There they were. The arches, towering like spires, the wood around, still serene. It was a miracle that they still stood after all this time.

I couldn't believe it. I had come so far, and yet, there was still so, so much that I had yet to do.
I stopped. I smiled.
I took a breath in, the late-autumn air, crisp on my lungs.
You'd think it all dead and frozen in this age, but those birds still soldiered on, unseen. At least I had that.
Something had to be done. Something must be done.
I grasped the small leather bag in my hand, a small clack as the contents collided. I approached the arches, their shape beckoning me forth, as if the old structure's
walls stood standing. I felt cautious, hand to my shortsword as I approached...
I saw it. The altar. It was a large, stone altar. Vines of ivy intruded onto it's space, snaking and coursing, like the overgrowth on rest of the arches I saw
up-close. I readied my blade, and with the mightiest of effort, vanquished the common ivy from the top of the altar. I examined the top of the altar, 3 slots, each for
one of the gems. I rushed to the leather bag, and fumbled, my hands shaking from both the cold, and the fear and excitement of it all. I just had to set everything
into the right place, now. It all felt so complicated, but, in truth, it was just matching shapes.

First, the gem of Oak, a small, luminescent green acorn. I set it upon the right slot, and it began to softly florese.
Next, the gem of Ash, a sparkling shard the shape of a samara, the colours within churning and shifting.
Finally, the gem of Thorn, a small red pip fashioned into a haw.
It was time, I set it upon the altar, and waited. The altar moved back, revealing a staircase underneath. I produced a torch from my pack, whispered the incantation,
and let it erupt into flames. I put one foot forward onto the step, then another, delving into that world below that I heard so much about.