Contents
About Prompt
- Prompt Type – Scene-by-Scene
- Prompt Platform – Google Veo
- Language – English
- Category – Video/Story
- Prompt Title – VEO 3 Prompt – The Curse of Atlantis
Prompt Details
🎬 Scene 1
The scene opens to an impossibly vast, submerged cavern, a world untouched by time, rendered in breathtaking high-fantasy detail. The camera, acting as an ethereal observer, glides smoothly through the deep, sapphire-blue water, which is not murky but possesses a crystalline clarity, allowing visibility for miles. Gigantic, phosphorescent corals, in shades of electric cyan, vibrant magenta, and molten gold, grow like ancient forests from the cavern floor and ceiling, their gentle, pulsating light serving as the primary illumination source. This bioluminescence casts dancing, intricate shadows across colossal, cyclopean ruins that litter the landscape. These are the remnants of an Atlantean outpost, with towering basalt columns carved with intricate, spiraling glyphs that seem to hum with a dormant power. Schools of silver, glowing fish, like living constellations, swim in synchronized patterns through the arched doorways of crumbling temples. The water is thick with suspended particles of shimmering dust, possibly remnants of ancient magic, that catch the light like a starfield. In the center of this breathtaking panorama, two figures, Kaelen and Lyra, are dwarfed by the scale of their surroundings. They are swimming with slow, deliberate movements, their modern diving gear replaced by an unseen magical field that allows them to breathe and move freely, their hair and clothes swaying gently in the silent currents. They are approaching a monumental, sealed gateway, a perfect circle of obsidian set into the cavern wall, its surface covered in a matrix of the same glowing glyphs seen on the columns. The gateway seems to absorb the surrounding light, creating an area of profound darkness that contrasts sharply with the vibrant life around it. The very water around the gate seems colder, heavier, imbued with an ancient and solemn warning. The air, or rather the water, feels thick with anticipation and the weight of forgotten millennia. Every surface is coated in a thin layer of fine, crystalline silt that glitters under the magical light, and long, ghostly tendrils of phosphorescent algae drift from the tops of the ruins like ancient banners. The sense of isolation is absolute, a silent world of profound beauty and immense, sleeping power, a tomb and a cradle all at once.
🎵 Tone: Awe-inspiring / Mysterious
🎬 Scene 2
The circular obsidian gateway irises open with a silent, seamless perfection that defies physics, revealing not more water, but a pocket of breathable air within a vast, domed chamber. The camera follows Kaelen and Lyra as they drift over the threshold, the transition from water to air marked by a shimmering, membrane-like barrier that ripples as they pass through. Inside, the scale is even more staggering. The ceiling of the dome is a living star-chart, composed of millions of glowing crystals that mimic the constellations of a forgotten sky, casting a cool, silver-white light upon the scene below. The air is crisp, cool, and smells of petrichor, ozone, and something ancient and floral. The floor is a mosaic of polished obsidian, inlaid with intricate silver lines that form a complex, labyrinthine pattern leading towards a central, elevated dais. Water from the cavern outside cascades down the curved walls in shimmering, silent waterfalls, collecting in shallow, glowing canals that crisscross the floor, following the silver lines of the mosaic. Strange, crystalline trees with weeping, bioluminescent leaves grow in manicured groves along the chamber’s perimeter, their light shifting in colour from soft lavender to a pale, ghostly green. The atmosphere is one of profound, sacred silence, a sanctuary sealed for eons. The air itself seems to shimmer, charged with a potent, static energy that makes the hairs on their arms stand on end. Every footstep they take on the obsidian floor is silent, absorbed by the sheer stillness of the place. The chamber is a perfect fusion of advanced, otherworldly technology and pristine nature, a testament to a civilization that worked in harmony with cosmic forces. Kaelen looks around, his scientific mind struggling to process the impossible architecture and the palpable energy, while Lyra appears more at home, breathing in the ancient air as if it were a familiar memory, her entire being relaxing into the sanctified space.
