The control Samuel exerted in his full wolf form was magnificent and terrifying. He stood massive and motionless in the belfry of Ikeazor Hall, the scent of the unchained beast clashing violently with the cold, minty air of the vampire. He hadn't just saved Tunde; he had demonstrated a level of mastery over the Change that shouldn't be possible.
Fortune's smug confidence crumbled, replaced by naked frustration and raw venom.
"You are a paradox, wolf! The Silver Bloom stabilizes the Stone, but nothing should anchor the raw beast!" Fortune shrieked, finally understanding the depth of Samuel and Esther's bond.
Samuel, the wolf, let out a silent snarl—a psychic wave of intent that conveyed absolute danger. He took a single, deliberate step toward the vampire.
Fortune, fueled by injured ego and primal rage, lunged. He was faster than a human, but Samuel was faster than any wolf Fortune had ever encountered. The air crackled as the two ancient foes collided.
It wasn't a fight of strategy; it was a devastating impact of sheer power. Samuel didn't bite or claw; he used his enormous, dense body as a weapon. He slammed Fortune against the heavy copper bell, the sound echoing across the dark campus.
Fortune rebounded instantly, his pale face twisted into a mask of pure hatred. He generated a shield of frigid, shadowy energy the signature of the Shadow.
"You may have the Casket, wolf, but I command the void!" Fortune roared, unleashing a wave of shadowy tendrils aimed at ensnaring the wolf.
Samuel met the attack head-on. The icy tendrils wrapped around his massive forelegs, but the heat of his fully-shifted body was immense. He didn't break the shadow; he burned it. The tendrils hissed and dissolved into smoke, leaving scorched fur where they touched.
Samuel was fighting with the full, unbridled power of his primal nature, but his mind was clear, focused on Esther, on the Golden Leaf, on the New Pact. He was a beacon of controlled fury.
He launched himself at Fortune one last time, pinning the vampire against the stone wall. Fortune clawed desperately at the wolf's throat, but Samuel's coat was thick, his resolve unbreakable.
"I am the Balance!" Samuel conveyed psychically, the weight of his voice a physical pressure. He did not kill Fortune, but he inflicted a devastating punishment.
He bit down, not on Fortune's flesh, but on the stone wall beside his head, the sound of crushing granite a terrifying punctuation. He lifted his massive, blood-flecked muzzle, sending a warning—a final, absolute decree.
Fortune, broken, defeated, and terrified, slumped, his powerful vampire form temporarily shattered by the realization that he could not conquer the wolf's anchored savagery.
Samuel released him, stepped back, and turned his massive frame toward Tunde. The fight was over.