Time: Year 13 After Tajdeed
Location: Islamabad, Multan, Swat
The Aftermath of Silence
When Rayan's hologram faded, Zara and Mahrosh didn't speak for several minutes.
It wasn't grief. It wasn't even relief. It was the sudden weight of freedom.
Zara finally said:
> "Then we disband. Tajdeed must dissolve—today."
Mahrosh nodded.
> "If the system is the hero, then we should no longer cast shadows over it."
By dawn, official notices went out: the once-clandestine network of Tajdeed was absorbed fully into civic institutions. Its members were offered new posts in media, education, public service. Those who refused were told simply: "You have earned rest. Take it."
The Seeds were no longer soldiers. They were gardeners.
Transformation in Public Life
Across the nation, reforms moved from quiet corridors into the open.
In Schools: The Seeds' methods became part of the national curriculum. Storytelling was a subject; every student had to pass a "narrative exam" before graduation.
In Law: A new chamber opened in Swat—The Constitutional Art Archive. Before any law could be signed, it had to pass through citizen-poets who interpreted it in verse, satire, or performance. Only when it resonated culturally was it allowed forward.
In Media: Community theaters and local radios replaced echo chambers. People argued fiercely, laughed harder, and somehow… kept moving together.
Everywhere, the people began to say not, "What will Rayan do?" but instead: "What will we choose?"
The Twelve Begin to Rise
Unnoticed by most, the Twelve continued their journeys.
In Multan, a weaver's son launched a cooperative that doubled village incomes.
In Karachi, a woman opened the first newsroom staffed entirely by children, producing daily "Kid Reports" on civic issues.
In Gilgit, a farmer experimented with solar-powered irrigation, saving entire valleys from drought.
They were strangers to one another, yet their actions felt curiously aligned, like stars scattered across the same constellation.
Zara once caught herself watching the news and whispering:
> "Rayan, you planted them like seeds… and now they're breaking ground."
The Global Gathering in Multan
That year, Pakistan hosted a gathering unlike any seen before. Not a trade summit, not a military exercise.
It was called "Sovereignty Through Story."
Leaders, artists, and thinkers from across the world gathered in Multan's renovated citadel, where the air smelled of clay and roses. The purpose: to witness a charter signing that declared culture—not economics or armies—the foundation of governance.
Zara stood at the podium, flanked by Mahrosh and a crowd of ordinary citizens who had been chosen by lottery to attend.
Her words rang clear:
> "A nation is not its rulers. It is its stories.
From this day forward, let governance be interpreted, challenged, and renewed through the voices of its people. That is our sovereignty."
The charter was signed. Cheers erupted.
Whispered Recognition
As the celebration spread, two foreign delegates watched quietly.
One leaned closer and asked:
> "Who taught them this? No state builds systems like this."
The other, smiling faintly, replied:
> "They did. No one else."
-
Closing Scene
That night, as lanterns lit up the skies of Multan, Zara sat apart from the crowd for a moment.
For the first time since Tajdeed began, she didn't feel she was waiting for Rayan to return.
Instead, she felt him everywhere: in the chants of children, in the verses of poets, in the stubborn debates of farmers.
She closed her eyes and whispered,
> "We are ready. Truly ready."
And the city roared with life, not for a man, but for itself.