The chatter at the central table was a low, gravelly murmur, the words laced with a weariness that went bone-deep.
Daniel, hidden in his corner, focused his [Omniscient Insight], the voices of the seasoned miners becoming as clear as if they were sitting beside him.
"Told you, Grigor, we're not going back down to the new shafts," a burly man with a magnificent, braided beard was saying, slamming his metal mug down on the table for emphasis.
"Not after what happened to Joric's crew. They went in three days ago. Haven't heard a peep since. It's like the mountain just… swallowed them."
Another miner, a wiry woman with a nasty scar across her cheek, shuddered.
"It's the ghost," she whispered, her voice tight with a superstitious fear that was very real.
"I've heard it myself. Late at night, when the drills go quiet. A wailing sound, like a woman crying her heart out rises up from the deepest tunnels. It's an omen, I tell you. A bad one."
