Ivory, Ancestor, Endure

There it is, locked away in the basement for generations. It's a shame... and a mystery. The ivory sculpture of your matriarch, the woman who established your family's grand estate, surely belongs elsewhere. The manor courtyard where she enjoyed reading. The botanical gardens she helped cultivate. Even the town square where everyone would look up and remember the person who brought their beloved city to life.

You weave around the maze of dusty boxes and covered furniture. When you reach the statue, you begin to survey its dimensions and possible weight. Getting this thing out shouldn't be too difficult; just make a path to the door and have six strong men lift it onto a wheeled platform.

Your finger goes to wipe off some dust from the statue's cheek. As skin touches ivory, a shock runs down from your fingertip to your heart.

Do not fear.

You pause. There's no one else in the room. You're sure of it. But... it's not true. The stories can't be true...

I have remained to help my lineage continue my work. You are the next to assume the mantle.

You can't pull your finger away. The voice becomes louder. The statue's eyes have come to life. Your gaze is caught within the pale orbs.

Endure this and you will know your future.

The visions come.