The return to the sterile silence of his cell offered little respite. Gyra's 'testing' had left Lunrik feeling raw, exposed, the antagonistic resonance of the hunter technology echoing unpleasantly in his bones and stirring the dormant curse in ways simple combat hadn't. Borin's theory, now seemingly confirmed by Gyra's data, painted a horrifying picture: ancient, possibly dwarven-derived technology specifically designed to eradicate the Banehallow lineage. Who were these hunters? Descendants of exiled dwarven factions, as Borin speculated? Wielding forbidden knowledge purged after the Great Schism? The implications were staggering.
Lunrik paced the confines of his cell, unable to rest. He felt like a marked animal, hunted not just for political reasons or curse-fueled ambition, but targeted for extermination by an enemy wielding weapons tuned to his very essence. His survival, Gyra had chillingly noted, was now paradoxically critical to the dwarves' research into countering this threat. He was simultaneously a target and a vital data source, a pawn whose continued existence served dwarven interests, at least for now.
Where did Kaelith fit into this? Her mission to escort Eryndor to the Vault of Sealed Knowledge felt increasingly perilous. If the hunters possessed technology capable of detecting Banehallow resonance, could they also detect other magical signatures? Could Kaelith's Dravenwolf nature attunement, or Eryndor's own (presumably weaker) Frostmane/Banehallow resonance, register on their scanners? Were they inadvertently leading the hunters, or perhaps Magdra's forces if they deciphered Eryndor's path, towards a secure dwarven vault deep within the mountain?
The thought made him sick with worry. Kaelith was capable, resourceful, but she was navigating unknown, ancient dwarven sectors, potentially filled with forgotten traps or guardians, while possibly being hunted by enemies whose full capabilities were still unknown. He felt powerless, trapped in his cell while she faced dangers he couldn't even fully comprehend.
His restless pacing was interrupted by the hiss of the cell door. Expecting wardens with nutrient paste, Lunrik turned, only to find Forgemaster Borin standing there, his expression even grimmer than usual.
"Surface-dweller," Borin began without preamble, stepping inside. "Master Gyra has briefed me on her findings regarding the resonance antagonism. Disturbing confirmation of ancient warnings." He stroked his beard, his eyes troubled. "This necessitates accelerating our understanding of both the hunters and Magdra Ashgrim's immediate objectives."
He paused, fixing Lunrik with his sharp gaze. "High Loremaster Thrain concurs. Passive observation is no longer sufficient. We require… proactive intelligence gathering. On the surface."
Lunrik tensed. Another mission? So soon after the battle, after Gyra's tests? "What do you propose, Forgemaster?"
"Magdra's forces, though leaderless after Grakkus's demise, have not dispersed," Borin reported gruffly. "Our sensors show them consolidating near the ice cave network, establishing a more fortified perimeter. They are likely awaiting new leadership or orders from Magdra. But scouts – their scouts – are probing westward, towards the area your companion identified as the 'Whispering Ice Pass'." He tapped a finger against his armoured chest plate. "They are actively searching for the route. We cannot allow them to find it."
"You want me to stop them?" Lunrik asked, incredulous. Alone? Against potentially thirty or more Ashfang?
"Direct confrontation is unwise," Borin conceded. "But disruption? Misdirection? Observation of their search patterns, identification of any maps or guides they possess… this is achievable. Your… familiarity with werewolf pack behavior and surface terrain remains valuable." He hesitated, then added grudgingly, "And your recent performance against their scouts, while unauthorized, demonstrated a certain… effectiveness."
It was the closest Borin would likely ever come to acknowledging Lunrik hadn't just been lucky.
"My companion, Kaelith…" Lunrik began, hoping to leverage her inclusion again.
"Is currently engaged in a mission vital to Grimfang's internal security," Borin cut him off firmly. "The transfer of the Frostmane asset takes precedence. She is unavailable." He saw the protest forming on Lunrik's face and held up a hand. "However, you will not go entirely alone."
