Mr. Billy placed the girl in the back of the wagon and set off. The caravan had already moved a fair distance, forcing him to hurry if he wanted to catch up before the sun swallowed the horizon.
Just before sunset, the caravan's tents appeared on the horizon, and Billy managed to reach them. One of the merchants noticed his weary face and smiled, saying:
"You're late, man! Were you skinning a bear? We thought you were another forest victim!"
Billy was surprised by his cheerful tone; none of them seemed worried or tense. This could mean only one thing: Shaal hadn't told them anything.
The caravan had stopped in a wide plain suitable for rest. Everyone dismounted, lit a large fire, and gathered around it, sharing laughter and jokes as if nothing disturbed their peace. Only Shaal remained distant, staring at Billy with eyes that mixed fear and anger.
Late at night, the fire died down, and everyone returned to their tents. Before drifting into sleep, Billy glanced at the girl. She had drunk the juice, but it had leaked from her stomach. He paid it little mind, having expected such a flaw. He slept peacefully. The night passed without incident.
At dawn, the caravan resumed its journey. After half a day's travel, their destination appeared ahead: the Sun Village. The kingdom's gateway to the world, the center of goods exchange, and its greatest trade artery. It earned its name because it welcomed the light first, and because the sun of the trade empire rose from it.
Before approaching the gate, Billy hid the girl inside a compartment beneath the wagon and cast a tight concealment spell over her—one that rendered her invisible to any magical tracking. He knew that if discovered, he wouldn't just be accused of smuggling, but would be tried as a heretic dealing with demons—punishable by death.
But Billy was no ordinary man. Before becoming a merchant, he had been something else: a smuggler, a trickster, a skilled illusionist. He had always known how to hide the truth behind a mask of smiles and cunning. He was betting on two things: the gate's congestion during peak season, and the guards' growing reliance on routine over vigilance.
Somehow, his plan worked. His wagon passed without inspection.
Billy murmured to himself with a grin, "Bad luck charm? More like a lucky talisman, man."
They entered the city, and the caravan members dispersed, each to their market and goods. The journey had bonded them; they had shared meals, fought off monsters, endured illness together. Parting was difficult—but familiar.
Billy chose a hotel in the city center with a good stable. He bargained with the owner and—through his usual tactics—managed to cut the price in half, paying a full month in advance. It was enough time to move his goods and plan the next step.
But one problem remained: the girl.
He couldn't simply leave her in the wagon. And carrying her to the room would draw suspicion. After long thought, he wrapped her in a blanket and carried her like a sick child. To the innkeeper, he said she was his daughter, suffering from a deadly allergy to air, light, and noise—unable to interact with strangers at all.
Despite the man's doubts and many questions, the trick worked. The illusion Billy cast was strong enough to smother suspicion.
Days passed, and Billy went to the market daily, buying and selling. The girl remained in the apartment—unmoving, silent, blind. He knew she wouldn't escape. She was nothing more than a broken shell.
He instructed the innkeeper not to approach the room, for his "daughter's health," and the man complied, albeit reluctantly.
After a week, Billy noticed something strange: the girl was healing... regenerating.
Her limbs were growing slowly. Her lungs began functioning again. Her liver, kidneys, even the skin over her bones—everything was returning, piece by piece.
Billy watched with awe he hadn't felt in years. This wasn't natural. She had been dying—and now she was rising from death. He spent that night celebrating alone, drinking to something he didn't understand—but which stirred in him a profound and indescribable elation.
A month passed. One of her eyes had returned, though her vision had not. Part of her brain remained damaged, and a small hole still gaped in her abdomen. Even so, it seemed the human girl would be whole again... in just a few months.
Billy realized it was time to leave. He had sold all his goods and made a generous profit, but he had to keep moving. He'd heard of a village only seven days' travel away, known for its cheap prices—more than enough to convince him to pack up... and begin a new journey.