🎵 Tone: Sacred / Wondrous
🎬 Scene 3
The camera follows Kaelen and Lyra as they walk the silver path towards the central dais. The path itself seems to guide their steps, the inlaid silver lines glowing brighter as they approach. The dais is a circular platform of the same polished obsidian, but it is surrounded by a ring of floating, crystalline shards that rotate slowly in the air, each one humming with a soft, resonant frequency. The air around the dais crackles with visible energy, distorting the view of the chamber behind it like a heat haze. In the absolute centre of the platform rests a single, colossal crystal, the size of a human torso. It is a flawless, heart-shaped artifact, pulsing with a gentle, inner light of the purest white. This is the Heart of Atlantis, the source of the chamber’s power. Its light is not harsh but inviting, yet the energy it radiates is immense, a contained storm of raw magic. The light from the Heart casts long, stark shadows that seem to dance and writhe at the edge of their vision. As they get closer, intricate, microscopic glyphs can be seen swirling deep within the crystal’s facets, a library of information moving too fast for the human eye to comprehend. The low hum that permeates the chamber intensifies here, becoming a tangible vibration they can feel in their bones, a powerful, rhythmic beat like a slumbering titan’s heart. Kaelen approaches with a mixture of academic reverence and raw caution, his hand hovering near the tools in his satchel, his mind racing to catalogue every impossible detail. Lyra, however, approaches with a solemn familiarity. Her silver nautilus amulet begins to glow with a soft, sympathetic light, pulsing in time with the Heart. She sees not just an artifact, but a presence, a consciousness that has been waiting patiently in the dark. The floating shards around the dais speed up their rotation slightly, their chiming hum rising in pitch, a subtle but clear sign that their presence has been fully registered by the chamber’s ancient systems.
🎵 Tone: Tense / Reverent
🎬 Scene 4
Driven by an insatiable, academic curiosity that momentarily eclipses his caution, Kaelen steps onto the dais. The camera zooms in on his hand, trembling slightly, as he reaches out towards the Heart crystal. The moment his fingertips make contact with its impossibly smooth surface, the universe of the chamber fractures. A catastrophic surge of brilliant, blinding white light erupts from the crystal, engulfing the entire scene and washing out all colour and detail for a split second. The sound is not an explosion, but a deafening silence, a total void of sensory input. When vision returns, the chamber is transformed. The serene, silver light from the crystal-studded ceiling has been extinguished, plunging the dome into a terrifying, oppressive darkness. The only light source is now the Heart itself, which no longer pulses with a gentle white glow, but now radiates a corrupt, violent, blood-red light. This crimson glow doesn’t illuminate; it consumes, casting everything in monstrous, dancing shadows. The silver lines in the floor now glow with the same malevolent red, no longer looking like star-charts but like veins filled with poison. The air, once crisp and clean, is now thick, heavy, and cold, crackling with a palpable sense of ancient, awakened wrath. A low, guttural, dissonant chord echoes through the chamber, a sound of immense wrongness that grates on the soul. The gentle trickle of the canals has ceased, and the crystalline trees now look like skeletal, thorny specters in the crimson gloom. Kaelen is thrown back by the initial surge of energy, landing hard on the obsidian floor. Lyra remains on her feet, a horrified expression on her face, her body now braced against a powerful, unseen force that seems to be pressing in from all sides. The curse has been triggered. The sanctuary has become a prison, a tomb activated by an unauthorized touch, and the ancient defense mechanism has begun its terrifyingly efficient protocol.
🎵 Tone: Catastrophic / Horrifying
🎬 Scene 5
From the now-malevolent, blood-red Heart crystal, a torrent of spectral energy bleeds into the air. It is not smoke or fire, but something more elemental, a viscous, semi-translucent substance that looks like swirling ink dropped in water, but glowing with an inner crimson light. This energy writhes and coalesces in the space above the dais, defying gravity. The camera focuses on this terrifying genesis as the tendrils of red and black energy weave together with terrifying speed and purpose. They form limbs, a torso, a head, rapidly building a colossal, humanoid silhouette that towers over Kaelen and Lyra. This is the Atlantean Shade. Its form is unstable, constantly shifting and flowing like a captured storm cloud, its edges trailing off into wisps of dark energy. Within its vaguely defined head, two points of intensely bright, cold, silver-white light ignite—the being’s eyes, devoid of any emotion save for an ancient, implacable purpose. The Shade is translucent, and through its swirling form, the distorted image of the chamber behind it can be seen. It has no discernible features, yet the impression of a powerful, armored warrior is undeniable. As its form solidifies, the floating crystalline shards that once chimed musically now orbit its head like a thorny crown, glowing with the same hellish red light as the Heart. The very air around it grows impossibly cold, and frost begins to creep across the obsidian floor, spreading out from the dais in fractal patterns. The Shade does not move aggressively; it simply finishes forming and hangs in the air, a silent, ten-foot-tall monument to ancient wrath, its burning silver eyes fixed on Kaelen, the one who desecrated the sanctum. Its presence is overwhelming, a psychic weight that crushes the hope from the chamber, replacing wonder with pure, primal dread.
