There is a place where the veil that separates the realm of the gods and the world of mortals is thin.

Gods are a known aspect of the land, offering those who believe in them their saving grace. There are numerous gods, each attached to their own cultures - or, at least, there were. No longer do they answer the prayers of mortals, no longer do they visit their dreams. Now they are myths and beliefs, slumbering figures who some believe never existed in the first place. Stories, imagined constraints, dreamed up by ancestors desperate for something or someone to believe in.

Until now.

Wolves are drawn to this secret place. Protected from prying eyes by a sky-scraping mountain range and a tumultuous ocean that hides giants in its depths, this land draws wolves from around the world, plucking them from their homes. A wolf chases a rabbit into dense foliage, only to emerge in this land. Another leaps after a fish, only to plunge into the shallows of the ocean. Others simply awaken in the Black Forest, lost to their former pack and alone in this new world.

It draws them deeper.

The realm of the gods has an entrance. It draws these newcomers, funneling them between the mountains, the ocean ushering them forward. And as they draw closer, the guides awaken.