Vision Description Text

You see a serene landscape: Verdant fields stretch endlessly under the golden sun. Majestic mountains stand as silent sentinels on the horizon, their peaks crowned with eternal snow, casting beautiful, albeit strange-angled, shadows. A gentle breeze carries the scent of blooming flowers and the distant songs of unseen birds, creating an atmosphere of timeless peace.

Amidst this tranquil beauty, a figure emerges—a man of strength and purpose, his eyes gleaming with determination. He treads softly upon the lush grass, drawn to a secluded glade bathed in the soft glow of twilight. Here, embedded in the earth, lies an ancient blade, radiating a mystical light. As the man grasps the sword, the name Elanvathil inscribed along its side shimmers with an ethereal glow, casting an otherworldly halo that illuminates the surrounding foliage.

Now, you suddenly see a bustling yet peaceful bakery. The air is rich with the aroma of freshly baked bread, mingling with the warmth of ovens and the cheerful chatter of patrons. Sunlight streams through the windows, partially obscured by the gnarled branches of a beautiful Silver Oak. A humble baker works contentedly, his hands kneading dough with practiced ease.

Suddenly, the tranquility shatters. The scene darkens, and an ominous silence descends. The bakery’s peaceful ambiance is pierced by the harsh, metallic sound of a door slamming open. A shadowy figure, cloaked in darkness, advances with the ancient blade in hand. The name Elanvathil gleams menacingly in the dim light.

Time slows as the intruder strikes. The baker's eyes widen in shock and pain as the sword pierces his chest. His blood mingles with the flour on the floor, a vivid red staining the pristine white. The name Elanvathil catches the light one final time.

The vision fades, leaving behind the image of the ancient sword, a haunting reminder of the power and peril that lie within the hands of those who seek to wield it.