🎵 Tone: Terrifying / Apocalyptic
🎬 Scene 6
The Atlantean Shade, now fully manifested, raises one colossal, semi-ethereal arm. The movement is slow, deliberate, and carries the weight of ages. It does not point a finger, but rather presents an open palm towards the intruders, a gesture that is both a warning and a final judgment. As it moves, the very fabric of the air seems to warp around it. Then, it speaks. The voice is not a sound that travels through the air but one that simply *exists* inside their minds, a psychic broadcast that is impossibly loud and deeply intimate at the same time. It is a chorus of a thousand voices—old and young, male and female—all speaking in perfect, layered unison, a chillingly calm and articulate form of archaic English. The words are imbued with an irresistible authority and a profound, cosmic weariness. With every syllable it utters, the entire chamber trembles violently. Dust and small fragments of crystal rain down from the darkened ceiling. The red light pulsing from the Heart crystal strobes in time with the Shade’s speech, casting the scene in a frantic, nightmarish rhythm. The power behind the voice is a physical force, pressing down on Kaelen and Lyra, making it hard to breathe, forcing them to their knees under the sheer weight of its ancient command. Lyra winces, clutching her head as the psychic voice invades her thoughts, but her eyes remain fixed on the guardian, a flicker of defiance mixing with her fear. Kaelen is completely overwhelmed, his scientific mind unable to offer any defense against this metaphysical assault. He can only stare up at the terrifying apparition, the words echoing not just in his ears, but in the very core of his being, stripping away all thoughts of history and discovery, leaving only primal, instinctual fear. The Shade’s message is simple, absolute, and offers no room for negotiation or appeal. It is the final word of a power that has judged them and found them wanting.
🎵 Tone: Doom / Overwhelming
🎬 Scene 7
Just as the Shade begins to lower its hand to deliver the final blow, a new light emerges in the oppressive crimson darkness. It doesn’t come from the crystal or the guardian, but from Lyra. The camera pushes in on her face, contorted in a mixture of pain and immense concentration. Her eyes are squeezed shut, but a soft, cyan light begins to seep from beneath her eyelids. Her silver nautilus amulet flares with this same brilliant blue-green light, so intensely that it momentarily pushes back the surrounding red gloom, creating a small, safe bubble of serene light around her. Then, the magic manifests on her skin. Intricate, swirling patterns, identical to the ancient glyphs on the chamber’s ruins, begin to appear on her arms and face. They are not tattoos, but lines of pure, living light, etched into her very being. They crawl across her skin, flowing and connecting, a visible manifestation of her awakening lineage. As these symbols of power blaze to life on her body, the dormant glyphs carved into the chamber walls and floor respond in kind. Across the vast dome, one by one, the ancient carvings begin to glow with the same protective cyan light, overriding the red of the curse. The chamber becomes a battleground of light, a web of serene blue pushing back against a tide of angry red. Lyra lets out a sharp gasp, not of pain, but of revelation, as a torrent of ancestral knowledge, memories, and power floods her mind. She is a descendant of the very people who built this place, a living key, and the curse recognizes her bloodline. The Shade pauses its attack, its silver eyes narrowing slightly as it registers this unexpected development, this ancient power stirring in a place it was meant to guard. For the first time, the implacable guardian shows a flicker of something other than cold duty: surprise.
