The tension in the Ogwumagala Caves was thick enough to taste—a blend of mineral dust, damp earth, and the cold, predatory threat of Fortune. Samuel stood ready to spring, the quarry chisel now gripped in his hand, while Esther stood between the two ancient enemies, dictating the terms of their forced truce.
"We need a piece large enough to encapsulate the entire Folium Aethel," Esther instructed, referencing Madam Chinwe's diagram in the diary. "The crystal must be shaped into a five-sided pyramid, a 'Casket,' to align with the five petals of the Bloom."
Samuel, recognizing the immediate necessity, moved to the crystalline cluster.
He ignored Fortune, focusing his immense, controlled strength on the chisel. The crystal was incredibly hard, but with each powerful, precise strike, Samuel carved deep grooves into the massive formation. The sound of metal on crystal echoed deafeningly through the cavern.
Fortune watched, his pale eyes tracking Samuel's every muscle flex, searching for a sign of deceit or weakness. He kept his injured hand tightly pressed to his side, betraying a pain deeper than he let on.
After several agonizing minutes, Samuel finally managed to break off a large, perfect chunk of the crystal. He carried the heavy mineral back to Esther.
"Now what?" he grunted, sweat pouring down his temples.
Esther opened the diary to a page showing a schematic of the refining process. "The crystal must be refined and smoothed using a continuous high-heat source—a forge.
Madam Chinwe noted that the only energy source capable of heating the crystal without degrading its magical properties is the wolf's own natural heat."
Samuel's eyes widened in realization. "The fever of the Change."
"Yes," Esther confirmed. "You need to induce the fever without completing the Change. You must channel the pure, controlled heat of the early transformation into the crystal, melting the mineral's surface just enough to be shaped."
This was a terrifying ask. Channeling the Change was like holding back a raging flood with bare hands.
"I can do this," Samuel said, his voice low and firm. He placed the large crystal chunk on a flat, cold slab of rock.
Fortune sneered. "A dangerous parlor trick, wolf. If you fail, the beast takes you, and I will simply step over your corpse to claim the city."
Samuel ignored him. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, channeling the raw, untamed energy of the Nkpume Ọdịnala—the Foundation Stone—that was vibrating through the earth beneath them. The amber light flared violently in his eyes.
His muscles began to twitch and bulge, and the fabric of his shirt stretched taut. A tremendous, dry heat radiated off his skin, turning the cool air around him into a suffocating oven. His hands, placed carefully on the raw crystal, began to steam.
Esther placed her hands carefully over his. The silver bloom, though inert, seemed to absorb some of the residual heat.
"Focus, Samuel," Esther urged, maintaining the connection. "The Casket is for freedom. For our choice."
Under the combined focus of the wolf's forced fever and the Keeper's steady presence, the rough edges of the crystal began to soften, smoothing and rounding into the prescribed five-sided pyramidal shape.