The river had never looked so still.
it ran through the heart of the jungle like a silver vein, winding past shrines, banyan rootrs, and forgotten graves. But tonight, it did not flow. it waited.
Aryasa stood at ist edge, teh kris at his side, the mask tucked beneath hos robe.
Mangku Gede had sent him here with no expalantion only a warning.
"Do not look into teh water unlessit looks back."
he didn't understand it then. He wasn't sure he understood it now.
The moon hung low, casting pale light across the surface. Firefliesdanced above the reeds. Frogs sang in the distance. But the river remained silent.
Aryasa knelt.
He placed the mask on the ground beside him and stared into the water.
At first, he saw only his reflection young, uncertain, marked by ash and memory.
Then the ripples changed.
His reflection blinked.
But he hadn't
A second face appeared beside his own. Not human. Not beast.
Eyex like lanterns. A mask of bone and gold. The faca of barong.
Aryasa gasped, but did not move.
The river shimmered. The river remembers."
Aryasa leaned closer."What am I supposed to see?"
"Not what. Who."
Suddenly, The water darkened. The moonlight vanished. And the river became a mirror of memory.
Aryasa saw visions his father. standing beside the same river, speaking to a figure cloaked in mist. He saw Mangku Gede, younger, holding, a scroll marked with the symbol of teh mask. He saw Rangda, her eyes burning, her hand reaching into the water, pu;;ing something out.
A child.
A boy.
Aryasa.
He stumbled back, breath caught in his throat.
The river returned to silver.
The reflections were gone.
But the truth remained.
He had been touched by the veil long before he undestoood it.
A rustle the reeds.
Aryasa turned.
A figure emerged tall, cloaked, wearing a mask carved from drifwood. its eyes glowed faintly. its voice was soft, like wind through bamboo.
"You are not the first to forget."
Aryasa stood. "Who are you?"
"I am the Watcher of the River. I see what others bury."
The figure steooed closer. its mask was cracked. Its robes were soaked. But its presence was calm.
"You were chosen before you were born. The veil marked you. Rangda tried to unmark you. But the river held your name."
Aryasa's heart pounded. "Why me?"
"Because you remember pain. And pain is the key."
The Watcher reached into the water and pulled out a small object—a stone, smooth and black, etched with the symbol of the mask.
"Take it. It will show you what others hide."
Aryasa took the stone. It pulsed in his hand.
The Watcher vanished.
Back at the shrine, Mangku Gede waited.
Aryasa placed the stone beside the mask.
"They knew me," he said. "Even before I knew myself."
Mangku nodded. "The veil does not choose lightly."
Aryasa looked at the river, now flowing again.
He was no longer just a guardian.
He was a memory reclaimed.
A truth reborn.
And the river would never forget him again.