In a desolate, windswept desert, a lone figure, a king with garb that complements the red hues of the sands, stands defiantly. The backdrop is expanse of wilderness bathed in the golden light of the setting sun which casts long shadows. The camera angle is a low shot, framing the king in all his majesty, but also emphasizing the vastness of his lonely kingdom.
To signify his ruthless rule, he is holding an iron rod, the symbol of his tyrannical reign, glinting menacingly in the dying daylight. The perspective focuses on him, the sole figure in this dreary scenery, enhancing a feeling of his isolation. Camera movement from the lowly, worm’s eye view gradually pulls back to show the desolate expanse around him, signifying his helpless struggle against the overwhelming loneliness and the inescapable cost of power.
The stillness of this scene is broken by a sudden gust of wind, causing a swarm of sand to obstruct the king, momentarily blurring our focus. The soft sounds of the winds act as a ghostly whisper of the subjects he rules over, invisible, but ceaselessly present.
Next, the colors shift: the fiery oranges and reds of the sunset fade into deep blues and purples of the oncoming night. With nightfall, the tyrant king is reduced into a small, isolated speck who must now confront the echoing silence of his realm as he stands alone under the stars. Unseen wild beasts howl in the distance, the sounds echoing in the vast emptiness as the screen fades to black.