The sky was aflame with the fiercest crimson hue, streaked with veins of ochre and gold. The air was alive with the crackle of electricity, as if the world itself was caught in a moment of ecstatic release. Against this infernal backdrop, a figure emerged from the billowing smoke, their movements graceful and fluid. They were clad head to toe in flowing, midnight-black robes, their long, raven hair streaming behind them like a river of ink. Their face, obscured by a voluminous hood, seemed to radiate an otherworldly calm. As they stepped forward, the ground trembled beneath their feet, as if in deference to their presence. The figure raised a hand, and from the heart of the blazing sky, a single, ethereal feather drifted down, dancing gracefully toward them. With a fluid motion, they caught the feather in their palm, and the world seemed to sigh in relief as the first ember of a new dawn began to rise.