By the third day, the Rift farm was buzzing like a marketplace.Fairies darted between rows, leaving sparkling trails. The dragon siblings, Prudence and Arafa Moussa, had carved a new granary out of stone. Haroun, the cyclops, was stacking boulders into what looked suspiciously like a watchtower.
It all looked… efficient. Too efficient.
Hassan stood in the center of the main field, arms crossed. "Stop."
The magic-users slowed, confused glances passing between them. Even the fairies paused mid-flight.
"This isn't a playground," Hassan said. "This isn't your domain. This is my farm."
Arafa tilted her head. "You summoned us here. Or at least, your land did. We assumed—"
"You assumed wrong," Hassan cut in. "I'm grateful for the help, but there are rules."
Patrick Abakar fluttered nervously at his shoulder. "Hassan, perhaps we can—"
"No," Hassan said. "This needs to be clear now, or it never will be."
He turned to the gathered crowd — fairies hovering, dragon siblings lounging, Haroun looming at the back.
"Rule one — no fighting on my land. If you've got a grudge, take it past the river.Rule two — no using magic on the crops unless I approve it.Rule three — everything we grow here gets divided fairly. That means no stealing for your hoard, no sneaking it through the Rift, and no special treatment for anyone."
Prudence's eyes narrowed. "And if someone ignores your rules?"
"Then they leave," Hassan said simply. "I don't care if you're a fairy prince or a dragon princess. This farm stays peaceful, or you go."
The silence that followed was heavy. Hassan could feel the tension knotting in the air.
And then, the challenge came.
A deep, rumbling voice spoke from the Rift's edge. "And what if the land itself says otherwise?"
The crowd parted. A massive figure stepped out of the Rift — a bull-headed giant, horns like scythes, eyes glowing red. His hooves cracked the earth as he moved closer.
Patrick's wings froze mid-flap. "Minotaur… one of the Rift's ancient guardians."
The giant's gaze locked on Hassan. "If this farm belongs to you, prove it. Keep it… against me."
Hassan's pulse thundered. He had expected arguments, not immediate war. But the rules had been spoken. Now, he'd have to defend them.