The sky was covered with stars, but darkness dominated the small town that Nil had as his next objective. It was one of those places where the days lengthened with the warmth of the sun and the nights passed between murmurs and songs in the canteen. The oil lanterns barely illuminated the dusty streets, casting long and deceptive shadows that Nil knew how to use to his advantage.

With his hat and a bandana covering his face, he slipped through the alleys to the police station, a modest building, but better built than the rest. With the dexterity of one who has done this many times, he slipped through an open window and advanced through the corridors with the confidence of a ghost in his own home.

There, on an old wooden desk, rested a small bronze statuette, whose hidden base guarded the real reason for his visit: a key.

—I'm almost curious to know what it opens," he murmured, slipping the loot into his backpack. Well, duty done, pleasure follows.

His next stop was the bank, a small building, nothing ostentatious, but sufficient to store the savings of the few inhabitants of the town. He had studied this place for days, noting the hours when the managers patrolled and the times when the street was completely empty.

Inside the bank, everything unfolded as usual. The locks were no challenge, and within minutes, Nil was filling his sack with money. But that night, something was wrong. A subtle noise, like a rustling on the floor, put him on alert. Someone was there.

—Who is it? —asked a male voice, firm but hesitant. It was one of the night watchmen.

Nil, without answering, drew his gun and pointed it at the door. Killing was not usually a problem, even so, he preferred to wound as a warning. A shot in the air was enough to make the man retreat, letting out a cry of alarm that echoed throughout the village, the cries of alert began to multiply, and Nil knew that time had run out.

With his sacks half full, he ran towards the back door, where Sombra, his horse, was waiting for him. But as he rode, a shot hit him in the right side of his abdomen, making him grunt in pain, holding his side with one hand, he forced himself to stay upright and fled before anyone could reach him.

Hours later, in a rickety cantina, in the middle of the desolate road, three men, two playing cards and another chubby one playing with a lighter, entered through the door, Nil, still covered by a jet hat, his dark bandana and shawl.

—You made it. — Said the fat man playing with his lighter, —You got it?

Nil walked without responding, with each step his spurs could be heard vibrating, the other two men who so far seemed to be paying more attention to the game approached their boss, lest the masked man try something suspicious.

When Nil threw his backpack on the table, a noise similar to metal was heard, that fat man smiled excitedly and from his bag he took out that statue that Nil had taken from the delegation, he instantly broke the base where the key that seemed to solve all his problems and even a little more was located.

The man licked his lips as he laughed a clearly satisfied laugh, "Ju,ju,ju, the rumors were true," he put the key away and stood up. — You are relentless in your work, you should consider working for me. — He settled his coat with a tantalizing smile.

— I will pay you well. — But Nil shook his head as he remained silent.

The man showed disappointment on his face. —Yes, yes, the black specter works alone. — I grumbled as I walked to the exit. — Gentlemen, give him what we agreed.

Nil glared at his client's bodyguards, the last thing he wanted was to be hindered in his payment. But they weren't, a man dropped a heavy, coin—filled sack with bills and they walked out the door.

Nil sighed, took a seat for a moment as he brought his hand to the recent wound, — I'm taking the.... — he mumbled between his teeth, it was still bleeding.

A few days later, the first ray of sunlight was breaking over the horizon as Nil adjusted the tarpaulin of his wagon. His black hair was still damp from the morning dew, but that didn't matter to him. He had exchanged his bloodied clothes for a clean shirt and a worn leather vest, hiding his wound as best he could, the wandering apothecary had to look impeccable, even if inside he was on the verge of collapse.

— Are you really leaving, doctor? — The old woman approached with concern.

Nil nodded. — That's right, Doña Cleo, I must go check on my other patients in Totolapan.

 — But doctor! Didn't you hear the news? —They say that the Black Specter attacked again a few days ago! 

The few people around him were horrified. — Bless God, that bastard hasn't taken any interest in our village. — One of the farmers spoke up. — They say that he's as mean as the devil, abused like a cat and crafty like a fox, his hand doesn't tremble when it's time to kill.

Again, the faces were horrified and let out a shriek of concern and fear. — But why do they call him a black specter? — asked Nil, for he had never called himself that, let alone remembered anything that would make him worthy of the nickname.

— They say it uses the shadows as a path! — Another grandfather spoke, — He appears, attacks and vanishes like a soul in pain.

— Well, in that case I'll be fine as long as I travel by daylight, won't I? — He mounted his wagon, making an effort not to show signs of weakness. If he wanted to avoid suspicion, he had to follow his routine: moving from town to town offering home remedies, ointments and the occasional consultation.

Nil put on his hat. — Totolapan is three or four days from here, and I know several inns where to spend the night, don't worry.

Sombra began his journey once his owner whipped the reins. — Take care doctor.

— May God be with you.

— I will pray that he will be back soon.

Nil waved goodbye with his hand in the air and finally left for the next town.

 The road was desolate, flanked by dry trees that cast irregular shadows on the ground. Nil was inside his wagon, raising a false wooden floor, where he hid his illicit earnings and his dark work clothes. 

He checked the shirt and the rebozo carefully, he had to mend the shirt and wash the rest. Sighing unwillingly, he put back the false floor and hid it strategically with some boxes full of herbs, medicines and utensils. Anyone who saw it would think that in that part of the wagon Nil made his remedies.

He returned to the front of the wagon, modifying his route in the direction of the river. —Come on Sombra, we'll take the opportunity to bathe you too.

Barely a couple of hours had passed when he spotted a group of figures blocking the path ahead. Three boys, barely in their teens, were stationed in the middle of the trail with knives in hand and faces that tried to look intimidating.

Nil stopped the wagon, tilting his head patiently as he watched them.

