The silver rain sank into the earth without a trace, leaving the soil darker, richer, almost breathing.Hassan touched the wet ground. It pulsed faintly under his fingertips, as if the land itself had a heartbeat.
Patrick Abakar hovered beside him, wings trembling. "The Rift has fully awakened," he said softly. "The others will come now."
"Others?" Hassan straightened, scanning the shimmering portal.
The rift rippled once, twice — then tore wider.
First came a rush of hot air that smelled of ash and iron. Through it stepped a woman draped in crimson, her eyes the molten gold of a forge. At her back stretched vast, leathery wings that folded into nothingness as she took human form.
"Prudence Moussa," Patrick whispered. "Dragon of the Southern Peaks."
Prudence's gaze swept the field, lingering on Hassan. "So this is the Guardian?" Her tone was more appraisal than greeting.
Before Hassan could answer, another figure pushed through — tall, pale-skinned, with hair as black as midnight and eyes the color of old wine. She carried herself like royalty and smiled without showing her teeth.
"Arafa Moussa," Patrick said, his voice tight. "Vampire of the Night Court."
Arafa's smile deepened. "Don't look so tense, little guide. I only came to talk… for now."
The rift flared again, and this time light burst forth in a thousand colors. Dozens of small, winged shapes poured out — fairies of every hue, their laughter sharp and sweet. They darted over the fields, touching leaves and stems, leaving trails of glowing pollen.
Hassan staggered back, overwhelmed by the noise, the heat, the smell of magic thick as rain. "How many more are coming?"
Patrick's wings drooped. "Too many. And not all will be as polite."
Even as he spoke, a deep shadow emerged in the rift. Massive, armored, one-eyed — a cyclops warrior stepped through, each footstep shaking the ground. He carried a club that looked more like a tree trunk than a weapon.
The cyclops looked down at Hassan and grinned. "So you are the farmer who owns this land."
Prudence's eyes narrowed. "He is the Guardian."
The cyclops chuckled, a sound like boulders grinding together. "Guardian or not… I will test him."
The sky above the rift darkened. More shapes swirled in its depths — some winged, some crawling, some only a shimmer in the air.
Patrick darted in front of Hassan. "We need to set boundaries before they tear your farm apart."
Hassan looked at his once-quiet fields — now alive with dragons, vampires, fairies, and warriors. His hands clenched into fists. "This is my land. And if they want to stay, they follow my rules."
Prudence's mouth curved into a smile. Arafa tilted her head, curious. The cyclops only laughed.
Somewhere inside the rift, a new roar echoed — not of a dragon, but something far older.