The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the dusty road, stretching the already weary figure of Eldrin, the traveling wizard. His robes, once a vibrant indigo, were faded and travel-stained, and his pointed hat drooped slightly at the brim. Eldrin wasn’t a powerful archmage, capable of summoning firestorms or teleporting across vast distances. His magic was of a more practical sort: mending broken carts, warding off pests from crops, brewing healing draughts for minor ailments. He was on his way to the small town of Oakhaven, hoping to find some work and replenish his dwindling coin purse.

  He’d been walking for hours, the only sound accompanying him the rhythmic crunch of his boots on the gravel and the occasional chirp of a bird. He was so focused on the road ahead, so lost in his thoughts, that he almost didn't notice the two figures lurking in the shadows of the trees that lined the road.

  They were rough-looking men, clad in worn leather jerkins and carrying rusty swords. Bandits, clearly. Eldrin’s heart sank. He wasn’t a fighter. His magic was for healing and helping, not for combat.

  The bandits stepped out onto the road, blocking his path. One was tall and lanky, with a cruel sneer on his face. The other was short and stocky, with a thick, unkempt beard.

  “Well, well, what have we here?” the tall bandit said, his voice laced with a sneer. “Looks like we’ve caught ourselves a fancy bird.”

  Eldrin stopped, his hand instinctively going to the simple wooden staff he carried. It wasn’t a weapon, not really, but it was something to hold onto.

  “Greetings,” Eldrin said, his voice calm, trying to mask the fear that was rising in his chest. “I am simply a traveler on my way to Oakhaven. I mean you no harm.”

  The short bandit chuckled, a harsh, guttural sound. “Harm? We don’t want to harm you… much,” he said, his eyes glinting with greed. “We just want what you’re carrying.”

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  Eldrin knew there was no point in arguing. He wasn’t strong enough to fight them, and he doubted his magic would be effective against two armed men. He had a small pouch of coins hidden beneath his robes, enough to buy a few meals and a night’s lodging. He hoped that would be enough to satisfy them.

  He reached into his robes and pulled out the pouch, holding it out to the bandits. “Here,” he said. “Take it. It’s all I have.”

  The tall bandit snatched the pouch from his hand, quickly checking its contents. His sneer deepened. “Is this all?” he said, his voice laced with disappointment. “We thought a fancy wizard like you would have more than this.”

  Eldrin shook his head. “I told you,” he said. “It’s all I have.”

  The short bandit stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t lie to us, wizard,” he growled. “We know you’re hiding something.”

  Before Eldrin could respond, the tall bandit drew his sword. The blade glinted in the fading sunlight.

  “Search him,” he said to his companion.

  The short bandit grabbed Eldrin, roughly patting him down. He found nothing else of value.

  “He’s telling the truth,” he said to the tall bandit.

  The tall bandit looked at Eldrin, his eyes filled with a cold, cruel light. He clearly wasn’t happy with the meager haul.

  “Well then,” he said, his voice flat. “Looks like we’ll have to make do with what we’ve got.”

  He raised his sword.

  Eldrin’s eyes widened in terror. He knew what was coming. He tried to speak, to plead for his life, but no words came out.

  The tall bandit swung his sword.

  The blade sliced through the air, a swift, brutal stroke. Eldrin felt a sharp, searing pain in his side, and then everything went black.

  The two bandits quickly rifled through Eldrin's belongings, finding nothing of further value. They left his body lying by the roadside, a silent testament to their greed and brutality, and disappeared back into the trees, the setting sun casting long shadows over the scene.