Contents
About Prompt
- Prompt Type – Scene-by-Scene
- Prompt Platform – Google Veo
- Language – English
- Category – Video/Story
- Prompt Title – VEO 3 Prompt – Judgment of the Underworld
Prompt Details
🎬 Scene 1
An impossibly vast, cavernous expanse unfolds under a swirling nebula of amethyst and obsidian dust, serving as a perpetual twilight sky. The ground is not earth, but an infinite shore of fine, glistening black sand that absorbs all light, creating a profound sense of negative space. Each grain of sand seems to be a tiny, polished piece of obsidian, catching the faint, ethereal glow from the cosmic ceiling in microscopic, star-like glints. In the distance, a silent, motionless river of liquid shadow, thick and viscous like mercury, cuts through the landscape, its surface perfectly placid, reflecting the swirling cosmos above with unnerving clarity. The air is still and cold, heavy with the scent of petrichor and ancient dust, carrying an almost imperceptible, low-frequency hum that vibrates deep within the chest. Crystalline structures, like colossal, half-buried geodes, jut from the sand at odd angles, their facets pulsing with a soft, internal luminescence that shifts between shades of deep sapphire and pale silver. The atmosphere is one of profound, soul-crushing solitude and awe-inspiring, alien beauty. It is a place outside of time, a waiting room at the end of existence where the laws of physics are merely suggestions. The silence is the most dominant feature, a palpable entity that presses in from all sides, broken only by the faintest whisper of cosmic winds that are felt more than heard. A single figure, Elara, slowly materializes into existence, her form coalescing from the ambient dust and light as if the realm itself is dreaming her into being. Her bare feet make no impression on the black sand, reinforcing the surreal, dreamlike quality of her arrival in this liminal space.
🎵 Tone: Ethereal, mysterious, and awe-inspiringly desolate.
🎬 Scene 2
From the very fabric of the landscape, a colossal figure begins to manifest, a monument of impossible geometry and elemental force that dwarfs the crystalline structures scattered across the shore. This is the Arbiter. It possesses no fixed, humanoid form; instead, it is a constantly shifting, twenty-meter-tall monolith of polished, black obsidian that reflects a distorted, nightmarish version of the surroundings. Its surface is not solid but fluid, with sections that crumble away into cascades of shimmering sand only to reform moments later. Embedded within the obsidian are what appear to be captured galaxies and nebulae, swirling with trapped starlight and cosmic fire, giving the impression that the being is a vessel for the universe’s oldest secrets. Countless faces, like masks made of cracked porcelain and pure shadow, emerge and submerge from its surface, each one representing a soul it has judged. They flicker for a moment—a screaming man, a serene old woman, a crying child—before being reabsorbed into the whole. The Arbiter does not walk; it simply *is*, its presence warping the space around it, causing the air to shimmer with heatless energy. As it fully solidifies its form, the low hum that permeates the realm intensifies, coalescing around the entity. The ground trembles slightly, not with a violent quake, but with a deep, resonant vibration that seems to emanate from the Arbiter itself. It is a being of pure judgment, devoid of emotion, a fundamental law of this universe given terrifying form. Its sheer scale and alien nature are designed to inspire absolute terror and submission, a living embodiment of an inescapable, cosmic verdict.
🎵 Tone: Terrifying, majestic, and ominous.
🎬 Scene 3
The Arbiter remains motionless, a towering mountain of living judgment. One of the countless obsidian facets on its ‘torso’ begins to glow with an internal, milky-white light. The polished black surface transforms into a screen, a living mirror that does not reflect the present but a moment from Elara’s past. The image that forms is hazy at first, like a memory struggling to cohere, before sharpening with painful clarity. It shows a rain-slicked London street at night, the neon lights of a pub blurring in the downpour. A younger Elara is there, standing under an awning, her face a mask of cold fury and unshed tears. She is arguing with a man, his face just out of focus, his words unheard. The memory-Elara turns her back on him, delivering a final, cruel sentence before walking away into the rain, leaving him standing alone, utterly broken. The scene in the mirror is silent, yet the emotional weight of the moment is immense, a palpable wave of regret and sorrow that emanates from the reflection and washes over the underworld shore. The Arbiter itself does not react, its form unchanging, yet its purpose is clear. It is not merely a judge; it is a crucible, forcing the soul to confront the heaviest moments of its own existence, the decisions that anchor it to its past. The very air around the mirror-facet seems to grow colder, the light from the memory casting a harsh, unforgiving glow on the real Elara’s face, forcing her to watch this monument to her own failure.
