The room is somewhat small. There is a simple bed in one corner, a dresser and mirror in another. The only light is a single lamp on the dresser. The room is warm, but there is an eerie feeling to it, almost as if I would find something were I to look under the bed.
Apparently it is winter, as the ground and the trees are covered with snow. The trees are tall, reaching up out eyes' reach, but they are terribly thin and bereft of leaves.
The path I am walking on is wide, but barely visible. The last traveler to take this path must have come by months ago. Over to my right, there is a second path, thinner than mine, but well-traveled nonetheless.
The water is actually a large lake. The place is quiet and serene, peaceful. The water barely moves. It is a rich, dark green color, like one could expect from any natural body of fresh water. The lake appears very deep, perhaps even fragile in its stillness.
It is an elaborate chalice of silver, engraved with images that are meaningless to me. The chalice does not look old or worn, it looks bright and shiny and new; pure.
The key is old-fashioned. Rust flakes off of it visibly. The end for a keyring is large, while the unlocking end is simple. It appears to be something that would unlock an ancient treasure chest or perhaps drawers filled with secret papers.