—Well—said Qāsim, lifting his gaze toward the west—. The sun has set, and soon night will take its place. The journey has reached its end… and the hour of farewell has come.

He fell silent, as if the words carried weight.

—I have learned much with you, Carmen. And I am certain you too have gathered things of value along this path.

Carmen looked at him, moved.

—I don’t want it to end —she said softly, her voice almost trembling—. I have seen things I never imagined.

Qāsim smiled tenderly. His expression was serene, yet profoundly human.

—This journey does not end upon waking, Carmen. It is only the beginning.

Without another word, and with a knowing smile, Qāsim took a step back. The outline of his figure blurred little by little, along with the entire surrounding landscape, as though light and wind were gently carrying everything away to another place.

Carmen awoke.

It took her a few seconds to recognize the spot once again, but the murmur of the Guadajoz softly brought her back to reality.

She rose slowly, still disoriented, with the feeling of having returned from a long journey. Then she noticed something in her pocket. There she found a small olive-wood horse and recognized it instantly: it was one of the toys belonging to Muqaddam’s children.

She held it between her fingers, smiling, and set off once more.