🎵 Tone: Accusatory, painful, and suspenseful.
🎬 Scene 4
Elara’s initial shock and fear give way to a spark of defiance. She tears her gaze away from the painful memory replaying on the Arbiter’s obsidian surface and glares up at the towering, formless entity. Her posture shifts; her shoulders straighten, and her chin lifts. Though she is a tiny, fragile figure in this immense, cosmic courtroom, her spirit refuses to be broken by this silent accusation. The liquid smoke of her dress swirls around her ankles as she takes a deliberate step forward, a minuscule advance against an impossible foe. Her hands clench into fists at her sides, the knuckles of her pale hands showing white. Her face, previously a canvas of terror, now hardens with conviction. Her sapphire eyes, which had been wide with fright, now narrow, burning with a fierce, protective fire as she prepares to defend not just her actions, but the complex, messy, human context behind them. The oppressive weight of the realm seems to lessen for a moment, pushed back by the sheer force of her will. She is no longer just a lost soul; she is an advocate for her own life, for her own flawed and beautiful story. The nebula above seems to pulse in response to her surge of emotion, a subtle shift in the amethyst clouds acknowledging this flicker of rebellion in the face of absolute judgment.
🎵 Tone: Defiant, impassioned, and tense.
🎬 Scene 5
In silent, indifferent response to Elara’s passionate outburst, the very air in front of the Arbiter begins to warp and solidify. From shimmering particles of starlight and solidified shadow, a pair of colossal, ornate scales materializes, hovering weightlessly between the judge and the judged. The scales are not crafted from any earthly metal; they are forged from a substance that resembles petrified moonlight, glowing with a soft, cold, silver luminescence. The central pillar is a twisted column of this material, intricately carved with glyphs that pulse with faint energy. The balance beam is a single, impossibly long sliver of polished bone from some long-dead celestial creature. On the right pan, a single, perfect feather materializes. It is a feather of pure, radiant light, shimmering with all the colours of a dawn sky, representing truth, order, and a soul unburdened. The left pan is empty, a shallow bowl of polished lunar material, waiting. The scales are perfectly balanced, hanging with an unnatural stillness in the heavy air. They are an icon of judgment made manifest, a surreal and beautiful instrument of cosmic arbitration. Their appearance is not a magical trick but feels like a fundamental law of this reality asserting itself, an inevitable next step in the process. The sheer, silent finality of the object is more intimidating than any verbal threat, a clear and undeniable statement that the time for words has passed and the time for weighing has begun.
🎵 Tone: Ominous, surreal, and fateful.
🎬 Scene 6
Without any visible action from the Arbiter, a powerful, unseen force emanates from the colossal being, focusing entirely on Elara. It is not a physical push but a metaphysical pull, a deep, resonant summons aimed at her very essence. Elara gasps, her hands flying to her chest as a brilliant, searing light begins to bloom from beneath her palms. The light is a warm, golden hue, the colour of a fading summer sunset, and it shines through the fabric of her dress and even through the flesh of her hands. It pulses in time with a frantic, silent heartbeat. Her body arches back, a silent scream caught in her throat as the light intensifies, becoming almost too bright to look at. With a final, wrenching pull, the light extracts itself from her chest, coalescing into a sphere of pure, vibrant energy about the size of a human heart. It is a living object, containing a maelstrom of swirling colours and fleeting images—fragments of her life, her loves, her joys, her sorrows, all churning within this orb of soul-stuff. The orb, which Elara now recognizes as her heart, her very being, floats from her and drifts slowly, inexorably, towards the empty pan of the celestial scales. Elara collapses slightly, weakened and hollowed by the extraction, but her eyes remain fixed on the orb, watching the entirety of her existence float away to be judged.
🎵 Tone: Painful, climactic, and revelatory.
