snowy wasteland that runs unbroken to a fog-drowned horizon. The snow lies in wind-carved ridges, blue-grey in the ambient dark, and only their up-facing crests hold a thin silver crust of reflected fog-light, the troughs sinking into deeper blue. Thick cold fog fills the middle distance and closes the world off; the snow surface loses its texture a few dozen metres out and dissolves into flat grey vapour, and nearer the tree thin coils of fog drift low across the ground and stream slowly past the trunk. On the root-most fork of the trunk, a single small amber light glows: a soft sphere of warm orange suspended just above the bark, its light bleeding only a hand's width along the branch. It is visibly dissolving — the core is brightest, its outer edge breaks into loose motes of amber that lift and drift and grey out into the fog an arm's length away, and the farthest of them are already nothing but faint sparks thinning to darkness. The light is the only warm colour and the only light source: it rims the branch it sits above in orange, drops a small round pool of warmth onto the snow directly beneath, and casts nothing else. Beyond that pool the darkness is absolute blue-black. On the main trunk, once recovered from the light, the raven is a dense black silhouette with a scaled feather sheen where the amber catches the edge of its chest; it sits upright and still, head turned to look directly at the fading light, one eye picking up a single pinpoint of amber while the rest of its plumage stays swallowed by shadow. The composition stays sparse: empty snow and fog occupy the lower right, the tree and the raven the left, and the vast negative space carries the quiet. Cold blue and silver hold everywhere except the amber; a hyper-detailed snow grain, a faint film grain across the whole frame and a softening of contrast toward the horizon keep the depth. Deeply melancholic, still, a quiet farewell.
C9I
AI artwork
Avatar image of C9I
1:1, 16:9, no humans, solo animal, bird, raven, black feathers, perched, standing on trunk, facing a small light, looking at light, dead tree, leafless tree, bare branches, gnarled trunk, endless snowfield, night, snow, thick fog, mist, glowing, amber light, tiny light source, light particles dissolving, fading glow, cold blue palette, silver highlights, cinematic lighting, wide shot, foreground snow ridge, midground tree, background swallowed in fog, low camera, subtle low angle, film grain, hyper-detailed, melancholic, farewell atmosphere, no text, no watermark, no signature, no letters A lone dead tree stands slightly left of centre in a wide 16:9 night shot, seen from a low camera position just above the snow crust so the trunk rises tall and gaunt against a featureless dark sky; its gnarled black trunk forks into a bare crown of hooked, leafless branches, and it is the only vertical thing in an endless snowy wasteland that runs unbroken to a fog-drowned horizon. The snow lies in wind-carved ridges, blue-grey in the ambient dark, and only their up-facing crests hold a thin silver crust of reflected fog-light, the troughs sinking into deeper blue. Thick cold fog fills the middle distance and closes the world off; the snow surface loses its texture a few dozen metres out and dissolves into flat grey vapour, and nearer the tree thin coils of fog drift low across the ground and stream slowly past the trunk. On the root-most fork of the trunk, a single small amber light glows: a soft sphere of warm orange suspended just above the bark, its light bleeding only a hand's width along the branch. It is visibly dissolving — the core is brightest, its outer edge breaks into loose motes of amber that lift and drift and grey out into the fog an arm's length away, and the farthest of them are already nothing but faint sparks thinning to darkness. The light is the only warm colour and the only light source: it rims the branch it sits above in orange, drops a small round pool of warmth onto the snow directly beneath, and casts nothing else. Beyond that pool the darkness is absolute blue-black. On the main trunk, once recovered from the light, the raven is a dense black silhouette with a scaled feather sheen where the amber catches the edge of its chest; it sits upright and still, head turned to look directly at the fading light, one eye picking up a single pinpoint of amber while the rest of its plumage stays swallowed by shadow. The composition stays sparse: empty snow and fog occupy the lower right, the tree and the raven the left, and the vast negative space carries the quiet. Cold blue and silver hold everywhere except the amber; a hyper-detailed snow grain, a faint film grain across the whole frame and a softening of contrast toward the horizon keep the depth. Deeply melancholic, still, a quiet farewell.
