Chapter Four: The Shift of Power
Four years had passed since Majid's return to his childhood. He was now sixteen,
navigating the complex social landscape of high school while continuing to lay the
groundwork for his future plans. The gangly awkwardness of early adolescence was
giving way to a more confident bearing, his features beginning to resemble the man he
had once been.
These years had been productive. His father, following Majid's subtle guidance, had
invested in the technology startup, which was now showing promising returns. Abdul
Rahman's colleagues had been impressed by his foresight, enhancing his reputation at
the company and leading to a promotion. The family's financial situation was more
secure than it had been in Majid's original timeline, creating a stable foundation for his
future endeavors.
Majid's relationship with Zuhair had continued to evolve according to plan. They
remained friends, but not the inseparable duo they had been in his previous life. Majid
had cultivated other friendships, positioning himself as a well-liked student with diverse
social connections rather than Zuhair's shadow. This subtle shift in their dynamic had
altered Zuhair as well—he had become more competitive, more aware of Majid as a
potential rival rather than a guaranteed ally.
It was a warm afternoon in September, and Majid sat in the school library, ostensibly
studying for an economics exam but actually reviewing his long-term plans. His journal,
now filled with years of observations and strategies, was disguised as a mathematics
notebook, the sensitive information hidden within complex equations and diagrams.
"Mind if I join you?"
Majid looked up to see a girl he recognized from his economics class—Rana Al-Saeed.
She was new to the school, having transferred from Riyadh at the beginning of the term.
Something about her had caught Majid's attention from the first day—an intensity in her
dark eyes, a quiet confidence in her bearing that seemed beyond her years.
"Please," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.
Rana sat down, placing her books on the table. "You're Majid Al-Harthi, right? Mr. Khalil
says you're the best student in economics."
Majid smiled modestly. "I find it interesting. The way markets work, how decisions made
decades ago still influence current conditions."
"Like ripples in a pond," Rana said, nodding. "One small action can have far-reaching
consequences."
There was something in her tone, a weight to her words that suggested she wasn't just
making casual conversation. Majid studied her more carefully. In his previous life, he had
never met anyone named Rana Al-Saeed. She was a new variable in his carefully
calculated equation.
"Exactly," he agreed. "Most people don't think about the long-term impact of their
choices."
"But you do," she said. It wasn't a question.
"I try to," Majid replied cautiously. "It's good to have a plan for the future."
Rana's gaze was disconcertingly direct. "And what if the future isn't what you expect?
What if something... unusual happens?"
The question sent a chill down Majid's spine. Was it possible that this girl somehow
knew about his time travel? No, that was impossible. He was being paranoid.
"Then you adapt," he said, keeping his voice casual. "No plan survives contact with
reality unchanged."
She smiled, seemingly satisfied with his answer. "That's a mature perspective. Most
people our age live entirely in the present."
"And you?" Majid asked, turning the focus back to her. "Do you live in the present, or are
you a planner too?"
"Let's just say I have a broader perspective than most," Rana replied enigmatically. She
opened her economics textbook. "Now, would you mind explaining the concept of
market equilibrium? I'm finding Professor Khalil's explanations somewhat lacking."
They spent the next hour studying together, the conversation shifting to safer academic
topics. But Majid remained unsettled by their initial exchange. There was something
about Rana that didn't fit the normal patterns of teenage behavior—a watchfulness, an
awareness that reminded him of his own adult consciousness trapped in a younger
body.
As they packed up their books at the end of the study session, Rana paused. "Would you
like to continue this tomorrow? Same time?"
Majid hesitated. Rana was an unknown factor, potentially disruptive to his carefully laid
plans. But she was also intriguing, and if there was something unusual about her, he
needed to understand what it was.
"Sure," he agreed. "I'll be here."
Rana smiled. "Good. Oh, and Majid? Be careful with that notebook of yours. Some
equations are too powerful to share with just anyone."
Before he could respond, she had turned and walked away, leaving him staring after her
in shock. There was no way she could know what was hidden in his notebook. No way
unless...
The thought was too disturbing to complete. Majid quickly gathered his materials and
left the library, his mind racing. He needed to be more careful around Rana Al-Saeed.
Much more careful.
That evening, as Majid sat at dinner with his parents, his father shared some unexpected
news.
"I've been offered a position at the company's headquarters in Riyadh," Abdul Rahman
announced. "It's a significant promotion—department head, with a substantial salary
increase."
"That's wonderful, habibi!" Majid's mother exclaimed. "When would we move?"
"That's the thing," his father replied, glancing at Majid. "I'm hesitant to uproot the family,
especially with Majid in his important school years. I'm considering commuting weekly,
staying in Riyadh during the week and coming home on weekends."
