The world was green and endless. Rolling hills, vast forests, and rivers that shimmered under a pale sun stretched as far as the eye could see. Every being in this world had wings — a symbol of freedom, yet also of identity. Despite their gifts, there was peace. No one had a power greater than the others. Equality reigned.

  But everything changed the day the Gate opened.

  A strange wind poured out — glowing, shimmering, alive. The elders had whispered of this for centuries, but none had ever seen it. This was no ordinary wind. It carried power, a force that could bend the will, the body, and the soul. The air swirled into the world, and the first to breathe it felt a spark deep inside — a sudden strength, a gift, a calling.

  People began to crave it. “More… I want more,” they whispered. One by one, they approached the Gate, longing for the power that promised freedom, dominance, or simply the chance to be extraordinary. Some returned changed. Others… never came back.

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  The elders acted quickly. Guards were stationed around the Gate, wings wide, eyes alert. The air that flowed from the Gate was no longer freely available. Only a few could touch it now, and those who did felt the weight of responsibility — and temptation.

  Among them was Irrai, a young winged being whose instincts told him to protect balance. He had seen the first few adventurers disappear. He had felt the surge of the power himself — but he did not take it carelessly. He knew the air’s strength was tied to the soul, and those who misused it could destroy more than just themselves.

  The world had changed. Equality shattered. Desire sparked conflict. The Gate had opened, and with it, a war waiting to happen.

  Yet amidst the chaos, some still wondered — could balance return? Could harmony be restored? The Gate waited, silent, glowing, and eternal, holding secrets that no one yet fully understood.

  And in the quiet corners of this green world, the wind whispered: “Power comes to those who breathe, but the form comes from within.”