The Unity Spire had never buzzed with such vibrant energy as it did on the day of the first Cross-World Harvest Festival in May 2036. The event had grown from a simple idea during the previous Eid: blend Kot Addu's Chaand Raat bazaar vibes with Elandria's Leyline Bloom Celebration. The orchard courtyard—now expanded across both sides of the Eternal Bridge—transformed into a whirlwind of colors, sounds, and scents. Stalls lined the paths: Punjabi jalebi carts sizzling beside elven crystal-sugar spinners that created edible light sculptures, Saraiki embroidery booths where beastkin pups tried (and failed hilariously) to thread needles, dwarven forges hammering out hybrid jewelry blending ajrak patterns with dragonkin scales.
Lanterns floated overhead—traditional Kot Addu diyas flickering alongside glowing elven orbs that changed colors with the music. Dhol players from southern Punjab thumped rhythms fused with beastkin howls and elven flutes, creating a beat that made even the sternest orc tap a foot. The air was thick with the mingled aromas of sheer khurma simmering in massive degs, starberry-glazed roasts on spits, and fresh mangoes piled high in baskets—some plain golden from Kot Addu soil, others shimmering with faint magical veins from Elandrian growth.
Ahmed Khan—Abba to his ever-growing brood—stood at the festival's heart, his white kurta embroidered with a fusion of phulkari and elven runes. Ten years of bridge life had deepened the lines around his eyes, but they sparkled with joy today. His bonds—now four, after a quiet ceremony two years ago with Lirael, the elf archer who had been part of his original party—surrounded him. Vixen (russet-furred and sly as ever), Kira (silver-haired wolf-kin warrior-mother), Sylara (frost-scaled dragonkin sage), and Lirael (silver-haired elf with a bow slung casually over her shoulder) formed a circle of love that had birthed not just the original three children, but three more in the years since.
The family had expanded naturally, joyfully. After Lirael's bond, twins arrived five years ago: Elara Thorne-Leaf (daughter with Lirael, with pointed ears and faint leaf-like patterns on her skin, affinity for nature illusions) and Rami Thorne-Claw (son with Kira, a second wolf-hybrid with sharper scales and a fiercer howl than Ammar). Last year, little Sana Thorne-Fire (daughter with Sylara, with warm frost-scales that could shift to gentle flame) had joined, her cries echoing like tiny dragon roars.
The children were the stars of the festival. Ammar, now eleven and towering like a young wolf-king, organized a "mango toss" game where kids from both worlds hurled illusion-fruit at targets. His scales gleamed as he demonstrated: "Watch this—howl boost!" A soft growl sent the mango flying true, hitting the bullseye with a satisfying splat.
From Ammar's perspective: This festival was the best yet. He loved the chaos—the way human kids from Kot Addu stared wide-eyed at his scales, then challenged him to races. "I'm faster 'cause of wolf power!" he'd boast, but always let the littler ones win. The rifts? He hadn't noticed them yet—just a weird shimmer in the air near the kebab stall, like heat haze on a Punjab road. "Probably just dragon breath," he thought, shrugging it off.
Zara, nine and a whirlwind of tricks, ran an illusion booth: "Step right up! See your dreams in mango form!" She'd wave her tail, conjuring personalized visions— a Kot Addu kid saw a flying bicycle; an elf child got a mango-tree castle. Her russet fur fluffed with pride.
Zara's view: Festivals were her playground. "Look at all these suckers—easy marks for pranks!" But deep down, she loved making people happy. That odd flicker near the portal? "Huh, like my illusions glitching. Maybe too much mango sugar." She giggled, dismissing it.
Liyana, eight and the quiet observer, helped at the sheer khurma stall. Her frost breath kept the milk cool, turning it into a creamy delight that drew lines. "Want extra chill?" she'd ask shyly, golden eyes sparkling.
Liyana's perspective: She felt the magic most—the leylines humming like a lullaby. But today, the hum stuttered, like a skipped heartbeat. "Abba, the ground feels funny," she whispered to herself, but the festival joy drowned it out.
