The summons came sooner than Lunrik expected. Barely a cycle seemed to pass in the quiet monotony of the cell before the door hissed open again, revealing the same two impassive wardens who had first escorted him to the Chamber of Inquiry.
"Surface-Gamma-Three," the brown-bearded warden announced. "Your presence is required in the Vault Sector access corridor. The transfer of Subject Gamma-One is complete. Your companion, Subject Gamma-Two, awaits escort back to designated quarters."
Kaelith was back. Relief surged through Lunrik, sharp and immediate, overriding the apprehension about the upcoming 'persuasion' task with Eryndor. She was safe. Her mission was complete. He pushed himself off the slab, ignoring the lingering aches, eager to see her, to know she was unharmed.
"Lead the way," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral.
The wardens escorted him out of the cell, down the familiar sterile corridors of the detention level, and towards the lifts. They ascended this time, not to the administrative levels or the Kinetics Guild workshops, but higher, towards sectors Lunrik hadn't yet seen. The lift hummed smoothly, passing levels marked with complex runic designations – 'Deep Archives', 'Resonance Containment', 'Chrono-Geological Survey' – hinting at the vast, hidden complexities of Grimfang Deep beyond the industrial centers.
They finally stopped at a level simply marked 'Vault Sector Access'. The doors opened onto a corridor vastly different from any other Lunrik had seen. The walls weren't metal or wood, but seamless, polished obsidian, reflecting the soft, ambient light emanating from the floor itself. The air was perfectly still, silent, carrying a faint scent like ozone and ancient dust. Runes, intricate and glowing faintly with contained power, were embedded directly into the obsidian walls at regular intervals, forming complex patterns that seemed to pulse with latent energy. This felt less like a corridor and more like the inside of a sophisticated magical containment device.
Standing near the lift doors, looking weary but unharmed, was Kaelith. Relief washed over Lunrik again, stronger this time. He saw the answering relief flicker in her eyes as she saw him approach. Beside her stood the young loremaster apprentice who had escorted Lunrik to Thrain previously, and two heavily armed Vault Sentinels clad in obsidian-black armour that seemed to absorb the light, their faces completely obscured by featureless helms. They radiated an aura of silent, absolute vigilance far exceeding even the Gate Wardens.
"Kaelith," Lunrik breathed, stopping before her. "Are you alright?"
"Tired," she admitted, her voice low. "The lower levels… they are old. Strange. But we reached the Vault transfer point. Eryndor is… secure." Her gaze held a hint of worry when she mentioned the Frostmane.
The young loremaster stepped forward. "Subject Gamma-Three," he addressed Lunrik formally. "High Loremaster Thrain authorizes your temporary access to Observation Chamber Delta, adjacent to Subject Gamma-One's holding cell within the secure Vault perimeter. Subject Gamma-Two," he nodded to Kaelith, "will be escorted back to your shared quarters now."
Lunrik felt a pang of disappointment. He had hoped they might have a moment alone, a chance to speak freely after Kaelith's mission. But the dwarves maintained their strict separation protocols. Kaelith gave him another quick, reassuring look, a silent promise to talk later, then turned and followed the wardens back towards the lift, leaving Lunrik with the loremaster and the two imposing Vault Sentinels.
"This way," the loremaster apprentice instructed, leading Lunrik down the obsidian corridor. The floor glowed softly beneath their feet, the silence broken only by their footsteps. The runes on the walls pulsed faintly as they passed, perhaps monitoring their passage.
They reached a massive door, seemingly crafted from a single piece of polished obsidian, marked with complex interlocking runes that shimmered with power. The Vault Sentinels took up positions on either side. The loremaster placed his hand on a specific rune, murmuring a long, complex passphrase in Dwarven. The runes on the door flared brightly, then subsided, and the immense obsidian slab slid silently aside, revealing the Vault sector proper.
Lunrik gasped involuntarily. He found himself looking into a vast, circular chamber, the walls lined with countless identical, sealed metallic vaults reaching up into shadowy heights. The air hummed with contained power, far stronger than anywhere else he'd been. In the center of the chamber, a beam of soft, white light descended from an unseen point high above, illuminating a raised platform. This place felt ancient, sacred, immensely powerful – a repository of secrets locked away for centuries.
"Observation Chamber Delta," the loremaster said, guiding Lunrik towards a smaller door set into the curving wall, away from the main vaults. "Subject Gamma-One is contained within the adjacent cell. The chamber provides one-way visual and auditory access. Your interaction will be monitored."
He opened the door to the observation chamber. It was small, dark, dominated by a large panel of what looked like smoked glass or obsidian set into one wall, offering a clear view into the adjoining cell. The cell itself was spartan, similar to the detention cells but perhaps even more secure, bathed in a soft, calming light. Eryndor Frostmane sat huddled on a simple pallet, wrapped in his blanket, rocking slightly back and forth, his eyes wide and vacant. He looked utterly broken.
