The echoes from the Vault Sector – Eryndor's terrified whispers of watchers and blood keys, Thrain's calculating gaze, the confirmation of the pass's significance – followed Lunrik back to his cell. He felt irrevocably changed, no longer just a survivor caught in the currents, but a specific target, a potential key, a focal point for forces both ancient and terrifyingly new. The weight of this knowledge was immense, pressing down harder than the mountain itself.
His solitude didn't last long. As predicted by Gyra and Borin, his 'cooperation' was now required on a more regular basis. Wardens arrived not with nutrient paste, but with summons. Not to Gyra's sterile lab or Thrain's imposing chamber, but back down to level eighty-six, to the chaotic, pulsing heart of Borgrum Coghand's workshop.
Stepping back into that cavern of controlled chaos felt strangely familiar now. The roar of the forge, the hiss of steam, the smell of hot metal and ozone – it was the scent of dwarven ingenuity at its most raw, its most unconventional. Borgrum stood amidst the clutter, bellowing instructions at Flint Gearspark, who was perched precariously atop a large, humming capacitor bank, trying to reconnect thick, sparking cables.
"Hold the flux steady, lad!" Borgrum roared over the din. "We need a clean resonance feed for the initial template alignment!"
"Trying, Master Borgrum!" Flint yelped back, narrowly avoiding a shower of sparks. "But the secondary harmonic buffer keeps drifting!"
Borgrum spotted Lunrik entering with his warden escort. "Ah, the werewolf. About time." He waved dismissively at the wardens. "Leave him. He's under my supervision now for Project Disruptor calibration." The wardens hesitated, clearly uncomfortable leaving a prisoner with the eccentric Artificer, but Borgrum's glare and the implicit authority granted by his priority project sent them reluctantly on their way.
Borgrum turned his attention fully to Lunrik. "Right. Forget Gyra's gentle tickles. We need to refine the 'harmonic scream' signature we captured. Need to understand its peaks, its decay rate, its stability under amplification." He gestured towards the intimidating calibration chair, which looked recently repaired after the last session's overload. "In the seat. We have work to do."
Lunrik complied, settling into the cold metal chair, trying to ignore the faint scorch marks and the memory of the agonizing energy feedback. Flint, having seemingly wrestled the capacitor into submission, hurried over to fit the sensor-laden calibration helm over Lunrik's head.
"Apologies again, Subject Gamma-Three," Flint muttered, his fingers surprisingly deft as he checked connections. "Master Borgrum insists direct neural resonance sampling provides the most accurate data for harmonic weaponization."
"Just try not to blow up the workshop again, Flint," Lunrik replied dryly, bracing himself.
"Working on it!" Flint assured him earnestly.
Borgrum threw the main lever, and the familiar deep vibration started, resonating through Lunrik's bones, agitating the dormant Stigma. He focused on controlling his breathing, on remaining detached as Borgrum began introducing low levels of the antagonistic hunter frequency, mapping the precise contours of Lunrik's defensive resonance 'scream'.
The cycles fell into a pattern. Hours spent enduring resonant pulses in the calibration chair, providing the raw data Borgrum needed. Followed by periods of rest back in his cell, where he poured over the ancient tome Thrain had provided, searching for clues about the 'Resonant Purifiers', the hunters' origins, or the nature of the 'watchers' Eryndor feared. Then back to the workshop, where Borgrum and Flint argued over harmonic braiding schematics, amplifier matrix tolerances, and cryo-coolant flow rates, occasionally demanding Lunrik's presence for another test pulse or proximity scan.
During the 'downtime' in the workshop, while Borgrum was immersed in calculations or shouting at a faulty steam valve, Flint often gravitated towards Lunrik, his curiosity overcoming his nervousness.
"Master Borgrum's 'braided scream' concept is revolutionary!" Flint enthused one cycle, wiping grease from his goggles. "Splitting the chaotic cascade into manageable harmonic threads… it defies standard Kinetic Guild energy principles! Master Gyra would call it recklessly inefficient!"
