The High Loremaster's pronouncement left Lunrik reeling. Separated again. Kaelith sent on a dangerous, secret mission deep into Grimfang's restricted sectors with Eryndor, guided only by her Dravenwolf lore intersecting dwarven knowledge. Him, left behind, effectively tethered to Gyra's laboratory and Borin's war room, a research subject and reluctant tactical advisor. It felt like a deliberate severing, preventing them from becoming too reliant on each other, ensuring their individual utility to the dwarves remained paramount. The 'conditional arrangement' felt increasingly like a gilded cage.
"High Loremaster," Lunrik protested, trying to keep the desperation from his voice, "Kaelith and I operate best together. Her skills complement mine. Separating us weakens our effectiveness, especially if further surface reconnaissance is required."
Thrain regarded him with ancient, unwavering eyes. "Your assessment of conventional surface tactics is noted, werewolf. However, Grimfang Deep operates on principles of specialized efficiency. Master Gyra requires your specific resonance signature for her analysis. Kaelith's unique navigational knowledge is required for the secure transfer of the Frostmane asset. Deploying you both on the same task would be… inefficient." He paused, a hint of steel entering his soft voice. "Furthermore, your continued sanctuary is conditional upon fulfilling the roles we deem necessary. This divergence serves Grimfang's security. That is sufficient."
The decision was final, immutable as the mountain itself. Arguing further would be pointless, potentially detrimental. Lunrik forced himself to nod, masking his frustration and anxiety. "I understand, High Loremaster. I will cooperate as required."
"Wise," Thrain commented mildly. He gestured towards the door. "The loremaster apprentice will escort you to transitional quarters near the Kinetics Guild sector. Master Gyra will summon you shortly. Forgemaster Borin will provide updates on the surface situation as necessary." He turned back to his ancient tome, the audience clearly concluded.
Lunrik followed the young loremaster out of the study, his mind churning. He felt a growing sense of unease about Kaelith's mission. Navigating ancient, restricted dwarven sectors based on intersecting surface lore sounded incredibly dangerous. What if the sectors weren't abandoned? What if ancient defenses remained active? What if the 'escort team' Thrain provided had ulterior motives? He desperately wanted to warn Kaelith, to share his concerns, but he knew he wouldn't be allowed contact before her departure. He could only trust in her skills, her instincts, and hope the dwarves' self-interest extended to keeping their vital guide alive.
The 'transitional quarters' turned out to be another small, metallic cell, identical to the first one he'd occupied, located on the same level as Gyra's workshop. It was marginally more convenient for the Master Artificer, but offered no more freedom or comfort than the detention block. The brief illusion of improved status gained by sharing the cell with Kaelith vanished completely. He was back to being solitary confinement subject Gamma-Three.
Time blurred again. He was provided with the standard nutrient paste and water. He paced the small cell, trying to work through his anxiety, trying to access Alaric's strategic mind to analyze the dwarves' motives, Kaelith's potential dangers, Magdra's likely next moves. The ghost king offered fragmented insights – dwarven politics likely involved intense inter-guild rivalries; Thrain represented lore and tradition, Borin security and military might, Gyra technological advancement; manipulating these factions against each other might be possible but incredibly risky. Securing the Frostmane's knowledge was likely Thrain's priority, analyzing the hunter tech Gyra's, repelling the Ashfang Borin's. Their goals aligned for now, but could easily diverge.
His solitary reflections were interrupted relatively quickly. The cell door hissed open, and Master Artificer Gyra stood there, looking impatient. "Gamma-Three. To the lab. We have work to do."
Lunrik followed her back to Analysis Chamber Seven. The atmosphere was charged with even more intense activity than before. Several more dwarven technicians hurried about, adjusting equipment, monitoring consoles displaying complex energy readings. The two hunters' suits of armour were now partially disassembled, revealing intricate layers of micro-circuitry and energy conduits woven into the fabric. The energy rifles were subjected to further diagnostic probes.
"While your companion guides the Frostmane asset through forgotten pathways," Gyra began without preamble, gesturing towards a large diagnostic chair surrounded by humming devices and articulated sensor arms, "you will assist me in understanding the fundamental principles of this hostile technology." She pointed towards the chair. "Sit. We need baseline readings of your Banehallow resonance under controlled energy field exposure."
Lunrik hesitated, eyeing the chair and the surrounding apparatus with deep suspicion. This looked far more invasive than simply standing near the rifle. "What kind of exposure?"
"Low-level, broad-spectrum kinetic and electromagnetic fields," Gyra explained impatiently. "Designed to stimulate and measure your inherent energy signature, its fluctuations, its points of resonance and dissonance. Perfectly safe," she added, though her definition of 'safe' likely differed significantly from Lunrik's. "Essential for calibrating our analytical tools to decipher the hunter technology's operational frequencies and potential weaknesses."
