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Real-life photography look, documentary realism, no fantasy art style, no painting, no illustration. To the left stretches an autumnal landscape with ruins and ancient structures, from which blue crystal mist rises and winds its way towards the sky; to the right, a summer landscape from which blue crystals sprout. High, snow-covered mountains reminiscent of the Dolomites rise into the cloudy sky to the left, and near a ritual temple stands a slender, curvaceous Vietnamese woman in her early twenties. She has pink braided hair with blue streaks, delicate tattoos, piercings, and makeup. Underneath a printed, black and red motorcycle jacket with fur trim, she wears denim overalls. She give with her hands a learned elderly man with a beard, dressed in Venetian clothing, an oblong scroll cylinder with a wax seal, away from the large, richly ornamented marble portal with intricate patterns, artfully integrated with bioluminescent panels and pulsating hologram displays that convey information. The portal's opening shimmers with a bluish glow, a gateway to another world. A friendly, attractive young woman in elegant traditional dress presses the panel on the portal, Further back, to the left, thin branches from various trees lie scattered about. The ground is covered with colorful leaves and autumn grass. A man and a woman with a child are escorting a horse-drawn cart, pulled by two horses and loaded with sacks of wheat and crates of food away from the viewer. Both are dressed in Venetian style with fur coats.
Suddenly, as if from nowhere, a cylinder of scrolls materialized in her hands, sealed with wax.
When the blue shimmer finally faded completely, Sima stumbled more than stepped outside—and almost directly into the arms of a finely dressed, elderly scholar with a beard.
The portal was apparently located just outside a small town. A horse-drawn cart rumbled past on the nearby road, laden with sacks and crates. Autumn leaves lay scattered everywhere, and the landscape seemed vast and varied. In the distance, mountains rose, their peaks already dusted with winter.
©️ Vina Carat - The Nasarij part 5 Story
