The heavy silence of the service tunnel pressed in on Lunrik as he followed Borgrum back towards the relative noise and heat of level eighty-six. Thrain's orders echoed in his mind – return to Master Coghand's supervision, the Resonance Key development is now Grimfang's highest priority. Kaelith and Fendril were down there, lost in the compromised Lower Deeps, hunted by phasing wraiths and potentially ancient Lurkers, and all Lunrik could do was return to the workshop and wait. The feeling of helplessness was a physical weight, heavier than the dwarven axe in his hand.
Alaric's ghost raged against the inaction. Imbeciles! Calculations and containment while your strength remains untapped! Take command! Force Borin's hand! Descend yourself! Lunrik gritted his teeth, shoving the ghost's demands down. Charging blindly into the depths alone was suicide, no matter how much his fear for Kaelith clawed at him. Thrain held all the power here, and Borgrum, despite his bluster, ultimately answered to the Guild Council. For now, Lunrik's only path was the one dictated by the dwarves: cooperation, calibration, waiting.
They reached Borgrum's workshop without further incident. Flint Gearspark looked up anxiously as they entered, relief flooding his face when he saw them both relatively unharmed.
"Master Borgrum! Subject Gamma-Three! You're back!" He gestured towards the comm panel. "No word from Scout Fendril yet. Forgemaster Borin has locked down all access routes to Sector eighty-nine. Iron Guard reinforcements are establishing hardpoints on level eighty-seven. Master Gyra is analyzing the energy signatures from the junction battle remotely."
"Containment," Borgrum spat the word like a curse, slamming his warhammer down onto a workbench. "Thrain buries his head in bedrock while the mountain groans around him." He turned to Lunrik, his expression grim. "Well, werewolf. While the Council dithers, we work. Thrain wants the Resonance Key operational? Fine. He'll get it. Whether he likes how we use it… that's another matter."
A new intensity settled over the workshop. The previous cycles of testing and calibration had been driven by scientific curiosity and theoretical defense. Now, the work felt personal, urgent. Every adjustment to the emitter, every refinement of the harmonic pulse, felt like forging a weapon not just for dwarven security, but for Kaelith's potential rescue, for Lunrik's own survival against enemies specifically designed to destroy him.
Lunrik threw himself into the process, pushing through his exhaustion and anxiety. He endured the resonance pulses from the calibration rig with grim determination, focusing his will, trying to provide Borgrum and Flint with the cleanest, most stable 'harmonic scream' signature possible. He offered insights gleaned from Alaric's memories about energy flow, resonance dampening, even suggesting minor modifications to the emitter housing based on principles of surface weapon ergonomics, which Borgrum, surprisingly, considered thoughtfully.
"Hmmph," Borgrum grunted after Lunrik suggested angling the emitter lens slightly for better targeting against fast-moving opponents. "Surface 'ergonomics'. Usually nonsense. But… the resonance field does exhibit slight phase drift on lateral discharge…" He started sketching modifications onto a nearby slate. "Flint! Recalculate the focusing crystal alignment for a three-degree offset!"
Flint scrambled to comply, engaging Lunrik in rapid-fire technical questions about werewolf combat speeds and evasion patterns. "So, the crinos form's center of gravity shifts during a lunge? Fascinating! Does that affect harmonic susceptibility?"
It was surreal, discussing the finer points of werewolf biomechanics with an enthusiastic dwarf engineer while Kaelith fought for her life in the darkness below. But the work was a necessary distraction, a way to feel proactive, however indirectly. And Lunrik sensed that his active participation, his willingness to share relevant knowledge (carefully curated, of course), was solidifying his position with Borgrum, shifting their dynamic from unwilling test subject and suspicious artificer towards something resembling a tense, goal-oriented collaboration.
Between sessions, Lunrik returned to the ancient tome Thrain had provided, devouring the dense text, searching for any mention of the Lower Deeps, the Lurkers, or the Resonant Purifiers' specific activities in Sector eighty-nine. He found oblique references to 'failed containment zones', 'unstable resonance experiments', and 'entities disturbed by harmonic dissonance' in sections detailing the Purifiers' downfall. It painted a picture of a faction whose dangerous research had left behind festering wounds deep within the mountain, wounds that might now be reopening. He found no direct mention of Kaelith's 'Root Gate', though the texts spoke vaguely of 'natural resonance conduits' the Purifiers attempted to map or exploit.
