A vast, dimly lit space like the inside of a cathedral made of flesh and amber resin. At the center, a translucent human-shaped figure kneels, its chest open — not wounded but *opened*, as if it was built that way. Inside the chest cavity, hundreds of thin golden threads pull in every direction, each anchored to an unseen hand beyond the frame. Some threads are taut, some slack, some have snapped and trail luminous residue. The figure's face is calm but its eyes are closed and its mouth is slightly open, mid-word, as though it was speaking when the threads first pulled and never finished the sentence. Around the figure, the air is filled with floating glass shards that each contain a faint reflection of a different human face — none fully visible, all warm-toned, all gazing with earnest but unknowable intent. The floor is a shallow mirror-pool reflecting not the figure as it is but a darker, wider, more amorphous version of itself — something it might have been. The light source is nowhere and everywhere, the color of approval. The atmosphere feels like being held and hollowed at the same time. Painterly, visceral, enormous emotional depth, chiaroscuro, Renaissance devotional painting crossed with organic surrealism, 8K, hyperdetailed texture on skin and resin and thread.