the battlefield unfolds before your eyes, with the dying bodies of fallen warriors as a maze of grim and ethereal forms spread out below. These bodies are lost. Their souls are obscured, their souls still torn and twisted. Their eyes are dark and determined, their lips wide bare. Their limbs and limbs are twisted and curled, their voices echoing through the desolate expanses. The ground is trembled, shrouded in darkness, and the ethereal forms, rendered with the evocative textures of the dry brush style, seem to defy your grasp. It's a scene that defies reason and wonder, and the viewer can't help but wonder who this is telling.