The Signatum Laboratorium was silent, save for the faint hum of dormant machinery and the whisper of temporal currents snaking through the sealed chamber. Its walls, forged of dark alloy veined with faint sapphire lines, seemed to absorb sound rather than reflect it. Rows of shelves pressed against the far sides, holding vials of shimmering liquids, etched tablets, and boxes of peculiar artifacts. At one of the many tables, chaos was arranged with purpose: books with weathered spines, half-assembled instruments, peculiar glass-like containers filled with glowing hues of red, gold, and cerulean.
Zyren stood over the clutter like a predator over a dissected carcass, leaning forward, silver hair spilling over his scarlet ember eyes as he skimmed a tome one final time. The easy smirk he wore in public was gone. His jaw was set, expression sharpened into focus: every inch the hunter stripped of disguise.
With unhurried precision, he closed the tome and pushed it aside. His long fingers reached for the Inaris crystal. The azure glow pulsed faintly within its core, as though it had a heartbeat of its own. Holding it up against the dim light, Zyren studied it for a long moment, then exhaled slowly, as though the ritual had begun.
He cleared a space on the table, sweeping aside tools until only a single metal plate remained. The crystal was placed at its center. Then came the instruments: a thin needle-like probe etched with runes, a containment vial filled with Selara's stored temporal energy, a shard of Elyssar's emerald green resonance sealed in another. Each item was arranged with surgical exactness.
Zyren pressed his palm to the crystal. Scarlet energy bled from his skin like smoke, seeping into the azure glow. The crystal responded with a flicker, then a hum, almost defensive. His eyes narrowed, the hunter's instincts wide awake.
He pulled his hand back and, with his free one, flipped open a weathered journal. The pages bore tight, angled handwriting, each entry reduced to fragments. He grabbed a long, slender crystalline object and began to write:
"Reaction to my scarlet temporal energy: unstable resistance. Brief flare of black trace, lasting less than a heartbeat. Unclear origin."
He set the 'pen' down, returning to the experimentation. The vial of Selara's energy was uncorked, and a thread of pale golden light spilled toward the crystal. The response was different this time, the azure within warped, splitting into veins of fractured light before knitting itself back together. His pen scratched again:
"Selara's golden current: resonance fractured, then restored. Self-repair evident. Not natural. Too adaptive."
A pause. He tapped the pen against the page, expression flat but eyes sharp. For an instant, the faintest curl of his lips hinted at a grin. The next test followed. He drew the emerald shard close. The crystal's glow dimmed, as though wary, before a low thrum pulsed through the lab. The sound resonated in his bones, primal and predatory, echoing like a growl too low for human throats.
"Predatory resonance. Recognition? Howl against Elyssar's energy. Threat response confirmed."
The pattern repeated: precise instruments, deliberate injections of energy, careful note-taking. Each step felt calculated, controlled, patient, almost reverent. After about five hours, the chamber itself seemed to lean into the silence, as though holding its breath with him.
When at last he pulled his hand away, Zyren closed the journal. A scarlet sigil bloomed across its cover, sealing it shut with a hiss. He rested the Inaris crystal back in its container and pressed his fingers lightly against the lid.
The mask returned slowly, the faint curve of a grin cutting across his sharp features. His eyes, however, still burned with that predatory glint. "Not yet," he murmured to the empty lab, voice low, edged with amusement. "But soon." The crystal's faint glow pulsed once in answer, as though it had heard him.
Meanwhile, on another segment of the Primarium Castrum, the workshop of Lorith was a cavern of organized chaos. Brass gears, half-finished devices, and scattered fragments of crystalline constructs covered nearly every surface. The air carried the faint tang of ozone and dust, mixed with the sharp mineral scent that seemed to radiate from Lorith himself. At the center of it all, his workbench stretched wide and cluttered, a storm of blueprints and papers spilling over its edges.
The hulking crystal giant sat hunched in his enormous chair, shoulders hunched forward as though trying to cage his thoughts closer. In his massive hand, a pen-shaped crystal etched glowing lines across the parchment. Every stroke was firm, deliberate , sometimes halting mid-curve as he muttered under his breath, then scratching out entire paragraphs with a grunt of irritation. At times his hand moved too quickly, racing ahead of his own voice; at others, he slammed the pen down in dismissal, shoving one blueprint aside only to drag another closer.
"Too unstable... no, damn it, that fails at scale... what if the array buckles....no, no, worse, the feedback loop would..." His gravelly voice rumbled like boulders grinding together. His stone-carved face, usually unreadable, showed flickers of thought, a narrowing of his jagged crystalline brow, a faint tightening of his jaw when a calculation faltered, a rare glimmer of satisfaction when a line clicked into place.
He was so deep in the storm of his work that the shift in the room almost went unnoticed. A faint ripple in the air: presence brushing against his senses. He stilled, pen hovering above parchment. Slowly, he set it down with a resonant clink and leaned back into his massive chair. The structure groaned under his bulk as he turned, shards of light rippling faintly along his crystalline skin. His glowing white eyes flicked to the workshop's entrance.
There stood Selara, composed as ever, her black hair cascading like a shadow, amber eyes steady and unreadable. She was calm and deliberate, the sort of calm that Lorith always found respectable. His eyes narrowed, and his rough, gravel-tinged voice broke the silence.
"You should probably spit out whatever you came here to say and leave me in peace," he grumbled, the edge of sarcasm threading through his tone. One jagged corner of his crystalline mouth quirked up, almost a smirk, though his ember eyes stayed sharp. "I'm not exactly in the mood for chatting."
Selara stepped into the workshop's glow, her amber eyes steady, her presence like a sharpened blade cloaked in calm. The low hum of Lorith's scattered devices filled the silence between them, but she spoke without hesitation, her voice measured and unwavering.
"The next Leviathan breach," she said softly, almost like she was stating a fact rather than a prediction, "is when we shall have to enact the next step of our plan." Lorith leaned forward in his massive chair, the crystalline joints of his body creaking with the movement. His stone-hewn face hardened, ember-like eyes narrowing into a smoldering scowl.
"Don't you think that this is a bit too soon?" he rumbled, his voice thick with gravel and warning. "I believed we still had time...good amount of it, no less. Rush it, and you'll find yourself knee-deep in unwanted trouble." He held her gaze, unblinking. His ember eyes, fierce and unyielding, locked onto Selara's amber ones, searching for the slightest crack in her resolve. Selara, however, remained unmoved. She stood straight, her expression calm yet resolute, her gaze steady as still water against fire. The silence stretched between them like a drawn bowstring, taut and waiting.
At last, the giant's posture shifted. His shoulders sank with the weight of a sigh, and his eyes flicked downward. The faintest fracture of weariness crossed his crystalline features as he muttered, "I've no wish to insult your leadership, Selara. But if we proceed too fast and without proper precautions, the damage we face may be..... irreparable."
Selara didn't flinch. Her voice, calm but iron-laced, cut through the tension like the edge of her spear. "After all that we have endured, I am certain we can handle it." For a long moment, Lorith studied her, measuring her conviction, weighing the strength behind her words. Then, with a slow inhale, he straightened, the glow within his chest deepening as he spoke with heavy finality.
"Very well..." He paused, his deep voice carrying a rumble that lingered in the air. His ember eyes narrowed, sharp with equal parts respect and warning. "...But Selara...." he leaned in slightly, his tone low, deliberate, "for your own sake, when the time comes, I hope your instincts remain as sharp as your HEX."