Contents
About Prompt
- Prompt Type – Scene-by-Scene
- Prompt Platform – Google Veo
- Language – English
- Category – Video/Story
- Prompt Title – VEO 3 Prompt – The Blade of the Fallen Empire
Prompt Details
🎬 Scene 1
An expansive, ruined imperial library, captured in the melancholic light of a late afternoon sun. Golden rays pierce through shattered stained-glass windows, illuminating swirling motes of dust that dance like forgotten memories. Enormous, dust-choked bookshelves, carved from dark, rich mahogany, line the cavernous hall, many toppled over, spilling their priceless, decaying scrolls and leather-bound codices across the marble floor like fallen soldiers. A colossal, frescoed ceiling, depicting the empire’s founding myth, is cracked and peeling, with sections missing, revealing the skeletal wooden beams beneath. In the center of the room stands Cassian, a lone figure amidst the wreckage of knowledge. He pores over a massive, unfurled parchment map laid out on the only intact stone lectern. The map is brittle with age, its inks faded, depicting jagged mountain ranges and forgotten riverways. The air is thick with the scent of old paper, dry rot, and the faint, earthy smell of rain from a recent storm that has seeped through the crumbling walls. The silence is profound, broken only by the gentle whisper of wind through the broken architecture and the soft rustle of parchment as Cassian’s fingers trace a path across the ancient cartography. Every detail is rendered with hyper-realistic texture, from the individual grains of wood on the shelves to the intricate filigree on the lectern’s base, creating a palpable sense of loss and history.
🎵 Tone: Somber, Introspective, Melancholic
🎬 Scene 2
A primeval, mist-shrouded forest at dawn. The air is cold and damp, clinging to everything in a shroud of ethereal white. Gnarled, ancient oak trees, their branches draped in moss like old men’s beards, loom out of the fog like silent sentinels. The forest floor is a soft carpet of damp leaves and dark, loamy earth, muffling all sound. The light is diffused and silvery, filtering weakly through the thick canopy and the pervasive mist, creating a world of soft edges and deep, mysterious shadows. Cassian moves cautiously through this labyrinthine environment, his hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword, his breath pluming in the cold air. Suddenly, Eira materializes from the mist directly in his path, seemingly from nowhere. She stands perfectly still, a short-axe held loosely but ready in her hand. Her expression is unreadable, her piercing blue eyes fixed on him. A drop of dew clings to the end of a red strand of her hair, catching the faint light. The tension is immediate and electric, a clash of two worlds in the silent, waiting forest. The scene is shot with a shallow depth of field, blurring the background into a painterly blend of greens and greys, focusing intensely on the two figures and their silent confrontation.
🎵 Tone: Tense, Mysterious, Wary
🎬 Scene 3
An epic, sweeping panorama of a desolate, windswept mountain ridge at sunset. The sky is a dramatic canvas of fiery oranges, deep purples, and bruised blues. Far below, a vast, untamed valley stretches to the horizon, its forests and rivers rendered in miniature by the staggering altitude. The wind is a constant, physical presence, whipping at the cloaks of Cassian and Eira as they pause on their journey. They stand near a cluster of weathered, lichen-covered standing stones that seem to hum with ancient energy. The air is thin and bitingly cold. Eira points towards a distant, jagged peak, its summit wreathed in dark clouds. Cassian follows her gesture, his face etched with a mixture of fatigue and grim determination. For a moment, the animosity between them recedes, replaced by a shared awe and trepidation at the scale of the landscape and the task ahead. The light of the setting sun catches the contours of their faces, casting long, dramatic shadows behind them. The sheer, raw beauty of the natural world dwarfs them, emphasizing their vulnerability and the monumental nature of their quest. The cinematic quality is paramount, with every detail of the landscape rendered in sharp, breathtaking clarity, from the texture of the rock under their feet to the movement of individual clouds in the sky.
