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I scanned the murals as we went, but it all seemed to be more of the same—pretty scenes of life back in whatever place the Great Wolves had come from.

There were more intimate scenes of wolves and humans cohabiting depicted in stylised shapes, or important events where humans wore rich robes and performed unknown rituals.

We walked down the stairs, dodging the broken steps, before finally arriving in a large area dominated by a huge cluster of crystals.

Sylvan stood before it, moving now in a series of dance steps as he sang, and the crystal was now glowing so bright, it was hard to look at.

“OK, we’re here,” Slade said, “So apart from serenading random geological formations, we’re doing what now?”

“Sing,” Sylvan hissed through the words of the song. We watched the light dim, then flare again. He waved his hand furiously when I didn’t start. Everyone turned to me, waiting to see what I would do.

Of course, it had to be me that was expected to sing a bloody song, in a language I didn’t understand, standing within an ancient ruin, in front of the most incredible cluster of iridescent crystal, shards spiking up in every direction.

I was starting to feel bad for chuckling at those people doing auditions for Australian Idol now, hearing my own voice warble in tone, my mouth struggling to make the right sounds.

But I must have done alright. While I wasn’t going to walk away with a recording contract, I was able to get the crystal to sing.

Louder and louder, higher and higher, the pure note sang over us, as we were a mere background distraction now.

The words came easier now, the meaning somehow coming to me as I sang in fits and starts.

It was part ode to the Great Wolves, part description of the wind in your fur and the land under your feet as you run.

Part description of the love a mother feels for her cubs, part burning passion that brings mates together and potentially tears them apart.

I no longer tripped over the words as we sang them faster and faster, the sound growing and growing until the light could no longer be contained.

I worked out all too late what the shape was for.

It was a conductor, it shot beams of light out through the room, hitting the stone walls and us.

I didn’t sing the words, they sang through me. Those and a million others, a massive torrent of information streaming through me as my mind struggled to keep up.

People were using the crystal to open a gateway, a panoramic view of the city I’d visited briefly winking into view as others came through it.

Locals came down at the exact time to greet them, with much dancing and singing as a result, and the crystal was shining like a beacon throughout.

More rituals, so many rituals, over and over.

People painting scenes on the walls to commemorate the different events.

People going through the gateway, in human or Tirian form, bringing food and goods, trading materials, long scrolls and important visitors.

A constant stream of people doing a million things at the gate, their individual actions blending into one whole. Then came the calamity.

The gate was opened by smiling locals, obviously expecting more of the same, and why wouldn’t they?

There were records everywhere of the continued good relationship.

Except this time when the gate opened, it did so on devastation.

For unknown reasons, smoke billowed from the tall buildings, now smashed as if by an errant child.

Chunks of stone were torn asunder, bodies strewn about the mosaic paths like discarded toys.

But not all. People staggered through the gate to the dismay of the locals, then they were rushing forward to assist when the shock wore off.

An impromptu field hospital was set up around the crystal, the faces of the injured were bleached white by the singing crystal, the red blood standing out all that more starkly for it.

And then he came.

For a moment, I thought the memory had come to an abrupt end as everyone went completely still, even the injured. They all watched from where they sat, lay, or stood as the Great Black Wolf padded through the gate.

He hadn’t escaped unscathed either, which put the whole catastrophe into perspective.

What the hell could hurt the god of the Tirian?

He limped through the portal, attendants at his side, dragging one of his rear paws behind him.

He didn’t stop until he was directly in front of the crystal cluster, sitting down on his haunches slowly and with difficulty.

The portal shimmered closed behind him. If he’d come through, the Great White Wolf hadn’t.

Perhaps that’s why his head was thrown back, a mournful howl coming from the depths of his chest, filling the building.

The crystals flared terribly bright, the main cluster and the ones worn by those who had accompanied him.

The howl still rang in my ears when reality returned, and perhaps that's why we were slow to detect the threat. And why would we? We’d just participated in some kind of 3D vision of the past in glorious Technicolour, not exactly the most guarded time.

