"If one day you were to travel into space—beyond the limits of what should ever be touched—when space itself loses its shape, when the laws of physics unravel into nonsense, when your mind begins to fracture under the weight of what it sees... only then will you realize: you are still at the beginning."
A caravan of horse-drawn wagons moved steadily eastward. They appeared to be merchants, transporting their goods.
The caravan followed a dusty path cutting through a green plain that stretched endlessly in all directions. The sight was breathtaking—the golden sunlight glinting off the grass painted a picture too beautiful for words.
The merchants laughed and chatted amongst themselves, easing the burden of the long journey.
After a while, one of them noticed a swarm of flies circling beneath a tree. Thinking it might be the carcass of a rare animal, he decided to investigate—perhaps there was something valuable to salvage.
But as he drew near, he leapt back in horror at the sight before him.
It was the body of a human child. The right side of their face had been torn away, along with the left eye, half the chest, stomach, and left leg. The body writhed with worms and insects feeding on the wounds.
And yet—that wasn't the most terrifying part.
The child was still alive.
The merchant could see the heart, still beating, dislodging worms with every thump. The lungs expanded and contracted through gaping holes in the flesh, still drawing breath.
Frozen in place for a moment, the man finally summoned his courage, drew a dagger inscribed with sacred runes, and drove it into the child's body repeatedly.
But nothing happened.
"This can't be..." he muttered in disbelief. "This is a consecrated dagger—it should burn demons with a single strike."
He hesitated, then reasoned aloud, "Maybe it isn't a demon..."
Grabbing a long stick, he carefully rolled the body to inspect it.
It was a girl—no older than four.
Meanwhile, another merchant, worried about his companion's delay, came looking for him.
When he found him, he called out, "Billy! What's taking you so long?"
Billy hesitated, unsure whether to say the truth. After a pause, he simply said, "You'd better brace yourself for what you're about to see."
When his friend, Shaal, looked at the child, he stumbled back, collapsing in shock.
"It's her… the demon child. She's real," he gasped, before vomiting.
Billy turned to him. "You know something about her?"
Wiping his mouth with a flask of water, Shaal answered,
"There's an old rumor in this region. I thought it was just that—a rumor.
They say a child was born under a powerful curse… or maybe she's immortal. No one knows who her parents were. She was placed in an orphanage at first.
But two weeks later, the entire orphanage burned to the ground.
Everyone died—except her. She was found in the ashes, still alive, nothing more than a charred husk.
People believed she was a demon.
They tried to kill her—many times—but nothing worked.
Stories spread: she brought misfortune… her parent was a devil… she was a curse upon everything around her.
We should leave her be, Billy. Pray nothing follows us."
Billy stayed silent, then said,
"I think it's all nonsense. Look at her. She's clearly been attacked by some wild animal.
If she were a curse, wouldn't the horses have sensed it and run? They're sensitive to unnatural things."
Shaal snapped, "You fool. Who cares if the stories are true or what some horses feel? That thing is wrong."
"I don't care what you think," Billy replied calmly. "I'm taking her with me."
Shaal's face twisted with anger. "Are you insane? Do you know what a normal person would do? They'd run as far away from her as possible!"
Billy looked him in the eye. "Then I'm not normal. And this has nothing to do with you. I'll deal with the consequences myself."
Shaal stormed off, yelling, "Fine! But stay the hell away from the caravan. No one wants to be cursed because of you."
Billy gently laid out a small cloth to lift the child. But the moment he touched her, she stirred—
She began to weakly punch his hand.
Her strength was barely noticeable, but she was resisting.
At the same time, she tried to scrape away the worms eating her body alive.
Billy's heart sank. He poured a bit of his drinking water over her, washing away what he could.
Then he placed her gently in the back of a wagon, among the fruit—where protective magic preserved the produce and repelled insects.
He hesitated—half her stomach was gone. Could she even eat?
Still, he mashed some fruit and hung it in a pouch around her neck, in case she found the strength to drink.