In the year 1200, following the mysterious disappearance of Queen Ploom—the beloved monarch of the Zency Kingdom—unease spread like a shadow. For eleven long years, no one knew what had become of her. Since that fateful day, the kingdom slowly withered: its strength fading, its people divided, and its wealth eroded by time and silence.
Far from the heart of the kingdom, on its poor and crumbling outskirts, lived twin siblings—Moner and Novamelle—twelve years old, with soft pink hair that shimmered like fading petals in the light. They lived with their parents in humble conditions. Their father, Vines, a skilled herbalist and master of natural remedies, crafted medicines from rare powders and herbs. Though his expertise was respected, it was no shield against the poverty that gripped not only his family but the entire kingdom.
Vines, a man in his fifties, wore the weight of his past upon his face—lined and serious, eyes that spoke of wisdom and quiet grief. Threads of gray streaked his hair, and though his clothes were simple, his presence bore the dignity of a healer who had weathered loss.
Beside him stood Nana, his wife. Also in her fifties, her features softened by sorrow, yet her eyes still carried warmth and unshaken tenderness. Her long, slightly curly hair framed a face that had known heartbreak, yet continued to offer comfort. Despite the years, she lived for her family, her hands steady and her embrace unwavering.
But Moner was not one to be defeated by hardship. He held a fire in his chest—a dream of becoming a merchant, and perhaps one day, even king. He made a quiet promise to himself and his family: things would not stay as they were.
Each week, the family visited the central garden—one of the few beautiful places left in Zency. Lively, green, and untouched by the decay spreading across the kingdom, it was a temporary escape. There, Moner and Novamelle played with their friends: John, a confident boy with sharp eyes and short brown hair, a year younger than the twins; and Sifor, older by two years, reserved and thoughtful, his thick lashes casting shadows over cautious eyes.
Often, their conversations turned to the Life Line—an eerie boundary known for strange creatures and dark stories.
"Do you really think it's a dangerous place?" Moner asked one afternoon.
John nodded. "I've heard people who cross the barrier return deformed… or never return at all."
Moner's eyes lit with curiosity. "There are legends buried there. I want to go. Hunt something. The creatures are valuable—worth a fortune."
Sifor frowned. "Don't be foolish. That place is dangerous."
Novamelle, always the voice of quiet logic, said, "It won't be if we stay near the edge. We'll be careful."
"Exactly," Moner added. "What do you think?"
John hesitated. "Why do you want to hunt?"
Novamelle replied, "We need to sell what we catch. We need the money."
Moner added, "But we'll train first. Get stronger."
John's voice turned apologetic. "I don't need money. My family's doing well."
Sifor shook his head. "I'm not risking my life for coin. You go without me."
Moner sighed. "Fine. We'll prepare on our own."
Later that day, after returning from the garden, they visited a small grave—overgrown with wildflowers. It belonged to their older brother, Kyle, who had died eleven years ago. Vines knelt by the grave, eyes filled with unshed tears.
"Your brother passed from illness," he whispered. "And even with all my knowledge… I couldn't save him."
Though the twins were too young to remember Kyle, the pain lingered like smoke in their home.
Days passed, and Moner and Novamelle began to train. With spears, arrows, and sharpened focus, they readied themselves for the hunt. Each week, they returned to the garden, their determination growing.
"Sifor," Moner urged one day, "won't you change your mind? Are you afraid?"
Sifor replied, "I'm not afraid. It's just not worth the risk."
Novamelle offered calmly, "My father and I have visited the Life Line before. We gather creatures. Plants. It's not as bad as they say."
Sifor looked away. "There are better things to do."
John chimed in, "My father, Shin, is a minister. I want to be like him someday."
Moner blinked. "What? You never told us that. But it's not fair! Becoming someone like him… it shouldn't be about inheritance. It should be about merit."
"I agree with you," John said softly.
Moner's voice deepened with resolve. "Sometimes I think I could become king. And if I did, I'd bring justice."
John nodded. "People have suffered. My father says if he could bring the old days back, he'd give his own body for it."
Sifor looked at the twins. "Why are your parents still so heartbroken?"
Novamelle answered, her voice gentle. "They lost Kyle. Even though they had us… they'll never forget their first son."