He stepped aside, revealing someone standing just outside the cell door – a dwarf Lunrik hadn't seen before. This one was younger, leaner than most dwarves, with bright, intelligent eyes that seemed constantly assessing his surroundings. He wore practical, dark leather gear, not armour, and carried an array of complex-looking tools and small devices attached to his belt and harness, along with a dwarven crossbow slung across his back. His light brown beard was shorter, braided simply. He looked less like a warrior or engineer, and more like… a scout? An infiltrator?
"This is Scout Fendril," Borin introduced them curtly. "He is one of our… surface interaction specialists. Familiar with the Peaks' upper reaches, skilled in stealth, tracking, and kinetic trap deployment." Fendril gave Lunrik a brief, appraising nod, his expression neutral but sharp. "He will accompany you. His primary role is observation, reporting back via secured tight-beam communicator, and ensuring your adherence to operational parameters. He is authorized to utilize disabling force should you deviate… significantly."
Another minder, then. Skilled, undoubtedly, but ultimately loyal to Borin, ensuring Lunrik didn't step out of line. The chains might be longer, allowing him back to the surface, but they were still firmly held.
"Your objective," Borin continued, his tone hardening again, "is to approach the Ashfang encampment area. Observe their search patterns towards the Whispering Ice Pass. Identify their methods, any guides or maps they use. If possible, disrupt their search without direct, large-scale engagement. Mislead their trackers. Trigger minor avalanches using kinetic charges Fendril carries – subtle ones, appearing natural. Sow confusion. Delay them. Buy time for Kaelith's mission to conclude and for us to analyze the hunter technology further."
He handed Lunrik the dwarven axe and climbing spikes again, along with fresh nutrient paste tubes and a thermal cloak identical to the last. "Fendril carries additional equipment. You leave within the hour via a secondary, concealed exit tunnel near this level – avoids alerting unnecessary personnel via the main Gate." He gave Lunrik a final, hard look. "Do not underestimate the Ashfang, even leaderless. Do not underestimate the hunters, who may still be operating in the area. And do not, under any circumstances, attempt to locate or interfere with Kaelith's mission. Your paths are separate for now. Understood?"
"Understood, Forgemaster," Lunrik replied, his mind already racing, analyzing the mission parameters, the risks, the opportunities. It was dangerous, sending him back out with only one dwarf he didn't know, against a hostile Ashfang force, potentially still shadowed by exterminators. But it was also a chance. A chance to actively work against Magdra's plans. A chance to learn more about the Peaks, the pass, maybe even find clues about the hunters that Gyra couldn't uncover in her lab. A chance to act, instead of just reacting or being passively studied.
And perhaps, just perhaps, a chance to find some trace of Kaelith's passage, some reassurance she was safe, despite Borin's strict orders.
"Good," Borin grunted. "Fendril will escort you to the exit tunnel. Report hourly via your communicator. Maintain stealth. Prioritize information gathering and disruption over conflict." He turned to leave, then paused at the door. "And werewolf… try not to get killed. Master Gyra requires further resonance testing upon your return." Even his concern was framed by scientific necessity.
The door hissed shut, leaving Lunrik alone with Scout Fendril. The young dwarf looked him over again, his expression still neutral but alert.
"Ready to face the surface chill again, Banehallow-marked?" Fendril asked, his voice surprisingly light, lacking the deep gravel of Borin or the wardens. There was an edge of curiosity, maybe even a hint of dry humor, in his tone.
Lunrik hefted the dwarven axe, settling its weight in his hand. He met Fendril's gaze. "Ready as I'll ever be, Scout."
Together, the unlikely pair – the cursed werewolf prince wearing an omega's skin and the quiet dwarven surface interaction specialist – turned and headed towards the secondary exit, leaving the humming depths of the Cog City behind, preparing to step back into the lethal wilderness of the Skyrend Peaks, towards the echoes of the exiled Ashfang and the lingering threat of enemies both known and terrifyingly unknown. Their divergent paths had led Lunrik back to the surface, tasked with sowing chaos while Kaelith navigated secrets deep within the stone.