He also tried to subtly glean information from Flint during breaks, asking seemingly innocuous questions about Grimfang's layout, security protocols, and communication systems. Flint, eager to share his knowledge (and perhaps impress Kaelith's companion), often provided more detail than Borgrum likely would have approved, sketching maps on scrap metal, explaining the different functions of various Guilds, complaining about supply restrictions imposed by the Council.
"Getting refined chronometer crystals for the Disruptor's braiding matrix was a nightmare!" Flint lamented one cycle, wiping oil from his hands. "Master Gyra's Kinetics Guild controls the primary refinement facilities, and she only approved Master Borgrum's requisition after direct intervention from High Loremaster Thrain himself! Guild rivalries, you know."
Internal politics, just as Alaric's ghost had surmised. Borgrum's project, while now high priority, clearly faced resistance or skepticism from established Guild powers like Gyra. This confirmed Borgrum operated somewhat outside the main power structure, potentially making him a more unpredictable, but also perhaps more useful, ally if their interests aligned.
Still, the waiting was agonizing. Every hour, Lunrik checked the Whisper Stone Borgrum had given him, sending out the coded pulse for Fendril. Silence. Every time a warden arrived with rations, his heart leaped, hoping for news, only to be met with impassive silence or a curt "no updates". The lack of information was a heavy shroud, allowing his darkest fears about Kaelith's fate to fester. He pictured her cornered by hunters, overwhelmed by Lurkers, lost in the collapsing tunnels… He gripped the wolf-head amulet she had given him, its smooth surface a small, desperate comfort against the rising tide of fear.
Even Borgrum's gruff demeanor seemed strained. He worked with obsessive focus, pushing himself, Flint, and Lunrik relentlessly, but Lunrik saw the older dwarf pause occasionally, staring towards the tunnel entrance, listening intently, his expression clouded with worry for his scout.
Late in what Lunrik guessed might be the third cycle since Fendril's disappearance, during a brief pause while the Resonance Key emitter cooled down after a particularly intense test, the workshop's internal comm panel chimed. Not the shrill blast of an alarm, but a coded summons tone.
Borgrum answered instantly. He listened, his expression tightening, then gave a single, curt acknowledgement in Dwarven and cut the connection.
He turned, his face grim. "Word from Gate Command. Via Thrain." He paused, meeting Lunrik's anxious gaze. "Fendril has made contact."
Lunrik felt a surge of adrenaline, hope warring with dread. "Is he… Is Kaelith…?"
"Fendril is alive," Borgrum stated flatly. "His tight-beam signal was weak, intermittent, heavily distorted. He reported… finding the hunters' trail leading deeper, towards ancient Purifier excavation sites. He found signs of Kaelith resisting, leaving deliberate markers." A flicker of pride entered Borgrum's voice. "Good lad. Good scout."
His expression darkened again. "But he also reported encountering… significant resistance. Not just hunters. Activated Purifier defenses. Resonance traps. And… Lurker swarms drawn by the commotion." He took a deep breath. "His last transmission, minutes ago, was fragmented. Mentioned being cornered near 'Primary Resonance Conduit Seven'. Heavy energy fire. And…" Borgrum hesitated, clearly reluctant to deliver the final blow.
"And Kaelith?" Lunrik pressed, his voice barely a whisper.
Borgrum met his gaze directly, his eyes filled with grim certainty. "Fendril's last words were: 'Subject Gamma-Two compromised. Hostiles converging. Activating containment protocol… zero.' Then silence."
Containment protocol zero. Lunrik didn't know dwarven military codes, but the finality in Borgrum's voice was unmistakable. Compromised. Silence. It felt like a death sentence. Kaelith… gone. Lost in the darkness, overwhelmed by hunters and ancient traps, while he waited uselessly cycles above. Grief and rage, cold and sharp, pierced through Lunrik's carefully constructed control. The weight of waiting had become the weight of loss.