The morning sun had barely risen when Hassan spotted a ragged group gathered at the far edge of his farm, near where the Rift's swirling light still shimmered faintly. They looked like they hadn't eaten in days — their faces pale, clothes torn, eyes wide with a mixture of hope and fear. Hassan's heart tightened.
Over the last few weeks, more and more people had come through the Rift — strangers from strange worlds, looking for shelter, food, and safety. Most were wary of the magical land Hassan had claimed. They whispered of dangers and mysteries, and many had expected to be met with hostility.
But Hassan had a different idea. He walked calmly toward them, shoulders squared but eyes soft. "Come, sit," he said, waving toward the long rows of millet and beans ripening under the sun. "There is enough here for all of us."
The newcomers hesitated at first. Hunger made them desperate, but pride held them back. A small boy stepped forward, voice trembling, "You... you would share with strangers?"
Hassan smiled gently. "The land gives to all who work it honestly. Let us share what we have."
Word spread quickly across the Rift arrivals, and soon the farm's modest granaries opened their doors. Hassan and his small group of helpers cooked and served bowls of stew and fresh bread. Around the fire that night, stories were shared — tales of lost homes, journeys across strange worlds, and hopes for a better future.
That night, as Hassan lay under the stars, he realized something profound. This farm wasn't just a place to grow crops; it was becoming a community — a sanctuary where trust could take root, even in the shadow of an uncertain Rift.
From that day forward, Hassan's generosity became the foundation of a fragile but growing alliance. The newcomers learned to work the soil, to respect the spirits of the land, and to protect each other. And in return, Hassan gained more than just labor — he gained friends and allies.