The afternoon sun stood high over the academy garden, casting light on the neat rows of orange flowers that lined the long reflecting pool. Streams of water rose at intervals, sending gentle splashes into the shallow basin as ripples spread outward. The air was cool, laced with faint hints of damp earth and stone.
Near the fountain sat three young men.
Elías tilted his head. "Ven, what do you think true love is?"
Vencian truly had no answer. As Luke, the question had never found shape in his life. There had been moments of attraction, quick and fleeting, yet when they passed he had seen them for what they were. Passing interest, never anything deeper, never something that could stand on the word love.
He squinted at the fountain, buying time. "…I don't know." He tossed another pebble, watching circles bleed outward.
Elías smirked and shifted. "Then what about you, Rapheldor? Your wisdom, if you please."
