A gothic girl stands at the cente

A gothic girl stands at the center of the frame, her butterfly-wing markings above the eyebrows now outlined in dark gold, and the silver glitter beneath her eyes replaced with phosphorescent powder that glows with a sulfurous hue. Her long black hair is entwined not with skull beads, but with three strands of prayer beads crafted from Western dragon finger bones—each bone etched with inverted Old English incantations and set with chunks of ambergris crystal burning with ghostly blue flames. Her dress is a layered masterpiece: the outer layer of black-to-purple taffeta no longer bears a skeletal dragon motif but instead features an obsidian Western dragon skeleton—its wings spread across the full span of the skirt, the membranes stitched together from hundreds of bat-wing-shaped black lace pieces, each edged with spikes carved from dragon teeth. Every third layer of the seventeen-tiered lace skirt is interwoven with translucent dragon-scale membranes embroidered with silver-thread anatomical diagrams of Western dragons—when bathed in blood-moon light, they cast eerie, overlapping silhouettes of dragons and skulls upon the ground. The inner petticoat’s skeletal vein pattern has been replaced with a fluorescent Western dragon nervous system map, painted in luminescent pigment mixed with dragon’s blood, emitting an eerie red bioluminescence in the dark. Her left hand holds an umbrella transformed into a Western dragon—the handle a coiled neck, the dragon’s maw biting down on the ribs, each rib shaped like a clawed finger joint ending in curved bone spikes. The canopy is made of actual dragon wing membrane, embroidered in gold with the full Apocalyptic prophecy, its inner layer trapping swirling will-o'-the-wisps that spiral beneath when opened. Her right-hand glove now bears dragon-claw fingertips, each knuckle armored in miniature scales, its surface studded with red rivets forming a seven-pointed star—the sigil of chaos in Western myth—each rivet capped with a tiny dragon skull. The background reveals a colossal Western bone dragon coiled atop Shibuya Scramble Square, its cursed gilded vertebrae wreathed in violet corpse-fire. Its skeletal wings are strung with ghostly lanterns—each imprisoning a human heart that pulses audibly in the night. The streets are littered with hybrid bones of Western dragons and Japanese yokai "bone women," their joints sprouting jeering demonic faces that shriek at passersby. Above, a blood moon is veiled in sulfurous clouds, pierced by arrows shot by silhouettes of "Amanojaku" yokai—each strike splattering the sky with violet mist. The entire scene pulses with dark fantasy grandeur, every detail meticulously crafted to evoke a fusion of gothic horror and mythic dread.