English is the language of magic

The air was still, carrying a faint breeze across the vast grassland.

The blades of grass were so short and delicate that they seemed no taller than a man's fingers, fluttering gently under the caress of the wind.

The sprawling field stretched endlessly in every direction, devoid of life or movement, except for a single tree standing atop the highest point of the meadow.

It was a magnificent tree—massive and commanding, its thick trunk rooted firmly into the earth as though it had been there since the beginning of time.

Its branches spread outward like the arms of a giant, creating an umbrella of shadow over the ground beneath it.

The sunlight poured down unrelentingly from the clear blue sky, high above—the sun's position marking the heart of midday.

Yet, under the tree's canopy, the ground was cool, serene, and untouched by the harsh rays of the sun.

And there, lying directly beneath the sprawling tree, was a boy.

He appeared to be about fifteen years old. His black hair was thick and slightly disheveled, as though it had been tousled by the wind itself.

His eyes—completely black—were closed, as if he were deep in slumber, unaware of the world around him.

For a moment, the meadow was perfectly silent, save for the rustling of grass and the occasional whisper of leaves from the solitary tree.

The perspective began to shift, closing in on the boy as his consciousness stirred. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

At first, his vision was filled with the sight of the tree's intricate branches, twisting and reaching towards the sky like the fingers of an unseen artist.

He stared for a moment, his expression etched with confusion, trying to comprehend where he was and what he was seeing.

His gaze dropped from the branches to his surroundings. He realized that he was lying in the soft grass, with the earth firm yet oddly comforting beneath him.

He turned his head slightly, only to see the enormous trunk of the tree looming behind him.

Its bark was rugged and ancient, lined with cracks and crevices that spoke of countless years weathering the elements.

The boy's face contorted in surprise. How is this tree so enormous? he wondered to himself, blinking rapidly. Trees of such size were rare, almost unreal.

As the thought lingered, he slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, looking down at his own body.

The sight of his clothes brought another wave of confusion.

"Why am I wearing leather clothes?" he said aloud, his voice soft but edged with disbelief.

His eyes dropped to his pants—brown and made of thick leather, stopping just at his knees.

The material looked rough, durable, and completely unlike anything he remembered wearing.

His shirt was no less strange: a loose, black tunic that hung off his frame, the fabric flowing slightly with every movement.

"What is this?" he murmured, his brows furrowing as he stared at himself. His voice seemed to vanish into the open air, swallowed by the quiet stillness of the meadow.

With a sigh, he shifted his weight and sat fully upright. The moment his gaze lifted, his eyes widened in shock.

Before him lay an endless expanse of green. The field sloped gently downward, creating a vast incline that led into the horizon.

There were no rocks, no obstructions—just an unbroken sea of vibrant grass.

There was a whole grassland here which was spread far and wide. Seeing this even Adam got very surprised and he was not able to take his eyes off it.

The wind swept through the meadow, and the grass swayed like waves on a calm ocean, their green hues shimmering beneath the sunlight.

The boy stared in silence, mesmerized. The sound of the wind rushing through the blades was strangely soothing, like a soft hum resonating through the earth itself.

For a long time, he simply watched, unable to tear his gaze away. Finally, a thought escaped his lips, a hushed whisper carried on his breath:

"How beautiful..."

He didn't know why he said it, but the words felt right. This place—this endless field—was unlike anything he had seen before.

It was tranquil, untouched, and pure, as if it had been carved out of a dream.

As his eyes followed the downward slope, they caught sight of something even more breathtaking.

At the far edge of the meadow, where the incline seemed to meet the horizon, there was a river.

Adam had never seen such a clear river in his life and he saw the water of the river as clear through it as if it were a glass.

Wide and gleaming, its waters reflected the sunlight like liquid silver, flowing lazily through the landscape.

The river's presence was calming yet imposing, a reminder of nature's quiet strength.

Beyond the river, the meadow gave way to a forest.

At first glance, the trees seemed sparse and evenly spread apart, their trunks rising like sentinels in a perfect rhythm.

But as the boy looked further into the distance, the forest grew denser. The trees huddled closer together, their branches intertwining to form a shadowy canopy that obscured the view of whatever lay beyond.

The boy's gaze lingered on the forest, his heart pounding faintly in his chest. There was something about the scene before him that felt both inviting and foreboding.

It was as though the meadow, the river, and the forest were calling to him, asking him to step forward and discover their secrets.

"This is incredible," he thought to himself, his mind racing with questions. Where was he? How had he come to be here? And why did everything around him feel so… alive?

He squinted into the distance, trying to see further, but the forest grew darker and more impenetrable the longer he stared.

The wind continued to hum, carrying the faint smell of grass and earth, as if the world itself was urging him to explore.

And yet, for now, he remained still—lost in the beauty of the scene before him, uncertain of what lay ahead.

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End of Chapter One