Contents
About Prompt
- Prompt Type – Scene-by-Scene
- Prompt Platform – Google Veo
- Language – English
- Category – Video/Story
- Prompt Title – VEO 3 Prompt – Spirit of the Sakura Temple
Prompt Details
🎬 Scene 1
The scene opens on an impossibly beautiful, forgotten Sakura temple at the precipice of twilight. The air is thick with a sacred stillness, heavy with the scent of damp moss, ancient cedarwood, and the phantom fragrance of cherry blossoms long past their season. A colossal, gnarled Sakura tree, its branches like the skeletal fingers of a slumbering giant, looms over a weathered stone Torii gate, half-swallowed by emerald ivy and creeping vines. The last vestiges of the setting sun bleed through the dense canopy in hues of deep magenta, molten gold, and bruised violet, casting long, dramatic shadows that writhe and dance across the moss-covered stone steps leading up to the temple entrance. Each stone is a masterpiece of natural erosion, its surface slick with moisture, hosting miniature ecosystems of lichen and fungi. A fine, ethereal mist clings to the ground, swirling gently around the base of the gate and the roots of the ancient tree, imbued with a soft, otherworldly luminescence from the dying light. The temple itself, a structure of dark, almost black, cypress wood, stands silently in the background. Its ornate, tiered roof, with gracefully curved eaves, is silhouetted against the deepening twilight sky. Intricate carvings of dragons and celestial spirits, though faded and worn by centuries of wind and rain, are still visible on the wooden beams. The atmosphere is one of profound peace, immense age, and a palpable, sleeping magic. Every texture is hyper-realistic: the rough, grooved bark of the Sakura, the cold, damp smoothness of the stone, the delicate, velvety surface of the moss. The air itself seems to hum with a low, meditative energy, a forgotten story waiting to be rediscovered in this sacred, liminal space between day and night, the mundane and the magical.
🎵 Tone: Mysterious / Awe-inspiring
🎬 Scene 2
The interior of the temple’s main hall is a cavern of shadow and silvered light. Immense wooden pillars, crafted from whole tree trunks, rise into the oppressive darkness of the high, vaulted ceiling, their surfaces smooth and cool to the touch. The air inside is even more still than outside, carrying the heavy, cloying scent of decaying parchment, petrified incense, and dry, ancient wood. A single, perfectly circular window, high on the far wall, acts as a celestial spotlight, cutting a sharp, defined beam of ethereal moonlight through the gloom. Within this beam, a universe of dust motes, undisturbed for centuries, dances and swirls in a silent, hypnotic ballet. The moonlight falls upon a central dais, illuminating a weathered wooden lectern. On the lectern rests a single, large scroll, its casing made of dark, polished wood and its fasteners of tarnished brass. The scroll itself is bound with a simple, faded crimson ribbon. The floorboards around the dais are worn smooth in a circular path, suggesting countless years of ritualistic movement. Faded, almost ghostly ink-wash murals of serene landscapes and celestial beings adorn the paper walls, their details only just discernible in the ambient, reflected moonlight. The scene is one of profound, sacred neglect. The silence is absolute, a heavy blanket that seems to absorb all sound, creating a feeling of being suspended outside of time. Every detail is rendered with painstaking clarity: the fine cracks in the wooden pillars, the delicate fraying of the scroll’s ribbon, the way the moonlight catches the raised grain of the floorboards. It is a space that commands reverence, a tomb of memory waiting for a gentle hand to awaken it.
🎵 Tone: Reverent / Tense
🎬 Scene 3
The instant Elara’s fingertips make contact with the ancient scroll, a silent shockwave of energy emanates from it, visible only as a subtle distortion in the air. The crimson ribbon binding the scroll begins to glow with a soft, pulsating inner light, a warm ember in the cold moonlight. This light intensifies, tracing the delicate, calligraphic characters hidden beneath the layers of parchment, causing them to flare with golden luminescence. Suddenly, the light erupts, not in a flash, but in a gentle, blossoming wave. From the scroll, countless particles of light, each shaped like a perfect, five-petaled Sakura blossom, begin to pour forth. They are not solid but ethereal, semi-translucent, and they drift upwards into the beam of moonlight with an impossible, weightless grace. They swirl and dance around Elara, creating a miniature, silent vortex of glowing petals. The air grows warmer, and the scent of fresh cherry blossoms, impossibly vibrant and real, fills the hall, displacing the musty smell of ages. The petals are rendered in exquisite detail; some are a soft pink, others a brilliant white, and they leave faint trails of golden light in their wake, like microscopic comets. They reflect in Elara’s wide, astonished eyes, filling them with a constellation of moving lights. The dust motes that once danced in the moonlight are now replaced by this magical, silent storm of light. The phenomenon is utterly serene, devoid of any threat, possessing a profound and sacred beauty that seems to be welcoming her, responding to her respectful touch. The meditative chants in the background swell, now accompanied by a female voice, adding a layer of profound, spiritual grace to the unfolding miracle.
