CHAPTER-1: THE BOY
 A young boy named Tark lived in the heart of Zenith, a sprawling metropolis carved from the embrace of towering mountains and bordering an ethereal magical forest. Unlike his peers, whose ambitions soared towards the upper echelons of the city's rigid government, Tark's spirit yearned for the whispers of the unknown. Tales of ancient beings communing with trees, of dragons soaring amidst icy peaks, and of creatures possessing unimaginable power, ignited a fire within him – a yearning for adventure that defied the stifling confines of Zenith's walls. Tark's father, a prominent figure in the city's political sphere, envisioned a future for his son mirroring his own – a life dedicated to upholding the established order. Yet, Tark's heart belonged to the wild, untamed whispers of the world beyond. He dreamt of scaling those formidable mountains, venturing into the heart of the magical forest, of encountering the legendary creatures that his father dismissed as mere folklore. One evening, under the watchful gaze of a sky strewn with stars, Tark made a choice. With a backpack filled with meagre provisions and a heart brimming with resolute determination, he slipped out of his window and into the cool embrace of the night. He navigated the labyrinthine alleyways of Zenith, his senses heightened, seeking a weakness in the city's imposing walls. Just as he discovered a hidden opening, a gap concealed by overgrown vines, the sharp glint of torchlight caught his eye. Two guards, their faces obscured by the shadows of their helmets, had spotted him. "Halt!" one of them bellowed, his voice echoing through the stillness of the night. Tark's heart pounded against his ribs like a trapped bird. There was no time to think, only to act. He sprinted towards the dark embrace of the magical forest, the guards hot on his heels. He weaved through towering trees, their branches clawing at his clothes, his lungs burning with exertion. Tark tripped over a gnarled root, crashing to the forest floor. Despair threatened to engulf him as the guards' heavy footsteps drew closer. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for capture. But then, a strange sensation coursed through him. He felt a gentle nudge, a force urging him to rise. Opening his eyes, he saw a swirling vortex of leaves and wind swirling around him, propelling him back onto his feet. With renewed vigour, he surged forward, the magical wind at his back, leaving the bewildered guards behind in its wake. He continued deeper into the forest, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. He had escaped, aided by an unseen force, a whisper of magic that hinted at the wonders that awaited him beyond the walls of Zenith. For weeks, Tark wandered, a solitary figure amidst the sprawling canvas of nature. He slept under the open sky, the stars his companions, and the rustling leaves his lullaby. He learned to forage for food, to build shelter from the elements, to speak the silent language of the forest. His senses sharpened, attuned to the subtle rhythms of the wild. It was during these weeks of self-discovery that he stumbled upon an ancient tree, its gnarled branches reaching towards the heavens like the arms of a wizened sage. "Oh, ancient one," Tark inquired, his voice filled with the awe of a young boy confronting the embodiment of time itself, "why is our world so rigidly governed? What lies beyond the confines of this artificial order that Zenith has imposed upon us?" The tree, its bark etched with the stories of countless seasons, responded in a voice like the rustling of leaves, carrying the weight of ages, "Young one, the world you know was once ravaged by chaos. Monstrous creatures roamed the land, sowing fear and destruction. The government, with its rules and regulations, was established to protect humanity from these threats, to create order from the chaos
The ancient tree, its bark etched over time like wrinkles on a wise face, responded in a voice that was both raspy and gentle, like leaves rustling in the wind. "My child, long ago, our world was a place of chaos and fear. Monstrous creatures, born from the darkest corners of existence, rampaged across the land, leaving devastation in their wake. The government, with its strict rules and imposing walls, was erected as a shield to protect humanity from these terrors, to bring order to a world teetering on the brink of oblivion." Tark listened intently, his young mind struggling to reconcile the vibrant, life-filled forest around him with the image of a world consumed by darkness. "But what of the stories?" he inquired, his voice tinged with both curiosity and scepticism, "The tales of magnificent dragons soaring through the skies and colossal ice beasts roaming the frozen wastelands? Are they mere fables spun to frighten children, or do they hold a grain of truth?" The tree's branches swayed gently as if nodding in affirmation. "They are remnants, echoes of that bygone era," it replied, its voice carrying the weight of ancient knowledge, "These creatures, once harbingers of destruction, now reside on the fringes of our world, far beyond the reach of the government's control. They exist as testaments to the power of nature, to the wild spirit that still courses through the veins of this planet."" A spark ignited within Tark's heart, a yearning to witness these legendary beings with his own eyes. He imagined the majestic dragons, their scales shimmering like jewels, and the awe-inspiring ice beasts, their forms sculpted from the very essence of winter. He envisioned a world where humans and creatures coexisted, not in fear and conflict, but in harmony and mutual respect. Fueled by this newfound inspiration, Tark bid farewell to the wise old tree and set off on a perilous journey towards the icy peaks that clawed at the sky. He traversed treacherous slopes, his breath misting in the frigid air, his heart pounding with both trepidation and exhilaration. Finally, after days of arduous climbing, he reached a plateau overlooking a vast expanse of snow and ice. It was there that he witnessed a sight that would forever be etched into his memory. An ancient kingle, his beard as white as the snow beneath his feet, his eyes reflecting the wisdom of countless winters, stood locked in battle with a colossal ice beast. The creature, a behemoth of frozen muscle and fury, towered over the kingle, its roars echoing across the desolate landscape
The wind howled across the desolate plains, whipping Tark's cloak around him as he approached the kingle's glacial fortress. The kingle, an imposing figure despite his age, stood silhouetted against the swirling snow, his beard and hair as white as the frozen landscape. Tark, his youthful face hardened by his arduous journey, bowed low. "Venerable kingle," he spoke, his voice resonating with respect and determination, "I have traversed treacherous mountains and navigated perilous valleys to stand before you. Legends speak of your wisdom and mastery over the elements. I beseech you, to share your knowledge with me. Guide me on the path to harnessing such power, that I may use it to mend the fractured bonds between humanity and the creatures of this world." The kingle's gaze, as sharp and cold as the ice crystals swirling around them, held Tark in silent scrutiny for a long moment. A flicker of surprise crossed his weathered features, then a ghost of a smile. "Young one," the kingle's
(kingle are the people who left the zenith civilization in the past at the time when the planet was infected by magical beasts)
voice boomed, echoing across the frozen expanse, "the path you seek is not for the faint of heart. It is riddled with trials that will test your courage, your resolve, and the very core of your being. But," his eyes softened, glimmering with ancient wisdom, "I sense within you a spark, a potential that could ignite a flame of change. If you are truly prepared to face the challenges, I shall guide you on this perilous journey.