Chapter Sixty:
The stone vault beneath the Golden Empire had transformed into a scene of primal carnage. The air was a thick, choking soup of iron-scented blood and the dry, musty smell of ancient dust kicked up by the struggle. Amelia, Magnus, and the elite werewolf warriors had formed a tight, desperate defensive circle. They were the last bastions of life in a room filled with the walking dead. Having already shifted into their massive, hulking werewolf forms, they were walls of matted fur and corded muscle, their claws swiping through the air in great silver arcs to intercept the relentless swarm of vampires.
