The sun was setting behind the Rift's jagged edge when Hassan noticed something wrong in the northern fields. The crops, once vibrant and thriving, were withering at an unnatural pace, their leaves curling black as if touched by shadow.
Hassan's heart tightened. He had heard tales of rogue spirits—those who rejected harmony and sought to sow chaos in the mortal realm. Now, one had found its way into his land.
With a lantern in hand, Hassan approached the edge where the Rift's magic was strongest. The air shimmered, and from the swirling mist emerged a figure—neither fully spirit nor human, its eyes glowing with restless anger.
"You trespass," the spirit hissed, voice echoing like wind through dry leaves. "This land is cursed, and you will fall with it."
Hassan stood firm. "This is my farm, and I protect it. Leave now, or face the consequences."
But the spirit laughed—a sound that chilled the bone—and unleashed a wave of dark energy that wilted a nearby tree instantly.
Realizing that words alone would not suffice, Hassan reached for the enchanted staff his mother had given him, the one that pulsed with ancestral magic. He chanted an ancient incantation taught by Nana, weaving light and earth energy to counter the spirit's darkness.
The battle was fierce; the spirit twisted and struck with furious blasts of energy, but Hassan's resolve held. Slowly, the dark figure weakened, bound by the strength of the land and the farmer's will.
Finally, with a last desperate scream, the spirit dissipated into the Rift's mist, leaving behind a faint glow of peace.
Breathing heavily, Hassan knelt among his crops, whispering a prayer for renewal and balance.
This encounter was a harsh reminder: the Rift's magic was both a gift and a burden. To protect his farm and the harmony between worlds, Hassan would need to be more than a farmer—he would need to become a guardian.