I blinked as I heard the sound slowly fade away, but it was hearing it start up again that sent shivers up my spine.

“What the fuck was that?” Slade asked.

“We need to get out of here,” Brandon said, staring at the podium behind the cluster of crystals.

I shifted sideways and saw that somehow, we’d managed to open the goddamned portal to Wolflantis.

Just as it had in the vision, the crystal cluster still shone, singing to itself in a much more muted tone, low enough that we could hear the howl of other Tirians.

“I think I know what that black landscape we always see is,” I said, backing away from the cluster and edging towards the stairs, because all you could see through the portal was a large expanse of unrelieved deep charcoal grey within.

The water I’d always seen lapping at the edges was the sea not a lake, but this was not a landscape we could run freely on as a pack.

It remained torn and broken, and I could dimly make out the shapes against the slightly lighter sky, but it appeared some saw us much more clearly.

A long eerie howl filled the air, closer now.

“We need to close this and go. Sylvan, how do we close this?” Brandon asked.

“No!”

The Volken seer’s voice was almost as much a howl as our mysterious brethren, his face a mask of horror and grief.

I watched his eyes burn phosphorescent blue, shining with the weight of unshed tears, his face twisted in a rictus of agony.

He continued to sing, forcing out the words as if trying to create a different result.

The guys all moved to cluster around me, guns raised, eyes on the gateway. “We gotta go,” Hawk said. “Jules.”

“We need Sylvan,” I said, taking one of the steps.

“Fuck this,” he said with a shake of his head, and then strode towards the seer.

“Hawk!” Jack shouted as his mate grabbed Sylvan, slinging him over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold, then brought his rifle to his shoulder. As did everyone else, because in they came.

Could we still call them Tirian? They were definitely wolf-like, though that stream-lined form had become something twisted and mutated in whatever was left of the former city.

The flame like drifts most Tirian sported flickered and spiked in erratic fits and starts, and their eyes glowed a sickly green—the colour of putrescence.

“No, no…” Jack muttered as he ran over to the portal, gun pointed at the newcomers.

“Fucking hell, we don’t just rush in!” Aaron snapped. “Brandon, stay here with Jules and see if you can take them out. Clean shots through the skull if you can. Slade, Finn, back me up.”

“On it,” they replied.

I stood there, helplessly, watching those I loved approach something that looked like a gross distortion of what we were, and then heard the guns fire.

The beasts slunk closer, their lips curled back in angry snarls.

“No!” Sylvan said, recovering now. He thrashed within Hawk’s grip until the other man was forced to dump him on the ground.

“You’re coming if it takes all six of us to drag you!” Hawk said, giving him a shake, unaware of what was sneaking up behind him.

“Oh no, you fucking don’t,” Jack said, sending a spray of bullets into the stalking wolf.

Which should have been the end of it. The beast crumpled, its yelp piercing as blood bloomed on its flanks, but that of course, was not it.

The bloody thing pulled itself to its feet, shaking its body as it struggled to stay upright. Then everything got weird.

I’d always wondered why our fur was all wispy and smoke-like, and now I knew. The thing seemed to…shift somehow. Bullets clattered noisily on the stone floor and the wolf stood, whole again.

“What the fuck…?”

I ran down the stairs as the two beasts stalked my men, only a hand on my collar yanking me back, stopping me from blundering in.

“Jules, you need to stay safe,” Brandon hissed.

“No, we need to stay safe! The pack stays together!”

And they did, in a way. Jack just stood there, aghast, staring at the beast as it stalked closer. Its eyes flashed brighter for a second, then it attacked.

“Fuck!”

Jack’s voice rang out through the ruins as he was slammed onto his back, the wolf’s jaws slavering as it fought with all its might to rip out his throat.

I jerked free of Brandon’s grip and ran forward as I saw Jack’s arms shoot out, hands closing around the animal’s windpipe.

He held it off, but even I saw the effort it was costing him.

“Brandon, get her back!” Aaron snapped.

“Jack!”