🎵 Tone: Awe-inspiring, Epic, Wary Respect
🎬 Scene 4
The entrance to an ancient tomb, carved into the sheer, black rock face of a mountain. The design is stark and monolithic, clearly of Imperial make but weathered by centuries of neglect. Two colossal stone sentinels, their faces eroded into featureless masks by wind and ice, flank a huge, circular stone door sealed with intricate, interlocking carvings. The carvings depict scenes of Imperial conquest, now partially obscured by creeping moss and dark, wet lichen. A palpable aura of cold and dread emanates from the sealed entrance. Meltwater trickles down the rock face, gathering in icy pools at the base of the door. The air is still and heavy, and the sky above is a leaden grey, threatening snow. Cassian stands before the door, running his gloved hand over the cold, familiar carvings of his lost empire. Eira hangs back, her hand resting on her axe, her expression a mixture of caution and distaste. The sheer, oppressive silence is unnerving, as if the mountain itself is holding its breath. The scale of the entrance is immense, designed to intimidate and inspire awe, but now it only serves as a grim monument to forgotten power. The scene is drenched in a cold, blue light, enhancing the feeling of desolation and ancient mystery.
🎵 Tone: Ominous, Foreboding, Somber
🎬 Scene 5
Inside the tomb, the air is stale and frigid, smelling of dust and stone. The only light comes from a single, sputtering torch held aloft by Cassian, which casts long, dancing shadows that writhe and twist like living things. They are in a long, narrow corridor lined with sealed sarcophagi in wall niches. The torchlight glints off flecks of mica in the polished granite walls. Ahead, the corridor opens into a small antechamber, the floor of which is a perfectly preserved mosaic depicting a coiled serpent. As Cassian steps forward, Eira suddenly grabs his arm, her eyes wide with alarm. She points down at the mosaic with her axe. The torchlight reveals that one of the mosaic tiles under Cassian’s foot is slightly depressed. A low grinding sound echoes from deep within the walls, and the shadows seem to deepen. The tension is razor-sharp as they freeze, caught in a moment of imminent danger. The detail is claustrophobic and immediate: the texture of the rough-hewn stone, the intricate detail of the mosaic tiles, the way the torchlight catches the sweat on Cassian’s brow. The limited light source creates a feeling of intense confinement and uncertainty, with unseen threats lurking just beyond the pool of flickering light.
🎵 Tone: Suspenseful, Claustrophobic, Tense
🎬 Scene 6
They enter the main burial chamber, a vast, circular room with a domed ceiling that soars into darkness, far beyond the reach of their torchlight. The walls are covered in elaborate, faded frescoes depicting the entire history of the fallen empire, from its glorious birth to its fiery, apocalyptic end. In the exact center of the chamber, a single, pure white beam of ethereal light pierces the gloom from an unseen source high above, illuminating a simple, unadorned obsidian pedestal. Resting upon this pedestal is the Blade of the Fallen Empire. It is not ornate or bejeweled, but a masterwork of deadly simplicity. Its metal seems to drink the light, a deep, starless black, with edges honed to an impossible sharpness. A faint, silvery mist swirls around its base, and the air around it hums with a silent, contained power. The sheer reverence of the scene stills them both. The dust in the air glitters like diamonds in the single beam of light. After the claustrophobic corridor, the immense scale of this chamber is breathtaking and humbling, a cathedral dedicated to a single, legendary weapon. The atmosphere is one of sacred silence and immense, ancient power waiting to be reclaimed.
🎵 Tone: Awe, Reverence, Wonder
🎬 Scene 7
Cassian stands before the obsidian pedestal, his hand outstretched, fingers trembling slightly as he reaches for the hilt of the Blade. As his fingertips are a mere inch from the weapon, the ethereal light in the chamber intensifies and flickers violently. The air grows impossibly cold, and a spectral, translucent figure coalesces from the swirling mist around the Blade. It is the last Emperor, clad in ethereal, ghostly battle armor, his face a mask of regal disappointment and sorrow. His form is semi-transparent, shimmering with an angry, blue-white light, and his eyes are hollow pits of shadow. He does not speak aloud, but his voice booms inside Cassian’s head, a psychic assault of command and despair. Cassian recoils, clutching his head, his face contorted in pain and shock. Eira, standing back, cannot see the phantom emperor clearly but reacts to the sudden drop in temperature and Cassian’s distress, drawing her axe with a grimace. The ghost of the Emperor raises a translucent, commanding hand, not towards Cassian, but towards the Blade, as if forbidding him from touching it. The scene is a maelstrom of supernatural energy, the serene atmosphere shattered by this spectral confrontation.
