There was a time when the world did not belong to kings, nor to armies, nor even to the ambitions of men who believed they could shape history with the edge of a sword. In that distant age, long before the rise of empires and the carving of borders across the lands, the world breathed slowly and quietly like a sleeping giant whose dreams were older than the stars themselves. The forests stretched endlessly across the continents, their ancient trees rising like silent guardians that had watched centuries pass without speaking a single word, while rivers carved their paths through valleys untouched by the weight of civilization.
There was a time when the world did not belong to kings, nor to armies, nor even to the ambitions of men who believed they could shape history with the edge of a sword. In that distant age, long before the rise of empires and the carving of borders across the lands, the world breathed slowly and ...