The younger ones added pure chaos. Elara (five, elf-hybrid with leaf-patterned skin) toddled around growing tiny vines that tripped unsuspecting dwarves—hilarious until one face-planted into a mango pile. Rami (five, twin to Elara, with sharper wolf-claws) chased his own tail in circles, accidentally scratching a tablecloth to shreds. Sana (one, fire-frost baby) sat in Sylara's arms, burbling flames that turned into harmless snowflakes.
Vixen scooped up Sana with a laugh. "Our little volcano-snowflake. Keeping us on our toes."
Kira ruffled Rami's hair. "Just like his brother at that age—claws first, questions later."
Lirael knelt beside Elara. "Vines are for climbing, little leaf—not tripping."
Ahmed's mother presided over the food stalls like a queen. "Eh sheer khurma—dono duniyawan da flavor ae!" (This sheer khurma—flavor of both worlds!)
His father sat with the elders—Thalira, Grom—sharing stories. "Our Dulla Bhatti was a hero—robbed rich, helped poor. Like your orc reformers."
Grom grunted approval. "Good legend. Bears approve."
The festival peaked with a massive dholki circle. Iftikhar Thakur grabbed the mic: "Eid Mubarak te Harvest Mubarak! Ajj do festivals ek vich—double maza!" (Double fun!)
Nasir Chinyoti: "Oye, eh mango starberry wala ae? Eh toh space da mango ae—NASA vi jealous!" (This mango is starberry? This is space mango—NASA jealous!)
Zafri Khan juggled flaming (illusion) mangoes: "Catch! Eh gir gaya toh… Eid over!" He "dropped" one—illusion explosion of sparkles.
Amanullah's hologram deadpanned: "Eh sab maza—par main toh sochya si sirf chai milegi. Yeh toh full multiverse party ae!" (All this fun—I thought just tea. This is full multiverse party!)
Laughter rolled.
Then the first rift appeared.
It started small—a shimmer near the sheer khurma deg, like heat haze over Punjab roads. Zara noticed first—mid-illusion demo.
"Huh? My magic glitching?"
She poked it. The air rippled.
Suddenly—whoosh—a Kot Addu buffalo (from Ahmed's uncle's farm) lumbered through, glamoured horns glowing faintly. It mooed confusedly, then charged straight into a dragonkin nest stall.
Dragonkin eggs (decorative, luckily) scattered; hatchlings squeaked in alarm.
Chaos erupted.
From Zara's perspective: "Oh no! My fault? But it was just a poke!" She froze, illusions flickering wildly—accidental mango rain pouring on the buffalo.
Ammar reacted first: "Buffalo alert! Herd it back!"
His view: "Protect the pups!" He howled a gust, pushing the buffalo gently toward the portal—but too strong; it slipped on illusion mango mush.
Liyana gasped: "The eggs!" She breathed frost mist, cushioning the scatter—eggs landing soft as snow.
Her perspective: "Everything's breaking! Like Sassui's heart—but with buffalo?"
Ahmed sprinted over, grabbing the buffalo's rope (portal-summoned with it). "Easy, easy—back home!"
Vixen laughed mid-crisis: "Buffalo in a dragon nest? New festival game!"
Kira scooped up hatchlings. "All safe."
Sylara calmed the beast with frost breath—cooling its panic.
Lirael shot a vine-arrow, lassoing gently.
The buffalo was herded back through—mooing indignantly.
Breathless laughter followed.
Ahmed's mother: "Eh gai kithon aayi? Portal di mehmaan?" (Where did this cow come from? Portal guest?)
But Ahmed frowned. "That wasn't normal. A rift—small, but unstable."
From the children's eyes: Ammar felt a thrill of danger—"Cool, but scary." Zara guilt—"My poke broke the world?" Liyana worry—"The hum's wrong."
The festival continued—upbeat, joyous—but with a shadow.
That night, family council gathered under the oldest tree.
Ahmed's father: "Cracks in the bridge? Fix them—like we fix the canal leaks."
Thalira: "The Veil stirs. Ancient prophecies warn of this."
Ahmed looked at his children—wide-eyed, brave.
"We'll face it together. Bridge-walkers, remember?"
Ammar: "I'm ready."
Zara: "With tricks!"
Liyana: "With love."
The chapter closed on resolve—festival lights twinkling, worlds holding, family unbreakable.