A small communication grille was set beneath the viewing panel. "You may speak through the grille," the loremaster instructed. "He can hear you, but cannot see you. Persuade him, Gamma-Three. Convince him that cooperation regarding the Whispering Ice Pass is necessary for his own safety, and for the security of all against Magdra Ashgrim." The loremaster then stepped back, taking up a position near the chamber door, observing Lunrik expectantly.
Lunrik approached the viewing panel, his heart heavy. Seeing Eryndor like this, so consumed by fear, made the task ahead feel even more distasteful. He was being asked to exploit this terrified young man's fragile state for dwarven strategic gain. Alaric's ghost urged manipulation: Use his fear. Offer false hope. Twist the truth. Extract the data. Lunrik recoiled from the thought.
He took a deep breath and spoke into the grille, keeping his voice low, calm, trying to project empathy he genuinely felt. "Eryndor? It's… Lunrik. The Dravenwolf."
Eryndor flinched violently at the sound of his voice, curling tighter into his blanket, muttering incoherently.
"Eryndor, listen to me," Lunrik continued gently. "I know you're scared. What you've been through… it's unimaginable. But you're not with the Ashfang anymore. You're deep inside the dwarves' mountain. They… they are protecting you, for now."
Eryndor shook his head frantically, not looking towards the hidden panel. "Protecting? No… they want it… the pass… Grandmother said… curse follows the path… death lies beneath the ice…" His words were fragmented, paranoid, steeped in Frostmane superstition mixed with genuine terror.
"Magdra Ashgrim wants the pass too, Eryndor," Lunrik reasoned softly. "She sent Grakkus and his warriors to hunt you down for it. They would have tortured the information out of you. The dwarves stopped them. They see Magdra as a threat to their own borders." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "Sharing what you know with the dwarves… it might be the only way to keep that knowledge out of Magdra's hands permanently. To keep the pass sealed, protected." He was framing cooperation as protection, a partial truth perhaps, but one rooted in the immediate reality of the Ashfang threat.
Eryndor slowly stopped rocking. He peeked out from his blanket, his eyes still wide with fear, but with a flicker of something else – confusion? Consideration? "Keep… it sealed?" he whispered. "Not… use it?"
"The dwarves value their isolation above all else," Lunrik said, seizing the opening. "They fear surface incursions. Opening an ancient pass, inviting conflict… it goes against their deepest principles. They want to secure the knowledge primarily to prevent its use by outsiders like Magdra." He hoped this was true; Thrain's motives remained complex, but border security seemed paramount.
Eryndor seemed to ponder this, chewing on his lip. "Grandmother's map… fragments only… landmarks… riddles… Whispering Ice… Dragon's Tooth peak… the Sunken Gate…" He mumbled names, pieces of the puzzle, his mind clearly grappling with fragmented lore passed down through generations.
"Tell them, Eryndor," Lunrik urged gently. "Tell the Loremasters what you know. Not the exact route, perhaps, but the landmarks, the warnings, the nature of the pass. Help them understand the threat so they can protect their borders, and in doing so, keep Magdra from ever using it." He focused on the shared enemy, the immediate danger. "It's the best way to honor your grandmother's warnings, perhaps. By ensuring the path remains truly sealed, guarded by those who fear its opening."
Eryndor looked towards the viewing panel, though he couldn't see Lunrik. Tears welled in his eyes. "She said… the path remembers blood… Banehallow blood…" he whispered, a chill entering his voice. "Yours… mine… it calls to the watchers…"
Watchers? Like the automaton? Or something else? Before Lunrik could probe further, Eryndor seemed to make a decision. He took a deep, shuddering breath.
"Alright," he choked out, his voice barely audible. "Alright. I will… tell the Loremaster. About the landmarks. The warnings. So… so Magdra can never walk that path." He buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking.
Lunrik let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He had done it. He had persuaded Eryndor, not through threats or manipulation, but by appealing to his fear of Magdra and his desire to honor his ancestors' warnings. It felt… less dirty than he had feared, though the dwarves' ultimate intentions remained worryingly unclear.
The loremaster apprentice behind Lunrik nodded curtly, clearly having monitored the entire exchange. He stepped forward and spoke into a separate communication grille. "Subject Gamma-One indicates willingness to cooperate regarding Pass designation 'Whispering Ice'. Requesting primary assessment team." He then turned to Lunrik. "Your task here is complete, Gamma-Three. Return to your quarters."
As Lunrik allowed himself to be escorted out of the Vault Sector, leaving Eryndor to face the 'gentle techniques' of the Loremasters, he felt a profound sense of unease. He had navigated the dwarven demands, potentially secured vital intelligence for them, and perhaps even protected Eryndor from Magdra in the process. But he had also confirmed the existence of the pass and its connection to Banehallow blood. What ancient watchers guarded this path? And had he, in trying to secure the lock, inadvertently given the dwarves a key they might one day be tempted to use themselves? The echoes in the Vault Sector hinted at secrets far deeper and more dangerous than just forgotten passageways.