The knowledge that his very blood might be the key Magdra sought – a living catalyst for some ancient, dangerous pass – settled like glacial ice in Lunrik's gut. He returned to his cell from the Vault Sector debriefing feeling more exposed, more fundamentally targeted, than ever before. The dwarves knew. Thrain, Borin, Gyra… they all understood his potential significance now, not just as a bearer of the curse's resonance, but as a potential tool or component related to Magdra's primary objective. His 'conditional sanctuary' felt thinner, more fragile.
He paced the small, metallic space, the silence amplifying the frantic race of his thoughts. Kaelith was still deep within the mountain on her perilous mission with Eryndor. Eryndor himself was now subject to dwarven 'assessment', his terrifying secret dragged into the light. And Lunrik? He was waiting. Waiting for the next demand, the next test, the next calculation in the dwarves' complex game. The weight of being the 'key' was almost heavier than the weight of the curse itself.
He didn't have to wait long. The cell door hissed open, revealing not the usual impassive wardens, but Master Artificer Gyra. Her expression was sharp, impatient, yet held a flicker of something else – frustrated curiosity, perhaps.
"Gamma-Three," she announced briskly. "A development. Forgemaster Borin has encountered… significant difficulties… analyzing the core power matrix and resonance shielding of the retrieved hunter artifacts." A hint of smug satisfaction entered her voice. "Conventional kinetic analysis, as I predicted, yields only anomalies and defensive feedback."
Lunrik remained wary. "And this requires my presence, Master Artificer?"
"Indirectly," Gyra conceded, clearly annoyed by the necessity. "Borin, in his… rustic wisdom… believes consulting an artificer with expertise in 'unconventional harmonics' might prove necessary. Specifically, Borgrum Coghand." She practically spat the name. "Furthermore, Borin insists your presence is required during this consultation, citing your unique resonance as potentially crucial for Coghand's unorthodox diagnostic methods." She rolled her eyes subtly. "Likely nonsense, but the Forgemaster insists. You will accompany me to Coghand's workshop on level eighty-six."
Borgrum Coghand. The eccentric, exiled resonance expert Borin had mentioned before, the one whose theories Gyra clearly disdained. Lunrik felt a flicker of interest pierce his apprehension. This was an opportunity. A chance to meet this unconventional dwarf, gauge his attitude, perhaps find an unexpected source of information or even leverage outside the rigid Guild Council structure.
"Understood, Master Artificer," Lunrik replied, keeping his expression neutral.
Gyra led him through the familiar lifts and corridors, descending this time into the older, grimier, noisier depths of level eighty-six. As they approached Sector Gamma-Nine, the polished efficiency of the upper levels gave way entirely to a chaotic labyrinth of workshops overflowing with scrap metal, sputtering machinery, and the pervasive smell of oil and coal dust.
They stopped before Borgrum Coghand's workshop – a battered, gear-shaped door that looked like it had survived several internal explosions. Gyra rapped sharply on the metal surface. After a moment of clanging and muffled cursing from within, the door groaned open, revealing the artificer himself.
Borgrum Coghand was exactly as Lunrik had pictured from Borin's description. Broad, sturdy, clad in stained leather overalls, his magnificent grey beard braided with copper wire, soot smudged on his already grumpy face. His sharp eyes, narrowed with suspicion, took in Gyra first, then lingered on Lunrik with open distaste.
"Master Gyra," Borgrum rumbled, his voice like grinding stones. "Come to grace my humble scrapheap with the pristine presence of the Kinetics Guild? Or has your polished equipment finally failed to decipher something that requires actual understanding instead of just calculation?" His tone dripped with sarcasm and long-held rivalry.
"Forgemaster Borin requires your consultation, Coghand," Gyra stated stiffly, ignoring the jibe. "Regarding the anomalous energy signatures of the captured surface artifacts." She gestured towards Lunrik. "He also requires the presence of the Banehallow-marked subject."
Borgrum's eyes narrowed further as he looked Lunrik up and down again. "The werewolf? Why? Planning to use his cursed howling to shatter the casings?" He spat on the floor just inside his workshop. "Get in, both of you. Don't track too much Guild polish on my floor."
He stepped aside, allowing them entry into the glorious chaos of his workshop. It was exactly as Lunrik imagined from Borin's description in the later chapters (now being introduced) – a vast cavern crammed with tools, components, half-finished automatons, bubbling vials, humming crystals, and the pervasive scent of hot metal and ozone. In the center, amidst the clutter, a young dwarf with mismatched goggles and perpetually surprised hair – Flint Gearspark – was frantically trying to adjust a sputtering steam valve on a large, copper device.
"Master Borgrum! The Mark III Regulator is fluctuating again!" Flint yelped as Gyra and Lunrik entered.
"Deal with it, lad!" Borgrum snapped, waving a dismissive hand before turning his attention back to Gyra. "Right. Hunter artifacts. Resonance antagonism. Banehallow reactivity. Borin thinks my 'unconventional harmonics' might shed light where your conventional kinetics failed?" He chuckled darkly. "About time."
Gyra stiffened. "We require your analysis of the power matrix shielding and the nature of the resonance incompatibility, Coghand. Specifically, why it reacts negatively to the subject's bio-signature."
Borgrum grunted, shuffling over to a workbench where duplicates of the hunter rifle components rested under diagnostic scanners far cruder, yet somehow more menacing, than Gyra's. He picked up the crystal power cell Lunrik had reacted to earlier. "Simple, even for a Kineti-theorist," he declared after a moment's scrutiny, holding it towards Lunrik. "Feel that, werewolf?"
Lunrik focused. Even from several feet away, he felt the faint, unpleasant 'wrongness' emanating from the crystal, the subtle repulsion. "Yes. It feels… hostile."
"Hostile," Borgrum repeated, nodding grimly. "Because it is. This isn't just incompatible resonance, Gyra; it's weaponized dissonance. This crystal matrix isn't just storing energy; it's actively broadcasting a counter-harmonic frequency tuned precisely to disrupt, perhaps even unravel, the specific energy signature of his bloodline." He lowered the crystal, his gaze hard. "This wasn't built by surface dwellers tinkering with scavenged parts. This is sophisticated, ancient, and deliberately malicious."
He looked back at Lunrik, his earlier hostility seemingly momentarily forgotten, replaced by a grim, focused intensity. "Borin was right to summon me. And right to bring you." He gestured towards a sturdy metal chair bolted near the center of the workshop, surrounded by Borgrum's own intimidating array of emitters and focusing lenses. "Sit down, werewolf. Forget Gyra's gentle field baths. We're going to see just how deep this 'antagonism' runs. Time for some proper resonance diagnostics."
Lunrik met the old Artificer's intense gaze. He was no longer just a subject for Gyra's clinical analysis; he was now the key component in Borgrum's potentially dangerous, unconventional experiments. He glanced towards Flint, who had temporarily stabilized the sputtering regulator and was now watching the proceedings with wide, fascinated eyes. Lunrik took a deep breath and walked towards the chair, bracing himself for whatever unorthodox methods Borgrum Coghand had in mind. The journey deeper into dwarven knowledge, and deeper into danger, had truly begun within the chaotic heart of the forge.