"Bilan, Bilan, wake up... wake up..."
A voice echoed in the depths of her consciousness, distant yet urgent. Bilan could hear it, but she couldn't respond. She felt like she was sinking endlessly into a vast, bottomless lake, dragged deeper and deeper into eternal darkness.
"Bilan, wake up, please... wake up..."
That voice again.
Summoning every ounce of willpower, Bilan fought to gather her scattered consciousness. She wanted to wake up. She wanted to respond to that desperate call.
With sheer determination, she felt herself stop sinking. Slowly, her body floated upward, rising from the abyss, and finally—
"Bilan! You're awake! Thank the heavens!"
The world around her swayed between clarity and haze. Through her blurred vision, she saw a tear-streaked face, filled with both relief and joy, calling her name softly.
"Dickey..."
Her lips barely moved, her voice faint. Only then did she realize she was lying on Dickey's back, being carried as he moved forward.
Instinctively, Bilan wanted to ask him to put her down, but her body felt weaker than ever—she could barely even move a finger. Powerless, she blushed and pretended not to notice the situation, lowering her voice to ask:
"Where... where are we? What happened to me?"
Dickey, unaware of her embarrassment, quickly explained:
"You suddenly collapsed with a high fever while we were in the White Tower. I tried to find medicine, but just as I left, Lord Cascarser led his soldiers to drive out the crazed cultists. The plague and the cult have spread to nearly every village and town surrounding Dolez. Now, Lord Knight is helping the uninfected refugees, and we've joined forces with survivors from three other towns, heading toward Dolez."
"The child... what about that child?"
Bilan's mind snapped to the little boy she had helped earlier. Her voice trembled with urgency.
Dickey hesitated before answering softly.
"He… he's sick too."
Silence fell between them.
Bilan didn't need to hear more. She already knew the fate awaiting that boy. In Faerûn, the kindest fate for an ordinary person infected with a deadly disease was to be abandoned in a remote place—to fend for themselves until death.
Dickey carried her with slow, heavy steps, lagging behind the main group of refugees. The exhaustion weighed on both of them.
Then another realization struck Bilan.
"Dickey... why did I faint so suddenly?"
As a fourth-level apprentice mage, her constitution was far stronger than that of ordinary people. It didn't make sense for her to collapse from mere exhaustion.
Dickey said nothing.
Bilan, lying against his back, could feel his body tremble slightly.
"Dickey…"
After a long pause, he finally answered in a quiet voice.
"Bilan... you're sick too."
Bilan's mind went blank.
As a professional, she should have been immune to all common illnesses. Only one terrifying possibility remained—a magical plague.
A wave of dread crashed over her. Magical diseases were among the most horrifying and deadly afflictions in existence, invisible and relentless, capable of killing even powerful professionals. Even legendary figures whispered their names in fear.
And now… she was infected.
More than that—she was close to Dickey. If the disease spread to him...
"Dickey, put me down! Now!"
Bilan struggled weakly, trying to push away from him.
"Bilan, it's okay!" Dickey said firmly. "I'm immune. One in a hundred people naturally develop antibodies, and I was lucky enough to be one of them. And besides... I'd never abandon you, Bilan."
His voice was steady, unshakable.
Tears welled up in Bilan's eyes. She quickly turned her face away so he wouldn't see.
Another heavy silence passed between them.
To distract herself, Bilan turned her attention to their surroundings. The massive group of refugees trudged along the Neilan Trail, led by a small unit of city guards. The crowd was filled with the elderly, the sick, and the disabled, each step slower than the last. Confusion and despair hung over their faces like a shroud. The occasional wail of a child echoed through the air, making the bleak atmosphere even heavier.
A new thought surfaced in Bilan's mind.
"Dickey… I'm infected. Why would they let me stay with the refugees?"
She was certain that she and her family held no power in such matters. Under normal circumstances, an infected person should have been left behind.
Dickey answered honestly:
"You're an apprentice under a noble mage. Lord Knight ordered that you be taken along. The plague spreads through physical contact, so as long as we stay away from the others, it should be fine."
His words were natural, as though taking her along was the only right choice. To him, leaving someone behind simply wasn't an option.
But Bilan said nothing.
She had already noticed it—the way the other refugees looked at her. The subtle mixture of fear and disgust in their eyes.
"To them… I must look like a walking alchemical bomb."
She thought bitterly.
"And now, Dickey is suffering because of me."
She watched as he struggled forward, sweat dripping down his face, yet still carefully carrying her on his back.
For the first time, she saw him as strong.
For the first time, she realized how small and weak she truly was.
The sun was setting, dipping behind the horizon in shades of gold and red. Suddenly, a commotion broke out among the refugees.
Soldiers waded into the crowd, pulling out dozens of elderly men and women with frail bodies and trembling legs.
"No! You can't do this!"
"Grandpa, Grandma, where are they taking you?!"
"Stop them! Are you all insane?!"
The soldiers threw the elders onto the grass without mercy, leveling their spears at them to keep them from returning to the group.
The cries of their families were heartrending.
Some of the younger men clenched their fists, rage burning in their eyes, ready to fight.
Dickey frowned and moved forward to intervene.
But before he could, a sharp voice cut through the chaos.
"Enough! Anyone who disobeys will be executed on the spot!"
A man stepped forward—short, but radiating authority.
A professional.
Fear rippled through the refugees. They hesitated, their anger dulled by dread.
The officer's next words carried the weight of brutal truth:
"Listen well! We only have enough food for three days. If we don't reach Dolez in time, we'll all starve. We must move quickly. Unless you all want to die here, sacrifices must be made."
Silence.
Even Dickey, who had been about to step forward, froze.
Because… the officer was right.
At the speed of ordinary people, it would take at least a week to reach Dolez on foot. But they had only three days' worth of food.
If they slowed down for the weak, everyone would die.
"Dickey… there's no other way," Bilan whispered, her voice heavy with sorrow.
Dickey clenched his fists. He said nothing.
Then, finally, he exhaled a long, weary breath.
"You're right, Bilan. We have no choice."
Lowering his head, he silently continued walking forward.