"Does Borgrum think it will work?" Lunrik asked, genuinely interested now in the success of the weapon that might be his only defense.
"He's certain!" Flint declared confidently. "Well, mostly certain. He says the theory is sound, like braiding multiple weak steam jets into one powerful cutting torch. The challenge is weaving the harmonic threads back together just before discharge without causing catastrophic feedback." He lowered his voice. "He's using pre-Schism resonance stabilization techniques mentioned in texts Thrain only granted him access to after your resonance proved so… potent. Highly controversial stuff."
This confirmed Lunrik's suspicion – his presence, his unique resonance, was granting Borgrum access to knowledge and resources previously denied to him, increasing the Artificer's standing (and perhaps resentment) within the Guilds.
"Still no word on Kaelith?" Lunrik asked quietly, the question always hovering at the back of his mind.
Flint's enthusiasm dimmed slightly. He shook his head, avoiding Lunrik's gaze. "Vault Sector transfer protocols are… opaque, even to most Artificers. High Loremaster Thrain controls that information tightly. Forgemaster Borin only gets security updates, no details on operative status unless there's a breach." His sympathy seemed genuine. "But Huntress Kaelith… she seemed incredibly capable. I'm sure she's alright."
Lunrik appreciated the sentiment, though it did little to ease his worry.
The work continued. They faced setbacks – a focusing crystal fractured under harmonic stress, a coolant leak threatened to freeze half the workshop, Flint accidentally reversed the polarity on a capacitor resulting in another minor explosion that singed Borgrum's beard (and earned Flint a torrent of creative dwarven curses). Yet, slowly, painstakingly, the Resonance Key emitter began to take shape on Borgrum's workbench – a complex, slightly unwieldy assembly of braided conduits, humming crystals, and focusing lenses, all centered around the core amplifier matrix designed to harness Lunrik's chaotic counter-resonance.
During one late cycle, while Borgrum and Flint were arguing over the final calibration sequence for the bio-resonant trigger mechanism keyed to Lunrik's Stigma, Lunrik felt it again – that subtle, deep-strata vibration he'd noticed before. Faint, rhythmic, pulsing through the rock floor.
He frowned, tilting his head, listening past the workshop noise. "Master Borgrum? That tremor… it's back."
Borgrum paused mid-argument, straining to listen. Flint froze, his eyes wide. The tremor was undeniable this time, a low, steady pulse like a colossal heartbeat deep within the mountain, accompanied by a faint, almost subsonic hum that seemed to make the air itself vibrate.
Borgrum immediately strode over to his seismic monitoring station, his earlier annoyance forgotten, replaced by wary concentration. He checked the gauges, frowning deeply. "Deep strata resonance," he confirmed, his voice grim. "Pattern intensifying. Stronger than before. Localized… sector eighty-nine. Still near the Lower Deeps access Kaelith used." He looked sharply at Lunrik. "This isn't natural settling."
Just as the words left his mouth, the shrill blast of the high-priority alarm klaxon shattered the workshop's relative quiet, accompanied by the flashing pulse of red emergency lights. A metallic voice crackled urgently from the comm panel, speaking rapid-fire Dwarven.
Borgrum listened, his face turning to granite. Flint gasped, stumbling back from the console. Lunrik felt his blood run cold, already knowing, somehow, what the alarm signified.
Borgrum slammed his hand down, silencing the klaxon within the workshop. He turned slowly, his eyes like chips of ice meeting Lunrik's.
"Trouble," Borgrum stated flatly, his voice heavy with grim finality. "Major trouble." He spat on the floor, the sound sharp in the sudden silence. "Security breach confirmed. Lower Deeps, Sector eighty-nine. Multiple containment fields down. Seismic activity escalating." He paused, his gaze locking onto Lunrik's. "And confirmed hostile engagement involving Captain Korgul's escort team."
He didn't need to say her name. Kaelith. She was caught in whatever nightmare was unfolding in the echoing darkness far below. The whispers from the deep had become a roar.