Seeing no alternative, Lunrik reluctantly sat in the cold, metallic chair. Restraints, thankfully light ones seemingly designed more for precise positioning than imprisonment, clicked into place around his wrists and temples. Sensor pads were attached to his skin. The articulated arms moved closer, emitters humming softly.
"Remain still. Report any significant physical or… unusual sensory phenomena," Gyra instructed, her eyes glued to a monitor displaying fluctuating graphs and figures as the fields activated.
Lunrik felt… nothing, at first. Just a faint static hum in the air, a slight tingling on his skin where the sensors touched. He focused inward, trying to sense any change, any reaction from the curse, from Alaric's ghost.
Then, as Gyra slowly increased the field intensity, he began to feel it. A low thrumming deep within his bones, resonating with the dormant Stigma on his hand. The curse stirred, not aggressively, but like a slumbering beast poked with a stick – a low growl of awareness, a flicker of paranoia at the edges of his mind. Alaric's memories surfaced more vividly, fragments of battle, betrayal, power, swirling just beneath his conscious thought.
"Subject's core resonance is spiking," Gyra noted clinically, observing her monitors. "Fluctuations correlating with increased theta-wave activity and minor galvanic skin response. The Banehallow signature is demonstrably reactive to external kinetic fields."
She adjusted a dial. The thrumming intensified, becoming uncomfortable. Lunrik felt a phantom echo of the rage that had consumed Alaric during the Throne Wars, a dark heat building beneath his skin. The Stigma on his hand felt warm, the dark veins beneath the glove pulsing faintly.
"Report," Gyra commanded.
"Feeling… pressure," Lunrik grunted through clenched teeth. "Internal heat. Memories… stronger."
"Excellent," Gyra murmured, utterly detached from his discomfort, focused only on the data. "Now, introducing resonance frequency from Artifact RX-7 replica signature…"
A new frequency overlaid the first, this one higher-pitched, dissonant. It felt like scraping nails on stone inside his skull. The curse reacted instantly, violently recoiling from the intrusive frequency. Lunrik gasped as a wave of nausea and cold dread washed over him, Alaric's ghost screaming silent warnings of inimical force, hostile presence. The Stigma on his hand flared with sharp, sudden pain.
"Significant dissonance spike!" Gyra exclaimed, her eyes wide with discovery. "Negative resonance lock confirmed! The hunter frequency actively repels, disrupts the Banehallow signature! This isn't just incompatibility; it's designed antagonism!"
The pain intensified, the conflicting energies warring within him feeling like they were tearing him apart. Black spots danced before his eyes. "Stop," he forced out, straining against the restraints. "Too strong!"
Gyra hesitated for only a fraction of a second, glancing from her monitor readings back to Lunrik's strained face, perhaps remembering Thrain's warning about jeopardizing cooperation. With a reluctant sigh, she cut the power to the emitters.
The intrusive frequencies vanished. The pressure eased. Lunrik slumped back in the chair, gasping, sweat dripping from his brow despite the workshop's cool temperature. The curse subsided back into its dormant state, leaving behind a residue of anger and violation.
"Remarkable," Gyra breathed, already analyzing the captured data. "The antagonistic resonance is undeniable. This confirms Forgemaster Borin's 'ancient legend' hypothesis holds significant weight. This technology, or its core principles, appears specifically designed to target and disrupt your lineage." She looked at Lunrik, her expression a mixture of scientific triumph and cold calculation. "Your existence, werewolf, is an affront to whatever power created this technology."
Lunrik felt truly cold now, the implications sinking in. Borin was right. They weren't just hunters; they were potentially exterminators, wielding weapons specifically tuned to destroy him and anyone like him.
"Which means," Gyra continued thoughtfully, "they likely possess methods to track your signature far more effectively than we realized. And neutralizing you would be their primary objective in any direct encounter." She tapped thoughtfully on her console. "This data necessitates a revision of Forgemaster Borin's defensive strategies. And it makes your survival, paradoxically, even more critical to our research."
She turned off the restraints. "Testing concluded for now. Return to your quarters. Remain available."
Lunrik stumbled out of the chair, legs shaky, mind reeling. He had survived the 'testing', provided Gyra with invaluable, terrifying data. He now knew the hunters were likely designed exterminators. But this knowledge offered little comfort. It only highlighted his vulnerability, his status as a targeted anomaly. And Kaelith was out there, navigating deeper into the mountain, while he remained here, a prisoner bound by dwarven calculations, waiting for the next test, the next demand, walking a perilous path carved in stone and shadow, utterly alone.