There is an old pact, forgotten by the cities, but still written in the waters.
At every eclipse, a Keeper must appear — alone — at the surface of the sacred mirror.
It is not a choice. It is a role passed through blood, through memory.
The boy has become a man. The silence of legacy has followed him here.
Tonight, he steps into the lake just as his father once did, and his grandfather before him.
The eclipse opens the way. The water carries intent. The sky watches.
What the Keeper offers is not a sacrifice.
It is balance.