February 23, 2046 – exactly twenty years after Ahmed vanished from Taunsa Barrage and returned forever changed.
The orchard behind the family home in Kot Addu had grown into something timeless. The original mango tree—planted by Khan Sahib when Ahmed was born—now stood as the central pillar, its trunk thick as three men, branches heavy with fruit that shimmered faintly with Elandrian starlight. The Eternal Bridge portal arch rose at the far edge, open and unguarded, its golden light a constant companion to the daily rhythm of life. Grandchildren—now numbering over sixty—ran laughing between trees, their hybrid traits flashing in the late-afternoon sun: wolf-scales glinting, fox-tails swishing, frost-breath making tiny snowflakes in the warm air.
Ahmed Khan—now 41 in appearance (High Human longevity keeping time gentle)—stood on the veranda, watching the chaos with the helpless grin of a father who knows resistance is futile. His white kurta was embroidered with ajrak and phulkari; his wives moved around him like a living constellation, each one a thread in the tapestry of two worlds. The spire in Elandria was home, but this courtyard in Kot Addu remained the true heart.
Today, however, the courtyard felt heavier. Ahmed's father—Khan Sahib—had been gone four months. The charpoy under the old tree still bore his ajrak shawl, folded neatly. The small earthen lamp Amina Begum kept lit every evening flickered softly. The family had mourned quietly—Saraiki kafis sung at dusk, Punjabi dirges blended with elven laments, beastkin howls under twin moons. Ahmed had carried his father's walking stick like a staff of office; grandchildren left mango blossoms at the tree roots.
But death in a world bridged by the Eternal Veil is never truly final.
At midnight, the portal arch flared—not gold, but silver-white, edged with the same soft light that once carried Pathanay Khan's voice.
A figure stepped through.
Tall. Straight-backed. Ajrak shawl draped exactly as he always wore it. Walking stick tapping gently.
Khan Sahib.
Not older. Not younger. Timeless.
Ahmed stood first—voice cracking.
"Abbu…?"
Khan Sahib smiled—the same rare, full smile that meant everything was right.
"Beta. I told you I'd bring back the river."
The family froze—then surged forward. Wives embraced him, children wept, grandchildren stared in awe.
Ahmed's throat closed.
"Abbu… how?"
Khan Sahib looked at his son, then at the gathered family—wives, children, grandchildren, legends flickering in the background like respectful guests.
"I crossed," he said simply. "Not to the other side of the bridge. To the other side of everything. And someone was waiting."
He raised his hand. A small, glowing orb appeared—Omnitrix-shaped but not quite. The device was sleek, silver-black, etched with Saraiki calligraphy and Arabic numerals, pulsing with a gentle green light.
"The One Who Watches All Worlds," Khan Sahib said. "He called it the Eternal Watch. Said I had lived a life of quiet bridges—between people, between pain and patience, between this world and the next. He offered me a second chance. Not to live again as I was. To live again as a guardian of stories."
He pressed the device to his chest. Green light flared—then settled.
"I am no longer just Khan Sahib. I am… the Storykeeper. And this—" he tapped the device—"lets me carry every tale, every legend, every voice that ever sang for love or justice. I can summon them, walk their paths, bring their wisdom where it's needed."
Amina Begum—Ahmed's mother—had been standing silently at the doorway. She walked forward—slow, steady. She touched his face.
"You're still you."
He covered her hand with his.
"Always, begum."
Ahmed stepped closer.
"Abbu… where did you go?"
Khan Sahib looked up—toward the stars, toward both skies.
"To a place between. Where all stories meet. And He—the Watcher—showed me the threads. Every rift, every bridge, every child who crossed. He said the bridge is strong, but the threads are fraying. New shadows rise—not Riftborn, but Echoes of Choice. People from fractured paths who chose differently. They want to rewrite the story."
He looked at his grandchildren—now young adults and teens—then at the youngest playing in the snow.
"That's why I came back. Not to rest. To walk again. To help you guard the story."
The device on his chest beeped softly.
Eternal Watch – Status Screen Activated
User: Khan Sahib (Storykeeper)
Current Location: Eternal Bridge Orchard (Nexus Point)
Sign-In Status: Available (First Daily Sign-In – High Density Story Node)
Base Template: Eternal Watch (Storykeeper Variant)
Current Abilities:
• Passive: Storyteller's Presence – +20% persuasion & emotional impact when telling stories; nearby allies gain +10% morale & clarity
• Active: Story Echo – Summon brief echo of any tale's emotion/lesson (calm, courage, resilience, etc.); 12-hour cooldown per legend
• Active: Tale of Resilience – Tell a short story to heal minor wounds + remove fear debuff (30-minute cooldown)
• Passive: City Echo – +30% stealth in crowds, +15% persuasion on city-dwellers
• Passive: Neighborhood Echo – +20% trust & aid from civilians & low-level criminals
• Passive: Elder's Wisdom – +25% insight into historical/ancestral pain with elders
• Passive: Barbershop Resonance – +30% persuasion & trust with community elders & working-class folk
• Passive: Tahajjud Calm – 90-second aura of peace + fear resistance (45-minute cooldown)
• Passive: Eastern Echo – +30% persuasion & calm with martial artists/monks Transformation Limit: 10 minutes per story (recharge 5–10 minutes) Scan Mode: Active – Scans new stories near significant events/figures Voice Command: Unlocked – "Watch, summon [Legend Name]" Master Control: Locked – Unlock with pure intent proof Self-Destruct Failsafe: Galactic radius if tampered with
Khan Sahib looked at the device—then at the family.
"He said the next journey begins in a world of heroes and gods. Marvel, they call it. Iron men, thunder gods, spiders, shields. And darkness rising again."
He looked at Ahmed.
"Beta… will you walk with your old man one more time?"
Ahmed's eyes filled—then cleared.
"Always, Abbu."
The family gathered closer.
Khan Sahib pressed the device.
Green light flared.
The rift to the Marvel Universe opened—red, blue, gold, black—swirling with infinite possibility.
He stepped forward—walking stick tapping, ajrak shawl fluttering.
The bridge welcomed him again.
This time, he led.
And the family followed.
The chapter closed on the orchard—quiet, waiting, blooming.
The bridge grew.
The story continued.