C9I
AI artwork
Avatar image of C9I
1:1, 16:9, no humans, solo animal, bird, raven, black feathers, perched, standing on trunk, facing a small light, looking at light, dead tree, leafless tree, bare branches, gnarled trunk, endless snowfield, night, snow, thick fog, mist, glowing, amber light, tiny light source, light particles dissolving, fading glow, cold blue palette, silver highlights, cinematic lighting, wide shot, foreground snow ridge, midground tree, background swallowed in fog, low camera, subtle low angle, film grain, hyper-detailed, melancholic, farewell atmosphere, no text, no watermark, no signature, no letters A lone dead tree stands slightly left of centre in a wide 16:9 night shot, seen from a low camera position just above the snow crust so the trunk rises tall and gaunt against a featureless dark sky; its gnarled black trunk forks into a bare crown of hooked, leafless branches, and it is the only vertical thing in an endless snowy wasteland that runs unbroken to a fog-drowned horizon. The snow lies in wind-carved ridges, blue-grey in the ambient dark, and only their up-facing crests hold a thin silver crust of reflected fog-light, the troughs sinking into deeper blue. Thick cold fog fills the middle distance and closes the world off; the snow surface loses its texture a few dozen metres out and dissolves into flat grey vapour, and nearer the tree thin coils of fog drift low across the ground and stream slowly past the trunk. On the root-most fork of the trunk, a single small amber light glows: a soft sphere of warm orange suspended just above the bark, its light bleeding only a hand's width along the branch. It is visibly dissolving — the core is brightest, its outer edge breaks into loose motes of amber that lift and drift and grey out into the fog an arm's length away, and the farthest of them are already nothing but faint sparks thinning to darkness. The light is the only warm colour and the only light source: it rims the branch it sits above in orange, drops a small round pool of warmth onto the snow directly beneath, and casts nothing else. Beyond that pool the darkness is absolute blue-black. On the main trunk, once recovered from the light, the raven is a dense black silhouette with a scaled feather sheen where the amber catches the edge of its chest; it sits upright and still, head turned to look directly at the fading light, one eye picking up a single pinpoint of amber while the rest of its plumage stays swallowed by shadow. The composition stays sparse: empty snow and fog occupy the lower right, the tree and the raven the left, and the vast negative space carries the quiet. Cold blue and silver hold everywhere except the amber; a hyper-detailed snow grain, a faint film grain across the whole frame and a softening of contrast toward the horizon keep the depth. Deeply melancholic, still, a quiet farewell.
C9I
AI artwork
Avatar image of C9I
2 subjects, one massive shadowy raven, one tiny glowing white light, wings spread wide like a protective shield, hunched over, head lowered, from below, low angle, wide shot, dutch angle, heavy snowfall, blizzard, dark freezing snowstorm, tiny glowing light cradled beneath the wing, curled insect-like mote of light, pale watchful eyes, glowing eyes, rim lighting, backlighting, silhouette, deep blacks, silver, soft white, monochrome with pale glow, high contrast, volumetric light, snow particles lit only near the light, dark fantasy, cinematic, film grain, highly detailed, no text, no watermark The camera sits low and close to the drift, tilted a few degrees off level, looking up from beneath the raven's breast so the bird towers across the upper two thirds of the wide 16:9 frame while the light huddles in the lower left third. The raven's body is a hunched mass of matte black feathers, its back arched against the storm; both wings are flung open and slightly forward, the near wing sweeping down and toward the lens with its primaries spread and its underside turned to the viewer, the far wing raked up and back, together tenting a hollow of still air beneath the breast. Feathers along the shoulders are ruffled and lifted by the gale, each barb silvered where the glow grazes it. The head is bowed and turned in three-quarter profile toward the hollow, hooked beak angled down, and both pale eyes are luminous discs set in the dark skull, catching the mote of light from below so the pupils stay black pinpricks; the gaze is fixed on the small glowing thing, unblinking, and does not leave it. Beneath the near wing, sheltered in the pocket of the raven's breast, hangs the light: a mote no bigger than an insect, a soft white core with a feathered halo and two faint trailing threads like folded wings or a wisp of soul, drifting a finger's width above the snow yet untouched by it. It is the brightest thing in the frame and the only warm-white source; its glow falls upward on the raven's throat and inner wing and downward in a shallow cone that picks out the crusted snow directly beneath, leaving the rest of the ground in absolute black. The raven's eyes are the only other light, a thin cold gleam, and beyond their two small pools and the mote's halo the darkness is total. Snow falls heavily through the whole frame, streaks and fat flakes driven almost horizontal by the wind, and each flake only becomes visible as it crosses the light's cone or the rim of an eye-gleam, flaring silver for an instant before vanishing back into the void; the flakes that land on the raven's raised wing-tops gather there and nowhere else. The environment is a featureless night blizzard: no horizon, no trees, only a low snowdrift banked around the bird's feet and the wind-combed ridges of the ground losing themselves in black. Palette is restricted to deep black, cold silver-grey and soft white, the white appearing only in the glow, the falling flakes and the faint snow-shine, everything graded toward charcoal at the edges. Fine film grain sits over the entire frame, edges soft with atmospheric haze near the lens, the drifting snow slightly out of focus in the foreground. Protective, melancholic, sacred.
C9I

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