The dawn broke with an uneasy silence over the Rift. Hassan stood at the edge of the fields, the morning mist curling around his boots like whispered warnings. The air felt heavy, charged with a dark energy that hadn't been there before.
The Rift's warning had come true.
From the shadows beyond the shimmering portal, twisted shapes began to emerge — demons, their eyes burning with malevolent fire and claws sharp as sickles. They moved with a terrible purpose, driven by hunger and rage.
Hassan's heart pounded as he sounded the alarm. The Rift Farmers' Guild sprang into action, humans and magical beings alike arming themselves to defend the land they had worked so hard to cultivate.
The demons descended like a storm, tearing through crops and tearing at the earth itself. Hassan fought side by side with Patrick, Arafa, and even the reluctant spirit allies who had once been strangers.
The battle raged for hours, the sun rising high as fire met magic, steel clashed against claw, and the ground trembled beneath the fury.
In the midst of chaos, Hassan remembered the holy fairy's gift — the sacred seed. Racing back to the glade, he found the plant grown into a towering tree, its branches shimmering with protective light.
With a shout, Hassan called the Guild together beneath its shade. The tree's magic spread like a shield, pushing the demons back and turning the tide of battle.
But the cost was high. Fields lay scorched, and many were injured. The Rift had changed forever, and Hassan realized this was only the beginning.
As night fell, the demons retreated, their dark forms swallowed by the Rift's edge. Hassan looked to the sky, his resolve hardening.
The Rift Farmers' Guild would endure. They would fight not just for survival, but for the future of all realms connected by the Rift.