the death of a mage

Near Holmford a mage died — a thing none living can remember. For the Eternal do not die; so it is said, so it is believed, and that is just why the news runs from cottage to cottage in a whisper, half wonder, half fear. The Guild sends its people — quiet, paying in silver, not drinking — who lodge at the inn by the ford, keep watch on the crossing, question and look, and then vanish as unremarked as they came, leaving no answer. The village is left with only the strangeness of it: folk grow more afraid still of the wood, the ford, and strangers, and no one can say what actually happened, or why.