In Majid's original timeline, his father had indeed been offered a similar position but had
declined it to avoid disrupting the family. That decision had limited his career
advancement and, ultimately, the family's financial security.
"You should take it, Baba," Majid said firmly. "It's an important opportunity."
His father looked surprised. "You wouldn't mind the disruption? Me being away during
the week?"
"We would miss you terribly," Majid's mother interjected, "but Majid is right. This is too
important to refuse."
"I'll be fine," Majid assured him. "And we can visit you in Riyadh sometimes. Maybe I
could even look at universities there while we visit."
Abdul Rahman nodded slowly. "I'll accept the position then. The change will be good for
all of us, I think."
Majid smiled, satisfaction warming his chest. Another small but significant alteration to
the timeline. His father's career would flourish, providing not only financial benefits but
also valuable business connections that Majid could leverage in the future.
Later that night, alone in his room, Majid experienced another of the strange episodes
that had continued throughout the years—the tingling in his fingertips, the momentary
blurring of reality. But this time, something new happened. As the world shimmered
around him, he caught a glimpse of... something else. Another place, another time,
superimposed briefly over his bedroom.
He saw a dimly lit room, walls lined with books and strange artifacts. An older man with
a gray beard was writing in a journal similar to Majid's own. And on the wall behind him
hung a peculiar symbol—a circle containing a spiral pattern that seemed to shift and
move as Majid watched.
Then the vision was gone, reality solidifying once more. Majid sat on his bed, heart
racing. What had he just seen? Was it a hallucination, a product of stress and his
constant concern about the stability of his presence in the past? Or was it something
more—a glimpse of another time, another place somehow connected to his own
temporal displacement?
He reached for his journal, recording the experience in detail while it was still fresh in his
mind. The bearded man, the room full of books and artifacts, the strange shifting
symbol. None of it made sense, but Majid had learned to document everything, no
matter how inexplicable. Understanding might come later.
The next day, Majid returned to the library at the appointed time, both eager and
apprehensive about meeting Rana again. She was already there, sitting at the same
table, reading a book that didn't appear to be a school text. As he approached, he caught
a glimpse of the cover—"Temporal Mechanics and Consciousness: Theoretical
Approaches."
His step faltered. The book's subject matter was too coincidental, too aligned with his
own secret research into time travel. Rana looked up, meeting his gaze with a knowing
smile.
"Interesting reading?" Majid asked as he sat down, trying to keep his voice casual.
"Fascinating," Rana replied. "It explores the idea that consciousness isn't bound by
linear time the way physical matter is. That under certain circumstances, a mind might...
travel."
Majid felt a chill run down his spine. "Sounds like science fiction."
"Does it?" Rana closed the book, her dark eyes studying him intently. "I think you know
better than that, Majid Al-Harthi."
The directness of her statement left no room for pretense. She knew, or at least strongly
suspected, his secret. The question was how, and what she intended to do with that
knowledge.
"What exactly do you think you know about me?" he asked, his voice low.
"I know that you're not like other sixteen-year-olds," she said. "I know that you see the
world differently, plan more carefully, understand more deeply. And I know that
sometimes, reality seems to... shift... around you."
Majid's mouth went dry. The episodes of blurring reality—she had noticed them.
Perhaps even experienced them herself?
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"Someone like you," Rana replied. "Someone who doesn't quite belong in this time.
Though my situation is... different from yours."
"You're from the future?" Majid could hardly believe he was asking the question aloud,
acknowledging his secret to another person for the first time.
"Not exactly," Rana said. "I'm what's called a Balance Keeper. We monitor temporal
anomalies, ensure that shifts in the timeline don't cause catastrophic disruptions."
"You're saying time travel is real, and there are people who... police it?"
"Not police, exactly. We observe, document, occasionally intervene if necessary. Your
case is... unusual. Most temporal displacements are brief, limited. But you've maintained
a stable presence in a past timeline for years, making deliberate changes to events. It's
unprecedented."
Majid's mind raced. If what Rana was saying was true, it meant his experience wasn't
unique, wasn't inexplicable. There was a framework, a system that might help him
understand what had happened to him.
"The episodes I experience," he said cautiously, "the moments when reality seems less
solid—what are they?"
"Temporal resonance," Rana explained. "Your consciousness isn't fully anchored in this
timeline. Occasionally, it resonates with your original timeline or with other potential
realities. The longer you stay here, the more frequent and intense these episodes will
become."
"Are you saying I'll be pulled back? That I can't stay here?" The thought filled Majid with
panic. He wasn't finished, hadn't completed his plans for revenge.
