The Ossuary became a slaughterhouse of magic and muscle.
Ethan, pinned beneath the massive, mutated bulk of Ryan Evans, felt his ribs groaning under the pressure. The beast was heavy—unnaturally so, anchored by the dark gravity of the Heart-Stone pulsing in its chest. Ryan’s jaws snapped inches from Ethan’s face, saliva sizzling where it hit the floor, acidic and foul.
"Get off him!" Volkov roared.
The Lycan Warlord hit Ryan from the side like a wrecking ball. Volkov didn't use weapons; he was a weapon. His claws, long and jagged as scythes, raked down Ryan’s flank, carving deep furrows through the grey fur and black scales.
Ryan howled, the sound a distorted shriek of metal tearing. He was knocked sideways, rolling off Ethan.
Ethan scrambled up, shifting back to human form in a blur
