The mine entrance sat beneath a low rise, its timber supports blackened with age and soot. A small group of Amnian soldiers occupied the ground before it. Shields leaned close at hand. Weapons remained down, though none had been sheathed.
The fight had already passed. Only its evidence remained.
A few soldiers bore its marks: a split lip, a sleeve darkened with drying blood, one man seated with his leg stretched out as a medic worked. Near the rocks by the entrance, two kobolds lay where they had fallen—small bodies twisted around broken spears, blood crusted against the stone. Someone had dragged them clear of the path. Whatever had come out of the mine hadn't made it past the mouth, and hadn't for some time.
The air had settled, and the people with it.
No alarm followed. No pursuit—only the residue of something brief and sharp.
One of the soldiers stepped forward as we approached. He wore chainmail and a crested Amnian helmet, stylized metal wings sweeping back from the temples, the curtain of mail brushing his shoulders when he turned. Red cloth showed beneath the rings at the sleeves and collar. He wasn't older than the others, but their attention bent toward him without being asked.
He raised a hand.
"Hold there."
Jaheira slowed. The rest of us followed.
"Name's Dandal," the man said after a moment. Not loud. Not formal. "We had trouble come up out of the mine. It's settled—for now."
His gaze swept us once, quick and practiced, then returned to the entrance.
Off to one side, a gnome sat hunched on a crate, arms wrapped tight around himself. His eyes snapped toward the darkness at every sound.
"That one came running out," someone muttered.
Dandal turned toward him.
"You hurt?"
The gnome shook his head quickly. "No. I—I ran."
"What's your name?"
"Galtok."
Dandal nodded. "How many did you see?"
Galtok hesitated, then swallowed. "They kept coming out of the dark."
That answer bought a pause.
Dandal shifted, setting himself where he could watch both the mine and the open ground behind us.
"We're holding here."
It wasn't an order so much as a conclusion.
The mine offered nothing back.
Bootsteps approached from the road. A man came into view wiping his hands on a rag streaked with iron dust and grime. His hair was cut short and close to the scalp, red beneath the dirt, dulled by long days underground. He gave Dandal a brief look—acknowledgment, not inquiry—before turning his attention to us.
"So," he said. "You're the ones Mayor Ghastkill sent."
Jaheira stepped forward. "He asked us to look into the trouble here."
He studied us again, slower this time. One. Two. Three. Four. His gaze shifted to the fifth.
"He said a group of four," he said. "Unless I'm mistaken… there's five of you."
"When the mayor first asked us to check the mines, there were four," Jaheira replied evenly. "Circumstances changed."
"And the extra circumstance?"
Rasaad stepped forward, hands open at his sides, posture relaxed without being casual. "I joined them on the road. I am Rasaad, of the Sun Soul. Their purpose aligns with my own."
The man considered him. "The mayor didn't mention monks."
"The mayor mentioned results," Jaheira said.
That earned a sound from him—almost a laugh. He gestured toward the mine.
"You picked a bad day to be helpful," he said. "Most of the miners are too scared to go back down. Kobolds bold enough to rush the mouth in daylight. And now I've got folk wanting inside who don't belong to either group."
He positioned himself between the mine and everyone else without thinking.
"You don't need us to swing picks," Jaheira said. "You need us to see what's changed."
He hesitated. Not long—but enough.
"Fine," he said, stepping aside just enough to clear the threshold. "You go in. You stay together. You don't touch anything you don't understand. And if something doesn't make sense—"
He shook his head.
"—you come back up. I don't want heroes. I want answers."
The light thinned quickly after the first bend.
Not darkness—just less of everything. Sound dulled. Distance shortened. The mine pressed inward, timber supports close enough that I found myself counting the gaps as we moved.
We hadn't gone far when lantern light flared ahead. A man stood in a shallow cut-out along the wall, pick half-raised. He froze, breath catching before recognition replaced fear.
"Gods," he said, lowering the pick carefully. "Didn't hear you coming."
Jaheira raised a hand. "You must be one of the few who've stayed."
"Someone has to." He leaned the pick against the wall and wiped his hands on his trousers, leaving streaks of iron dust. "Name's Dink."
Imoen glanced at him, then at me. "Unlucky," she murmured.
Dink snorted. "Tell me about it."
"You're alone," Jaheira said.
"Everyone else cleared out," Dink replied. "Can't say I blame them." He hesitated. "But the pay's better now. Iron's scarce. The deeper veins are still good—if you can reach them."
"I won't pretend I'm fearless," he added. "But fear doesn't keep a roof over you."
His hands were steady.
That mattered.
"I'm not brave enough to go deeper," he went on. "Not like Kylee."
The name landed heavier than the rest.
"He talked to me first," Dink said. "Said he was still going down, even after what happened at the entrance. Thought the deeper tunnels might be quieter." He reached into a pouch and drew a dagger, holding it out carefully. "He must've dropped it while we were talking. I didn't notice until he was already gone."
Dink's fingers lingered on the hilt.
"He keeps it close," he said. "Not for show." His eyes flicked down the tunnel. "If he's gone deeper without it, and something catches him off guard… I'd rather he have a fighting chance."
Jaheira's gaze settled briefly on the dagger, then returned to Dink.
"Everyone's been on edge since the attack."
"Aye," Dink said. "More than they'll admit. No one's listening to the stone anymore—just the dark. Kylee most of all."
That drew my full attention.
"I don't know what to call it," he continued. "But it hasn't felt right since." He swallowed. "If the dagger slipped, it would've been because his head was somewhere else."
He held it out a little farther.
"I won't ask you to go looking," he said quickly. "Just… if you see him, pass this back."
The lantern guttered.
"I'll stay here," Dink added. "Close enough to the light. Far enough not to be foolish."
He looked at us again, relief threading through the fear.
"Still," he said, "I'm glad you're here. If the kobolds have everyone this unsettled… then this isn't just bad luck."
The mine waited, deeper and quieter than before.