🎵 Tone: Hopeful / Miraculous
🎬 Scene 8
The scene is a frantic tableau of desperate action. Lyra stands as the epicenter of a storm, a shield of swirling cyan energy emanating from her to form a protective dome around herself and Kaelen. The immense pressure from the Shade’s aura crashes against this barrier, causing it to flicker and spark violently. Her face is a mask of extreme effort, sweat beading on her brow, her arms outstretched as she channels every ounce of her newfound power to keep the colossal guardian at bay. The Shade, its patience apparently at an end, takes a slow, ponderous step forward. With each step, the ground quakes and Lyra’s shield groans under the strain, cracks of red energy appearing across its surface. Meanwhile, Kaelen, having scrambled to his feet, is a whirlwind of intellectual fury. His initial fear has been replaced by a desperate, problem-solving focus. He rushes to the nearest wall, the cyan light from the activated glyphs illuminating the pages of his journal. He frantically sketches the symbols, his hands moving with a speed born of adrenaline, cross-referencing them with his years of research. The camera provides quick, sharp cuts between Lyra’s strained face, the encroaching, terrifying form of the Shade, and Kaelen’s desperate work. The air is thick with the smell of ozone as the two opposing energies clash. Kaelen mutters to himself, a litany of dead languages and archaeological theories, his mind a racing engine trying to find a solution, a loophole, a way to appease the unstoppable warden before Lyra’s strength fails. He is the mind, she is the power, and they are locked in a race against time, a fragile partnership against an ancient, god-like entity. The tension is unbearable, the fate of their lives hanging on Lyra’s endurance and Kaelen’s ability to solve the oldest puzzle in the world in a matter of seconds.
🎵 Tone: Desperate / Action-packed
🎬 Scene 9
Amidst the chaos and the cacophony of the battle, a sudden moment of profound clarity descends upon Lyra. The camera pushes slowly towards her face, the frantic action around her blurring into the background. As the ancestral knowledge consolidates in her mind, her expression of strained effort softens, replaced by one of dawning, solemn understanding. The glyphs on her skin flare with a final, brilliant pulse, and her sea-green eyes snap open, now glowing with a calm, ancient wisdom. She no longer sees the Shade as a monster to be fought, but as a system to be answered, a lock that requires a specific, non-physical key. The riddle isn’t on the walls for Kaelen to solve with his intellect; it’s a question being asked directly of her bloodline. The noise of the battle fades away in the sound mix, replaced by the serene, choral music that signifies her connection to the past. She lowers her arms, and the cyan shield evaporates, much to Kaelen’s horror. But the Shade does not strike. It halts its advance, its silver eyes fixed on her, as if it recognizes the change in her, acknowledging her understanding. It stands before her, a silent, towering judge awaiting her answer. Lyra takes a deep, steadying breath, her body relaxing from its combat stance. She turns her gaze from the guardian to the malevolent, red Heart crystal on the dais. She now understands the price of passage, the nature of the trial. It does not demand a sacrifice of blood or power, but something infinitely more precious and personal. It requires an offering of the self, a demonstration of empathy and connection that stands in direct opposition to the cold, sterile logic of a machine or the brute force of an invader. It is a test of spirit, not of strength.
🎵 Tone: Epiphany / Serene
🎬 Scene 10
With a newfound, solemn grace, Lyra walks back to the dais, unafraid of the towering Shade that watches her every move. She stands before the corrupted, blood-red Heart crystal and gently places both her hands upon its surface. The camera holds on a tight shot of her face, her eyes closed, a single, luminous tear tracing a path down her cheek. She is not giving up a random thought, but her most cherished, private memory: a vision of her as a young girl on a windswept cliff, her own grandmother pointing out to the sea, telling her the ancient stories of her Atlantean heritage, the stories that set her on this path. As she offers this pure, heartfelt memory into the crystal’s matrix, the effect is instantaneous and profound. The violent, blood-red light within the Heart is consumed, purified by a wave of gentle, golden-white light that erupts from Lyra’s hands. This warm, healing light floods the chamber, a sunrise after a long night. The malevolent red that had tainted everything recedes and vanishes. The silver lines in the floor glow with a soft, warm gold. The crystalline trees shimmer with renewed, gentle life. The Atlantean Shade, its purpose fulfilled and its anger appeased, begins to dissolve. Its colossal form loses cohesion, breaking apart not into violent energy, but into millions of tiny, glittering motes of silver and blue light, like fireflies, which drift peacefully into the air before fading away. The curse is broken. The Heart of Atlantis now pulses with a gentle, steady, golden rhythm. The chamber is no longer a tomb or a prison, but a gateway. As the last mote of the Shade vanishes, a new sound is heard: a low, resonant hum as the far wall of the chamber becomes transparent, revealing a breathtaking, impossible vista—the living, gleaming, light-filled spires of the true city of Atlantis, waiting for them in a shimmering, sub-oceanic world. Lyra opens her eyes, which now reflect the golden light of the city, her expression one of sorrow, sacrifice, and ultimate triumph.
🎵 Tone: Triumphant / Bittersweet