Word count: approximately 5,300 words
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 eternal. 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.
Amina Begum had been gone four months.
The charpoy under the old mango tree still bore her ajrak shawl, folded neatly. The small earthen lamp her grandchildren 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 her rolling pin like a staff of office; great-grandchildren left jasmine 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, not silver, but soft emerald-green, edged with the same gentle light that once carried Pathanay Khan's voice.
A figure stepped through.
Small. Straight-backed. Ajrak shawl draped exactly as she always wore it. Rolling pin tucked under her arm like a scepter.
Amina Begum.
Not older. Not frail. Radiant.
Ahmed stood first—voice cracking.
"Ammi…?"
Amina smiled—the same warm, knowing smile that could silence a crying child or calm a storm.
"Beta. I told you I'd bring back the chai."
The family froze—then surged forward. Wives embraced her, children wept, grandchildren stared in awe.
Ahmed's throat closed.
"Ammi… how?"
Amina looked at her son, then at the gathered family—wives, children, grandchildren, legends flickering in the background like respectful guests.
"I crossed," she said simply. "Not to the other side of the bridge. To the other side of everything. And someone was waiting."
She raised her hand. A small, glowing orb appeared—emerald-green, etched with Saraiki calligraphy and Arabic numerals, pulsing with gentle healing light.
"The One Who Watches All Worlds," she said. "He called it the Eternal Hearth. 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 healing."
She pressed the device to her chest. Green light flared—then settled.
"I am no longer just Amina Begum. I am… the Hearthkeeper. And this—" she tapped the device—"lets me carry every recipe, every lullaby, every act of love that ever soothed a wound. I can summon them, walk their paths, bring their warmth where it's needed."
Ahmed's mother—now the matriarch in her place—stepped forward, tears streaming.
"Begum… you're still you."
Amina smiled.
"Always."
She looked at the family.
"I've seen everything I needed to see. Two worlds. One family. One love."
She looked at Ahmed.
"Beta… I'm ready to walk again. One last journey—before the river takes me home for good."
Ahmed felt the words like a quiet thunder in his chest.
"Ammi… where did you go?"
Amina 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 new shadows rise—not Riftborn, but Fractured Echoes. People from broken timelines who chose differently. They want to rewrite the story."
She looked at her 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 her chest beeped softly.
Eternal Hearth – Status Screen Activated
User: Amina Begum (Hearthkeeper)
Current Location: Eternal Bridge Orchard (Nexus Point)
Sign-In Status: Available (First Daily Sign-In – High Density Healing Node)
Base Template: Eternal Hearth (Healer/Support)
Current Abilities:
• Passive: Mother's Warmth – Aura of calm + minor healing (5 HP/sec) to all allies within 50 meters; immune to fear/anger manipulation for 30 seconds after activation
• Active: Recipe of Resolve – Summon any healing remedy/comfort food from any culture/world; restores 50% health + removes debuffs (1-hour cooldown)
• Active: Lullaby of Comfort – Sing a Saraiki/Punjabi lullaby to heal emotional wounds + remove despair debuff (45-minute cooldown)
• Passive: Hearth Presence – +20% persuasion & emotional stability when offering food/drink
• Passive: Family Echo – +15% healing effectiveness when near family members Transformation Limit: Not applicable (healer template – no physical transformation) Recharge Mode: Green (Ready) Scan Mode: Active – Scans new healing stories/acts of love near significant emotional events Voice Command: Unlocked – "Hearth, summon [Remedy/Lullaby Name]" Master Control: Locked – Unlock with pure intent proof Self-Destruct Failsafe: Healing Overload (massive area heal + user exhaustion if misused)
Amina looked at the device—then at the family.
"He said the next journey begins in a world of heroes and gods. DC, they call it. Caped crusaders, speedsters, lanterns, amazons. And darkness rising again."
She looked at Ahmed.
"Beta… will you walk with your old mother one more time?"
Ahmed's eyes filled—then cleared.
"Always, Ammi."
The family gathered closer.
Amina pressed the device.
Green light flared.
The rift to the DC Universe opened—blue, red, gold, green—swirling with infinite possibility.
She stepped forward—rolling pin tapping, ajrak shawl fluttering.
The bridge welcomed her again.
This time, she led.
And the family followed.
The chapter closed on the orchard—quiet, waiting, blooming.
The bridge grew.
The story continued.