🎵 Tone: Supernatural, Confrontational, Shocking
🎬 Scene 8
The psychic assault intensifies. The chamber around Cassian seems to dissolve into a nightmarish vision of his past: the burning capital of the Empire, smoke-choked skies, the screams of the dying, the glint of enemy steel. These fleeting, traumatic images flash across the screen, intercut with the ghostly Emperor’s accusing, sorrowful face. Cassian is on one knee now, his body trembling, sweat pouring down his face as he battles the overwhelming guilt and despair being forced upon him. The Blade on the pedestal pulses with a malevolent, cold light, resonating with the ghost’s power. Eira, seeing him falter, steps forward into the edge of the central light beam. She doesn’t shout orders, but her voice cuts through the psychic chaos with its grounded, direct tone. Cassian’s eyes, previously unfocused and lost in the vision, flicker and find her. Her determined, unwavering gaze acts as an anchor, pulling him back from the brink of mental collapse. He grits his teeth, his expression shifting from agony to a furious, defiant resolve. The visions begin to recede, pushed back by his sheer force of will, bolstered by Eira’s presence. The scene is an intense, kinetic montage of internal and external struggle, a battle for a man’s soul fought in a matter of seconds.
🎵 Tone: Dramatic, Intense, Inner Conflict
🎬 Scene 9
With a defiant roar, Cassian surges forward, ignoring the spectral Emperor’s silent scream of rage. His hand closes around the hilt of the Blade. The moment he makes contact, a shockwave of pure white energy erupts from the weapon, instantly vaporizing the ghostly figure and blasting outwards through the chamber. The frescoes on the walls crack and shatter, dust and stone exploding from the domed ceiling. The entire tomb groans under the strain, and huge chunks of rock begin to fall from above. The single beam of light from the ceiling is extinguished, plunging the chamber into near-total darkness, illuminated only by the faint, cold light now emanating from the Blade itself. Cassian stands firm, the weapon feeling impossibly light and perfectly balanced in his hand. Eira is already moving, pulling him by the arm towards the exit. The scene is pure, kinetic chaos and urgency. The sacred silence is replaced by the deafening roar of a collapsing structure. The air is thick with choking dust, and the ground trembles violently beneath their feet. It is a desperate, adrenaline-fueled race against time to escape the tomb before they are buried alive.
🎵 Tone: Urgent, Action-packed, Triumphant
🎬 Scene 10
Cassian and Eira burst from the mouth of the tomb, tumbling out into the harsh, bright light of day. They collapse onto a snow-dusted ledge, coughing and gasping for air amidst a cloud of billowing dust from the entrance behind them. The immense stone door of the tomb cracks and then shatters, and the entrance caves in completely with a final, thunderous boom, sealing the ancient passage forever. Silence descends, broken only by their ragged breathing and the lonely whistle of the wind. Snow has begun to fall in gentle, swirling flakes. Cassian slowly gets to his feet, still holding the Blade. He holds it up, not in triumph, but with a heavy, somber reverence. The weapon’s dark metal seems to absorb the grey daylight, showing no reflection. Eira pushes herself up, watching him. Their faces are smudged with dirt and grime, their expressions exhausted but resolute. They exchange a long, meaningful look – no longer just a client and a guide, but two survivors bound by a shared ordeal. The camera pulls back to reveal them standing on the edge of the world, the vast, unforgiving landscape stretching out before them, their new, perilous journey just beginning.
🎵 Tone: Hopeful, Grim, Resolute