One summer evening, after a day of running until their legs ached, they collapsed side by side on the moss. The air smelled of wild mint and warm earth, and the pool mirrored the setting sun.
"Thalanir," Liora whispered, her voice soft in the stillness, "promise we'll never stop coming here."
He turned his head, studying her face in the fading light. "We already promised."
"No," she shook her head, a strand of hair falling across her cheek. "Not just for now. For always."
He hesitated, sensing again the strange weight in her words, though neither of them yet knew the shape of what they were weaving between themselves. Finally, he nodded. "For always."
And she smiled, the kind of smile that carved itself into memory.
