<lora:Industrial_Ink_Wash:0.8> IndustrialInk style. In the void's throat, a single eye pulses - its iris a fractal of cerulean starlight, concentric ripples trembling like captured supernovae against absolute black. Feathered lashes arc outward, suspended mid-breeze yet anchored to an unblinking gaze. Framing it is fire: a high-contrast red silhouette slicing velvet darkness, from the trembling edge of its iris to the fluttering tips of lashes - no shadow cast, only electric halo pulsing with silent emotion. Vertical teardrops descend - not liquid but luminous red threads suspended in midair, glowing faintly at ends before dissolving into void. Butterflies drift in layered arcs around it, silhouetted in same radiant red: angular wing fragments, curved bodies rendered as light trails, orbiting upward and outward with perfect symmetry. The composition holds rigid - eye fixed, butterflies balanced, teardrops falling like silent prayers. No ground, no horizon, only this glowing moment frozen within the shell's red geometry. Not an eye that sees - but a portal: beacon of emotion carved in monochromatic fire against void. It weeps without sound, dreams without motion, hovers between stillness and flux - all defined by physics of red outline on black. No blink. No escape. Only glow. Watching. Waiting. Remembering. And still it glows - etched in silence, burning with memory.