—Well, boys, what can I do for you? —he asked with a calmness so calculated that it almost seemed sincere.

—Get down, if you don't want me to dismember you! —shouted the leader of the group, a young man with honey brown, messy, curly hair and light gray eyes, with a scar across his left eye, besides, he didn't seem to have held a knife in his life.

Nil arched an eyebrow. His tone was laden with mockery when he replied:

—Are we really going to do this?

—Don't be funny! —spat another of the boys, stepping forward. His hand was visibly trembling as he held the knife. Give me your money or... or you'll regret it!

Nil let out a sigh. He was too tired to entertain himself with amateurs.

—Let's see, boys, I don't want any trouble. Take some money and stop bothering me.

But when he tried to pull a small bag of money from the wagon, the leader misinterpreted it as a hostile move. With a shout that was intended to be threatening, he lunged toward Nil.

Although the killer instinct in Nil reacted quickly, a stabbing pain coming from his abdomen hindered him, they both fell off the front of the wagon and Nil's wound opened up a bit making him feel pain.

Sombra, in a desperate attempt to save his owner, tried to break free from the wagon, but only managed to stagger back to the same spot. — Grab him! — shouted the one who appeared to be the leader as he entered the wagon and searched for anything of value. Among those he took Nil's bloody clothes to keep some ceramic mortars and some herbs that he didn't know what they were for.

Pain shot through Nil like a bolt of lightning, wrenching a choked grunt from him. Teeth clenched, Nil hit both boys with his knees and staggered to his feet, one hand clenching his bloodied side.

—Fuck. —he spat between gasps. They don't know who they messed with.

Even so, he knew he could not win this confrontation. His strength was at its limit, he had no weapon to counterattack, and if he wanted to get out alive, he needed to escape, his chance came when the young man in the cart jumped down from it. — Escape! — shouted the boy with the scar over his eye.

Both boys looked in his direction distracting for a moment from their victim, instantly Nil pounced pushing the nearest young man, and ran as best he could to his horse. He jumped up awkwardly and whipped the reins urgently.

The boys didn't follow him; their improvised bravery didn't go that far and they assumed they'd gotten a big haul. — Yeah, run!

—Spread the word! There's a new sheaf on site!

As Nil staggered away, blood dripped from his side, leaving a dark trail on the ground.

The sun was at its highest point when Maria, a twenty—three—year—old girl, was guiding her wagon along the dusty road. She was returning to town after a long supply trip, with boxes of medicine and cloth stacked neatly in the back. Her wide—brimmed hat protected her from the scorching heat, but not from the fatigue that was beginning to weigh on her shoulders.

The horses trotted at a steady pace, kicking up small clouds of dust with each step, when something unusual caught their attention. On the side of the road, a black thoroughbred horse was pounding the hooves of its legs against the ground in desperation.

Maria stopped the wagon with a gentle tug on the reins, "What's the matter little buddy, are you lost? — He jumped down from the wagon, while wiping the sweat from his forehead and brushing back his black hair.

The horse would walk away and then come back a few steps, giving Maria to understand that he wanted her to follow him. — Maria? What is it? — asked Noé, a man of twenty—five, dark and with curly brown hair, who until now had been taking a nap in the back of the wagon and woke up when he felt that they were not moving forward.

— No idea Noé, it seems that this friend wants us to follow him. — Maria answered while trying to reassure the horse to no avail.

— Okay, get behind me. — He asked as he subtly placed his hand on his belt, close to his gun. Maria nodded and they both followed the horse a few meters to the banks of a stream.

—My God! — shouted Maria when she saw a man on the ground, the instinct to help overcame any caution.

As she approached, her gaze fell on a young man, about twenty—five years old, milky—skinned and black—haired, with a pale face and a hand clutched weakly at his side. His clothes, though clean, were stained with dried blood.

—Holy cow! —he murmured, bending down to check it out.

He gently touched her shoulder, but there was no response. — Is he alive? — Noah asked, crouching down beside him.

Maria's fingers found a faint, but present pulse in her neck, and she breathed a sigh of relief, albeit narrowly.

—Yes, but, this does not look good at all....

With quick, careful hands, he lifted his shirt slightly to inspect the wound. Instantly, he noticed that it was not fresh. The edges were swollen and there were clear signs that something had aggravated it.

—He needs urgent help," he said, turning to Noah, his tone heavy with concern. — Help me get him to the wagon.

Maria returned to her wagon, pulling out a blanket to wrap around the stranger before attempting to move him. He was a thin man, so it was no problem for Noah to carry him in his arms, they carried him to Mary's wagon, while Shadow followed warily.

While Maria accommodated the stranger as best she could, Noah pushed Nil's wagon to the road to tie it to the back of Maria's, — There you go with him, I'll drive. — Noah said as he sat in the front of the wagon.

— And the horse? — Maria asked when she saw that he did not tie the black thoroughbred.

 —He's smart," he said, whipping the reins to get back on the road to town. If he owns it, he'll follow us; if he doesn't, he'll leave. 

Maria watched the horse and indeed it was following them very closely, while doubts began to arise. —Who is this man, and why was he wounded in such an isolated place? — asked Maria.

—I don't know, but there was no sign of a fight nearby. — Noé answered, it was not for less, he was one of the officers of the village headquarters.

However, they were not people who would leave an injured person abandoned to his fate, besides, Maria's father, the town doctor, would know what to do.

Maria watched her new guest's face with uncertainty. —I just hope you don't get me in trouble, my friend," she murmured.

— In trouble, you? — the officer asked offended. — I was supposed to be your escort, how am I going to explain to the sheriff that two of us left and three of us came back! — He said with mockery in his alarmed tone while Maria laughed.

As the wheels of the wagon turned, marking the beginning of what would unknowingly be a chain of events for the small town.