"I don't know," Rana admitted. "As I said, your case is unprecedented. But I believe there
might be ways to stabilize your presence here, to anchor your consciousness more firmly
in this timeline."
"How?"
"There are techniques, rituals that Balance Keepers use to move between temporal
planes. They might be adapted to your situation." She hesitated. "But I need to know
your intentions first. Why did you come back? What are you trying to change?"
Majid considered his response carefully. He couldn't reveal his true motivation—revenge
seemed petty, unworthy of the cosmic implications Rana was describing. But he needed
her help, needed the knowledge she possessed.
"I made mistakes in my original life," he said, choosing his words with care. "Trusted the
wrong people, made poor decisions that hurt myself and others. I want to do better this
time, create a better future."
It wasn't entirely a lie. His revenge would indeed create a better future—for himself, if
not for those who had betrayed him.
Rana studied him, her expression suggesting she wasn't entirely convinced by his
explanation. "The ripples of your changes are spreading, Majid. Already, this timeline
differs significantly from your original one. People who died before are alive now. People
who never met have formed connections. The further these changes spread, the more
unpredictable the outcomes become."
"Isn't that true of any life?" Majid countered. "Every decision creates ripples, alters
potential futures."
"Yes, but natural changes occur within the flow of time. Your changes come from outside
that flow, carrying knowledge that doesn't belong in this timeline. The potential for
disruption is much greater."
"So what are you suggesting? That I should just accept being pulled back to my original
timeline? Go back to the moment of my failure and despair?"
Rana shook her head. "No. What's done is done. You're here now, and removing you
would cause its own disruptions. I'm suggesting that we work together—you tell me your
plans, and I help you stabilize your presence here while minimizing temporal
distortions."
It was an offer Majid couldn't refuse, despite his reservations about revealing too much
to this strange girl who claimed to be a "Balance Keeper." If the temporal resonance
episodes were indeed growing more frequent and intense, he needed her help to remain
in this timeline long enough to complete his plans.
"Alright," he agreed. "We'll work together. But I need proof that what you're saying is
true, that these techniques you mentioned can actually help me."
"Fair enough," Rana said. She reached into her bag and removed a small object wrapped
in cloth. Unwrapping it, she revealed a pendant—a silver circle containing the same
spiral pattern Majid had seen in his vision the night before.
"This is a Temporal Focus," she explained. "It helps Balance Keepers maintain their
awareness across timeline shifts. Wear it during your next resonance episode, and you'll
find the experience more controlled, less disorienting."
Majid stared at the pendant, a chill running through him. The exact symbol from his
vision, now physically present before him. It couldn't be coincidence.
"Where did you get this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"It was given to me by my mentor, a senior Balance Keeper named Layla Idrissi. She's
been tracking temporal anomalies for decades." Rana held out the pendant. "Take it.
Consider it a gesture of good faith."
Majid accepted the pendant, feeling its weight in his palm. It was cool to the touch, yet
seemed to pulse with a subtle energy.
"Thank you," he said, slipping it into his pocket. "When can I meet this mentor of yours?
Layla Idrissi?"
"Soon," Rana promised. "But first, we need to establish trust between us. Wear the
pendant. Experience its effects. Then we'll talk more about your plans and how I can
help you stabilize your presence here."
As they parted ways that afternoon, Majid felt a mixture of hope and apprehension. Rana
and her talk of Balance Keepers offered potential answers to the questions that had
plagued him for years. But she also represented a new complication, a variable he
hadn't accounted for in his carefully constructed plans.
That night, as he lay in bed examining the pendant, Majid wondered if he had made the
right decision in confiding in Rana. His revenge had been a solitary pursuit for so long,
his plans known only to himself. Sharing them, even partially, felt like a vulnerability he
couldn't afford.
Yet the pendant in his hand offered tangible evidence that Rana knew things he didn't,
understood aspects of his situation that had remained mysterious to him despite years
of research. If temporal resonance was indeed threatening his presence in this timeline,
he needed her knowledge.
Majid slipped the pendant around his neck, feeling its weight against his chest. As he
drifted toward sleep, he wondered what new revelations tomorrow would bring, and
how they would affect the intricate web of plans he had been weaving for the past four
years.
The game had changed. New players had entered the field. But Majid's determination
remained unshaken. Whatever he learned from Rana and her mentor, whatever new
understanding of time and consciousness they offered, he would adapt it to serve his
ultimate goal.
Those who had betrayed him would still pay the price. The only difference was that now,
perhaps, he had found a way to ensure he would remain in this timeline long enough to
see his revenge completed