A dark-robed villain stands tall on a desolate, lava-strewn battlefield, their twisted face illuminated by the fiery glow, with piercing red eyes that seem to burn with malevolent intensity, their pale skin deathly pale against the warm hues of the surroundings. Their wand, adorned with intricate, dark metal filigree, crackles with dark energy, channeling molten streams that ripple outward, like fiery tentacles, across the cracked and blackened ground. The air is thick with the acrid smell of smoke and ash, and the distant rumble of thunder echoes through the barren landscape, as if the very earth itself is protesting the villain's presence. Amidst the destruction, the villain's dark, tattered robes billow behind them, like a dark cloud, as they command the fiery forces that surround them, their very essence appearing to draw power from the devastation.