Faelith stepped into the central hall of the elven silver mine, and her eyes went wide with sheer shock.
The air inside was cool and carried the faint scent of stone and metal. Each of her steps echoed off the high ceiling before fading into the vastness of the place.
The ground floor alone was large enough to swallow a thousand workers without ever seeming crowded, and a wide staircase rose toward five more floors above.
On either side of the hall, wide gates and doors opened onto the refining, processing, and storage areas.
And at the far end, closing off the hall, five steel-sealed gates guarded the way into the mine itself, which had been almost completely renovated.
Faelith turned slowly on the spot, her lips parted as she took in every corner of the hall.
Ethan watched her from a step behind, the corner of his mouth turned up, clearly pleased with her reaction.