🎵 Tone: Magical / Wondrous
🎬 Scene 4
From the densest part of the swirling vortex of light-petals, a form begins to coalesce. The particles of light move with intention now, gathering and weaving together in the air before Elara. The process is fluid and organic, like ink bleeding into wet paper or smoke taking on a human shape. First, the silhouette of a tall, graceful man emerges, defined by shimmering outlines of soft, silver light. Then, details are painted into being by the swirling petals: the deep indigo of a spectral kimono, the flowing lines of long, black hair that seems to move like dark water, and finally, a face. It is a face of noble, sorrowful beauty, with high cheekbones and a straight nose, crafted from moonlight and memory. His eyes open last, and they are pools of soft, silvery light, holding the wisdom and weariness of untold centuries. This is Kaito, the spirit of the temple. He is not a ghost in the traditional sense; he is a living piece of art, a spectral being made of light, memory, and magic. His form is semi-translucent; the murals on the wall behind him can be faintly seen through his body. The edges of his kimono constantly dissolve into a slow cascade of Sakura petals, which are then drawn back into his form in a continuous, gentle cycle. He does not stand on the floor but hovers an inch above it, his presence utterly silent and overwhelmingly serene. He looks down at Elara not with malice or suspicion, but with a deep, penetrating curiosity, a silent question in his luminous eyes.
🎵 Tone: Awe-inspiring / Serene
🎬 Scene 5
The luminous Sakura petals continue their slow, silent dance around the two figures, casting a soft, kinetic light that plays across the ancient wood and stone of the temple hall. Kaito remains suspended just above the floor, his presence both immense and gentle. His gaze is fixed on Elara, and his silvery eyes seem to look not just at her, but through her, assessing her intentions, her spirit. He is the embodiment of the temple’s soul, and his form pulses with a slow, rhythmic light, like a sleeping heartbeat. The air around him is charged with a quiet power, a palpable aura of history and magic. The details of his spectral form are mesmerizing: the way the ink-wash patterns within his kimono shift and swirl like clouds in a twilight sky, the faint, ghostly image of the temple’s interior visible through his torso, the constant, gentle shedding and reabsorbing of light-petals at the hem of his robes. He is a paradox—a being of immense power who exudes an aura of complete tranquility. He radiates a profound, ancient melancholy, the sorrow of a forgotten guardian, but it is tempered by a deep, abiding peace. Elara, in turn, stands her ground, her initial shock giving way to the focused calm of a dedicated scholar faced with the discovery of a lifetime. Her fear has completely evaporated, replaced by an overwhelming sense of privilege and responsibility. She meets his gaze directly, her own eyes filled with respect and an earnest desire to understand. This is not an encounter between a human and a monster, but a meeting of two minds, two souls, separated by an ocean of time.
🎵 Tone: Contemplative / Respectful
🎬 Scene 6
They stand before a vast section of the temple’s paper wall, upon which a magnificent, though tragically faded, mural is painted. It depicts a sprawling narrative scene: a bustling village festival under a canopy of blooming Sakura trees, processions of nobles in elaborate dress, and serene monks in meditation. The colors are muted to ghostly shades of grey, ochre, and pale crimson, vast sections lost to time and damp. Cracks and water stains mar the beautiful artwork like ancient scars. The mural is a ghost of a memory, a vibrant history reduced to a pale, indecipherable whisper. The ethereal light from Kaito and his orbiting petals casts a gentle, shifting glow upon the surface, making the faded figures seem to move and flicker at the edge of perception. Elara leans in closer, her face inches from the delicate paper, her eyes scanning every faded line and damaged section with the precision of a surgeon. Her expression is a mixture of academic frustration and deep, empathetic sadness for the loss of this beautiful history. She can feel the life that once pulsed within these paintings, and the silence of their current state is a heavy weight. Kaito hovers beside her, his luminous form a stark contrast to the decaying artwork. He gazes at the mural not with the curiosity of a newcomer, but with the profound, weary familiarity of someone who has watched it fade, brushstroke by brushstroke, over centuries. His silence is heavy with unspoken memories, a direct, living link to the vibrant world now trapped and fading on the paper wall.
