In a dark and mysterious place, among the dense shadows of an ancient forest, stands a dark tower, shrouded in mist and mystery. At the top of the tower, bathed in the dim light of the crescent moon, stands a dark wizard, his cloak billowing in the shadowy wind that seems to dance just for him. All around you float souls in torment, their translucent forms writhing in silent agony. The wizard, eyes glowing with sinister power, raises his hands in commanding gestures, manipulating the souls like puppets on his invisible strings. At the base of the tower, twisted roots and ancient tombs testify to the dark presence that permeates the place. In the background, an aura of black energy radiates from the wizard, as if he were a beacon of despair amidst the darkness.