It's a small bedroom with a toy chest at the foot of the bed. The bookshelves are well-stocked with books labeled in a text you can't read. The window is wide open, and the wind is cool, blowing the curtains inward. The window looks out onto a wide lawn, with willow trees in the distance.

The trees are all willows, or something like willows, shedding tiny pale green leaves all over the path. It's late afternoon, and the sunlight is slanting and dim.

Despite the constant fall of leaves, the path is clear and wide. It's a dirt road, with what might be the marks of carriage wheels deeply furrowed into the hard ground. Although someone must tend it, the path is abandoned and feels as if it has been for a long time.

The path terminates into a shallow, rocky creek with a strong current. It's a bit murky, but tiny silver fish are visible as they swim by.

The vessel is a small ceramic jar with a faded blue glaze. It has a round body, a narrow neck, and a flaring brim, like a wide vase. It's definitely handmade.

The key is simple, like a skeleton key. It's silver, but badly worn. The wear indicates that it once hung on a chain or ring. It might unlock a garden fence or gate.