The morning after the spirits' arrival was unlike any Hassan had ever seen.The sun rose into a sky painted with two rainbows — one in the east, one in the west. Dew clung to the millet leaves in perfect spheres, each glowing faintly.
Patrick Abakar flitted beside Hassan as they walked between rows. "The silver rain has enriched your soil beyond mortal limits. Crops will grow three times as fast now… if you keep the Rift stable."
Hassan crouched to examine a sprout. Yesterday, it had been no more than a thumb's length. Now it stood almost to his knee, leaves wide and strong.
"Three times as fast?" Hassan muttered. "That's… impossible."
"Not impossible," Patrick said with a proud flutter. "Just magical."
At the far edge of the field, several fairies were hovering over a plot, their tiny hands releasing golden dust onto the seedlings. As the dust touched each plant, the leaves seemed to sing — a faint hum that resonated through the soil.
Beyond them, Prudence Moussa knelt beside a newly dug trench, her hands glowing with heat. The earth steamed as she shaped the mud walls, hardening them instantly into sturdy irrigation channels.
"Efficient," Hassan admitted.
Prudence smirked. "Dragons know the value of a well-prepared hoard. Your crops are part of yours."
Meanwhile, Arafa Moussa leaned casually against the farmhouse wall, watching the activity with that unreadable half-smile. "It's remarkable how much work gets done when magic replaces sweat," she murmured.
"Work is still work," Hassan replied, but he couldn't deny it — planting, watering, and tending that would normally take days was finished in hours.
Even the cyclops, Haroun, had taken part… in his own way. He had cleared an entire section of stubborn tree stumps by simply lifting them out with his massive hands. The ground shook with every step, but the man worked without complaint.
By midday, the fields looked as if a full season had passed overnight.
Yet Hassan's satisfaction was tempered by something else — the Rift.It loomed at the far end of the field, shimmering faintly even in daylight. And though the morning had been peaceful, he caught glimpses of new shadows moving inside, shapes that didn't match the friendly faces already here.
Patrick noticed his gaze. "The Rift doesn't close on its own. Others will come, Guardian — some drawn to your harvest, others to its power."
Hassan exhaled slowly. "Then we need to make sure this farm can feed friends… and fend off enemies."
The hum of the crops deepened, almost like agreement.
In that moment, Hassan realized the truth — this was no longer just a farm.It was the center of a new world. And if he played it right, it could be a place where humans, spirits, and magical beings worked side by side.
If he played it wrong… it could become a battlefield.