The chamber had become a waking nightmare - a seething, visceral abattoir where the sacred laws of nature and order held no sway. Diane found herself pinned against the unyielding stone, heart thundering in her ears as she watched her few remaining packmates being steadily overwhelmed by the relentless tide of profane, mutating flesh.

Razor talons and serrated blades lashed out in defiant arcs, scoring deep furrows through the undulating biomass only to have them seal over in seconds. For every abomination rended unto shredded offal, a dozen more pulsing, malformed horrors would extrude forth from the sluicing morass.

It was a battle that could not be won, Diane realized...