🎬 Scene 7
The golden orb, a miniature sun containing the sum of Elara’s existence, drifts with an agonizing slowness until it is poised directly above the empty left pan of the moon-silver scales. For a single, breathless moment, it hovers there, its warm light painting the cold, metallic surface. Then, with an infinitesimal sigh of displaced air, it settles gently into the bowl. The moment it makes contact, a deep, resonant chime, like a cathedral bell struck once in the heart of a mountain, echoes through the vastness of the underworld. For an instant, the scales remain perfectly balanced, the weight of a human life held in equilibrium against the weight of absolute truth. Then, with a slow, grinding, and inexorable movement, the balance begins to shift. The pan holding Elara’s heart begins to sink. It does not fall quickly but descends with a dreadful, final gravity, each millimetre of its descent a damning verdict. The feather of light on the other side rises, pristine and untouched, its luminescence seeming to mock the heavy, complex burden of the soul opposite it. The deep chime fades, replaced by the horrifying, low groan of celestial mechanics, the sound of an absolute law being irrevocably executed. The imbalance is clear, undeniable, and catastrophic. The weight of her memories, her regrets, her loves, and her failures—the very things that made her human—has condemned her.
🎵 Tone: Dreadful, fateful, and suspenseful.
🎬 Scene 8
As the scales come to a rest in their final, imbalanced position—Elara’s heart sunken low, the feather of truth floating high—the Arbiter’s colossal form seems to darken, absorbing the ambient light around it. The swirling galaxies within its obsidian body slow their spin, their light dimming to a malevolent, ember-like glow. The countless faces that flicker across its surface all turn their hollow eyes towards Elara, their silent screams and placid smiles all merging into a single, unified expression of finality. The chorus of voices that emanates from the being loses any hint of neutrality it once possessed. It is no longer just a statement of fact; it is a sentence, a cosmic decree delivered with the weight of eternity. The voice booms through the cavern, each word a physical force that causes the black sand at Elara’s feet to vibrate and the air to crackle with static energy. The memory-facet on its chest goes dark, its purpose served. The Arbiter’s entire presence coalesces into a singular point of judgment. It is the judge, jury, and executioner, and its verdict is not a suggestion but a reshaping of reality itself. The very atmosphere of the underworld seems to hold its breath, the swirling nebula above ceasing its motion, frozen in anticipation of the consequence that must now inevitably follow the pronouncement.
🎵 Tone: Final, damning, and terrifying.
🎬 Scene 9
The thunderous echo of the Arbiter’s verdict fades, leaving a silence more profound and terrifying than before. The camera focuses with intimate, slow-motion precision on Elara’s face, a landscape of quiet devastation. The defiance that had burned so brightly in her eyes is gone, extinguished by the finality of her sentence. Her sapphire eyes, now glistening with unshed tears, reflect the dim, cold light of the feather of truth, still floating mockingly high on the scales. There is no longer fear in her expression, but a deep, sorrowful acceptance. It is the look of someone who has fought and lost, who has laid bare their soul only to have it found wanting. A single, perfect tear escapes from the corner of her right eye. It traces a slow, glistening path down her pale cheek. But this is the underworld, and nothing is as it seems. As the tear falls from her jawline, it does not splash or disappear. Instead, in the fraction of a second it is airborne, it crystallizes, transforming mid-air into a tiny, flawless, shimmering diamond that catches the nebula’s light. It is her final, crystallized regret, a beautiful, tragic monument to her condemned humanity. Her lips part slightly, a silent breath escaping, the last protest of a soul facing its surreal fate. The moment is stretched, suspended in time, a poignant, beautiful, and heartbreaking portrait of surrender.
🎵 Tone: Tragic, beautiful, and melancholic.
🎬 Scene 10
The moment the crystallized tear strikes the black sand, it does not make a sound but sends out a network of pulsing, light-blue cracks across the ground, like lightning trapped in obsidian. The ground beneath Elara’s feet begins to crumble, not into a fiery pit of damnation, but opening into a breathtaking, terrifying void. Below her is not earth or rock, but a boundless, swirling sea of stars, a living galaxy of incandescent suns and deep-space nebulae. It is the raw, untamed cosmos, beautiful and utterly inhospitable. The crumbling shore becomes a precipice, and Elara loses her footing, her body falling backward into the starlit abyss. She does not scream. Her raven hair fans out above her head like a dark halo, and her white dress billows around her as she descends into the sea of stars. She is not falling into punishment, but into oblivion, into the infinite, her heavy heart pulling her down into the very fabric of creation. The camera watches from above as her small, white form plummets, growing smaller and smaller, a single mote of dust against the backdrop of infinity. Her golden heart, released from the scales, falls with her, a tiny, fading sun plunging into the darkness. The Arbiter and the scales dissolve back into the landscape, the judgment complete, the underworld shore returning to its silent, eternal vigil, leaving no trace that a soul was ever weighed, or ever lost.
🎵 Tone: Awe-inspiring, tragic, and surreal.