Elara flinched at the mention of her father, fresh tears welling in her eyes. She hugged herself tightly, her gaze dropping to the worn wooden floor of the inn room. The early morning light, seeping through the gaps in the shutters, did little to dispel the gloom that seemed to cling to her.
"My papa…" she began, her voice small and choked with unshed grief. "He… he wouldn't do anything bad. He was a good man."
Lila moved to sit beside her on the edge of the bed, placing a comforting arm around the girl's trembling shoulders. "We believe you, Elara. But the villagers… they seemed to think he was involved with this sickness. Anything you can tell us might help us understand, and maybe even find him."
Elara took a shaky breath, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "We… we're traveling merchants. Or, we were. Papa mostly traded in rare herbs, carved wooden charms, and sometimes interesting stones he'd find. We just left Luxia, hoping to find some things to sell."
