D’Angelo clung to Shadow’s thick fur as the wind tore past his face, his heart pounding—not from fear, but from exhilaration. The world around them blurred in streaks of green and gold as the wolves and Shadow ran at full sprint. What should have taken an hour, took only ten minutes.

  When they finally broke through a thicket of trees, the land ahead opened into a wide, tall grassy field. D’Angelo’s eyes widened in awe. There, in the middle of the field, casting a radiant golden light, were three shimmering portals arranged in a loose, imperfect circle. They pulsed gently, as if breathing, and the space around them was filled with floating motes of golden light—like fireflies caught in an eternal dance.

  From atop Shadow’s back, D’Angelo had the best view of the spectacle. His mouth hung slightly open as he took it all in.

  “What… what is that?” he whispered, though no one answered right away.

  The portals shimmered like liquid mirrors, their surfaces warping with impossible images—flashes of landscapes he couldn’t recognize, glimpses of alien skies, and echoes of distant roars. They didn’t just glow—they hummed, the sound faint but deeply resonant, like music in the bones.

  D’Angelo was stuck—frozen between awe and fear. He had seen strange things since meeting Jeremiah and Shadow, but nothing like this.

  D’Angelo slid off Shadow’s back as they came to a stop, still staring at the glowing rifts. The warm glow of the golden light mixed with hues of blue, gray, and green as the portals shimmered in place, casting dancing reflections on the surrounding tall grass.

  Lupo stepped forward, her silver-touched fur nearly sparkling under the riftlight. She turned to D’Angelo, her tone both calm and commanding.

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  “These three,” she said, motioning her head toward the glowing anomalies, “are our main rifts. We use them to hunt most of our food.”

  She first pointed her snout to the rift on the right. It shimmered in a golden and blue hue, and faint, thunderous footfalls echoed softly through it—like distant drumbeats.

  “This one leads to plains of bison. Strong prey. Good meat. Dangerous if you’re not fast,” she said with a flick of her tail.

  Then she turned to the rift on the left, this one with a golden and gray hue. It swirled slower, the air around it filled with faint clucks and flutters like a distant farm.

  “This one brings us to a land full of large wild birds—chickens, mostly. Not as glorious… but still a feast.”

  Finally, her eyes settled on the rift in the center. It pulsed with a golden green hue. The motes of light danced a little more wildly around it, like they knew something the others didn’t.

  “This one,” Lupo said, her voice dropping a note, “leads to a forest of giant boars. Fierce, clever, fast. They give the best chase.”

  She took a step back, her golden eyes locked onto D’Angelo’s.

  “Now, human child,” she said with a slight grin, “which one would you like us to hunt for the feast?”

  Ferris let out an irritated huff.

  The boy’s cheerfulness grated on his nerves. That naive grin, the way he treated everyone—everything—like it was a game. Even after Ferris had circled him like prey, even after his fangs had been bared, the pup hadn’t run or cowered. Instead, he’d chased after puppies, played games, laughed, and now? Now he marched into a rift like it was a walk through a sunny field.

  And that dog—Shadow. Ferris sneered. Obedient. Loyal. Blind. Always by the boy’s side, always tail-wagging and tongue-lolling. A protector, maybe, but to Ferris, he seemed more like a lapdog than a warrior. A wolf’s pride wouldn’t allow such mindless devotion.

  He glanced at the portal, its golden-green shimmer pulsing gently like a sleeping heartbeat. Ten minutes. Ten minutes since Lupo entered. Next the dog went in. And now the boy.

  Ferris took a step forward, about to follow—when the world shifted.

  The rift flared. Light exploded from it, pure and golden, washing over the tall grass and trees like the rising sun itself had burst through the seams of reality. A low, resonating chime followed—a sound too perfect to be natural. It rang through the sky, through the ground, through Ferris’s bones. The wolf staggered, eyes wide, the fur on his back standing straight up.

  Then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone.

  The light faded. The sound vanished. The rift pulsed again—soft and steady.

  Ferris stood in silence. Confused. Uneasy.

  This had never happened before.

  He growled low, not from anger but from something deeper—uncertainty.

  “What in the old stars…” he whispered, eyes locked on the portal.

  No one else had seen it. No one else had heard the chime. Only him.

  With a grunt of frustration, he steeled himself. Whatever just happened, the only way to understand it was to step through.

  “Stupid boy,” he muttered under his breath.

  And with that, Ferris leapt into the portal, vanishing into its golden light.