🎵 Tone: Melancholic / Hopeful
🎬 Scene 7
As Kaito’s spectral fingertips hover inches from the mural’s surface, a breathtaking transformation begins. A soft, golden light emanates from his hand, spreading across the faded paper like liquid sunshine. Where the light touches, the colours of the mural are instantly restored to their original, impossible vibrancy. The muted greys bloom into rich blacks, the pale ochres ignite into burnished golds, and the ghostly reds deepen into lustrous crimsons. But it doesn’t stop there. The restored figures on the wall begin to move. It is not animation in the modern sense, but a living Sumi-e painting. The painted festival-goers turn their heads and laugh, their movements fluid and graceful, like ink flowing on a page. The Sakura trees sway, and their painted blossoms detach from the branches, drifting across the scene in a gentle, two-dimensional breeze. The entire mural comes to life, a silent, moving window into a day five hundred years in the past. Elara watches, her breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide with an emotion that transcends mere academic discovery; it is pure, unadulterated wonder. The golden light from the mural reflects on her face, illuminating her features and the tears welling in her eyes. The scene is utterly silent, the moving images telling their story without a single sound, making the experience even more profound and dreamlike. The texture of the paper, the brushstrokes of the original artist, are all visible beneath the magical, moving tableau, a perfect fusion of the physical artifact and the spiritual memory it contains.
🎵 Tone: Miraculous / Breathtaking
🎬 Scene 8
The golden light of the living mural slowly recedes, the vibrant colours gently pulling back from the paper, and the fluid, ink-wash movements stilling until the wall is once again a faded, silent ghost of what it was. The magical moment has passed, but its impression lingers in the air, a profound after-image in the temple’s sacred atmosphere. The hall is returned to the cool, silvery light of the moon, punctuated by the soft, pulsing glow of Kaito and his orbiting Sakura petals. Elara slowly turns away from the mural to face Kaito, her eyes shining with unshed tears and a new, fierce determination. The experience has changed her; the academic curiosity has been forged into a powerful emotional connection, a sense of profound duty. Her posture is different—straighter, more resolute. She looks at Kaito, the ancient, lonely guardian, and sees not just a supernatural phenomenon, but a soul burdened with a precious story that is threatening to vanish forever. Her expression is one of deep empathy and conviction. Kaito watches her, his silvery eyes reading the shift in her demeanor. A flicker of something akin to hope crosses his serene, spectral features. The space between them feels charged, not with magic, but with a shared purpose, a silent understanding that has formed in the wake of the revealed memory. The swirling petals around them seem to glow a little brighter, a little warmer, responding to the change in the emotional atmosphere.
🎵 Tone: Determined / Emotional
🎬 Scene 9
Kaito listens to Elara’s earnest, heartfelt plea. His expression, which had softened with a glimmer of hope, now becomes shaded with a profound, ancient sadness. A gentle, melancholic smile touches his lips, a smile that doesn’t reach his luminous, weary eyes. He has seen empires rise and fall, seen the world outside his temple change in ways Elara can scarcely imagine. His wisdom is born from the long, slow pain of being forgotten. The Sakura petals swirling around him seem to respond to his melancholy, their light dimming slightly, their dance becoming slower, more somber. The air in the hall grows a little colder. He is not dismissing her, but offering a gentle, sorrowful caution. His semi-translucent form seems to flicker for a moment, the image of the wall behind him becoming clearer, as if his own conviction is wavering, or as if he is trying to protect her from the inevitable disappointment that comes with trying to make the modern world care for the ancient. He is a guardian not only of the temple’s story, but also of its peace, and inviting the world in is a risk he has contemplated for centuries. His gaze upon her is now filled with a paternalistic concern, the wise elder cautioning the passionate, idealistic youth. The moment is heavy with the weight of his experience and the purity of her intention, a clash between timeless memory and the fleeting nature of human endeavor.
🎵 Tone: Somber / Cautionary
🎬 Scene 10
Elara’s quiet, unshakeable conviction hangs in the silent air. It is a promise, an oath. In response to her words, she turns from Kaito and walks back to the central dais. The moonlight from the circular window once again bathes the ancient lectern in its silvery glow. With a gesture that is both gentle and resolute, she reaches out and places her hand, palm down, flat against the surface of the sacred scroll. It is not the hesitant, curious touch from before, but a firm, confident connection. A silent pledge. As her hand rests on the scroll, it emits a soft, warm pulse of golden light, the same light that brought the mural to life. The light travels up her arm, a painless, warm sensation, and the ethereal Sakura petals swirling in the room respond instantly. They cease their somber dance and rush towards her, swirling around her and the scroll in a bright, hopeful vortex. Kaito watches this from a distance, and for the first time, the deep, ancient sadness in his eyes recedes, replaced by a quiet, profound acceptance. A genuine, small smile graces his lips. He gives a slow, respectful nod, not just to her, but to the choice the temple’s magic itself seems to be making. He has found a new storyteller. The scene is imbued with a powerful sense of hope and the beginning of a new chapter for the ancient, sleeping temple. The final shot is a tableau of immense beauty and promise: the determined woman, the accepting spirit, and the reawakened magic, all bathed in the sacred light of the moon and the blossoms.
🎵 Tone: Hopeful / Uplifting