Footprints of the Dreamtime Beasts

The first thing Josh noticed was the smell.

Even before the plane’s wheels kissed the dirt airstrip, the dry heat curled through the cabin vents. It smelled like sunbaked iron, eucalyptus, and the kind of old sorrow that lingered in places where the ground remembered what was taken.

He hated flying. Pressurized cabins made his ears ring worse than usual, and the recycled air stripped scent from the world. But once the hatch opened and he stepped into the red dust of the outback, it all came flooding back. He crouched, pressed his hand to the earth, and breathed deep.

“God, I missed real air,” he muttered.

“Good to be back in the bush, bloodhound?” Amara asked, squinting at the horizon as she slung her rifle case over one shoulder. Her braid was already sticking to the back of her neck in the midday heat.

Josh straightened, his ears flicking. “Three flights later, and we’re finally here.”

“Welcome to Doomadgee,” Reiko said, tapping her tablet. “Population eight hundred. Officially no gate activity within a hundred k’s. But someone flagged the death as mana-linked. Now it’s our mess.”

Leo, standing a few steps off, didn’t say a word. His eyes were on the trees in the distance, the shimmer of heat on the road. Josh caught the subtle shift in his posture — quiet alertness, like an old soldier sensing something just out of sight.

They were met at the airstrip by Sergeant Narelle Quinlan, a local Aboriginal liaison officer with the Queensland Police. She wore mirrored aviators, dust-covered boots, and a look that said she had no time for bullshit.

“You lot are the Atlassian crew?” she asked. “Team 7?”

“That’s us,” Reiko said smoothly.

“Good. Hop in. I’ll bring you to the site.”

The Land Cruiser kicked up red dust as it rumbled down the worn track into town. Doomadgee wasn’t much — clusters of low buildings, scattered solar panels, rusted fences, and the wide, open sky pressing down on it all. Josh rested his arm out the window and took it in, ears twitching at every new sound. There was something in the land here. Something old.

“The dead man,” Reiko asked, “what do we know?”

“White fella. Name was Zack Hooper. Twenty-four. Was staying out at the exploratory dig site, couple k’s east. Found dead two nights ago on the edge of sacred land — body half-petrified, aura scrambled. Locals think the Dreaming punished him. Miners think it was the locals.”

Josh winced. “So tensions are high.”

Quinlan scoffed. “They were already high. This just gave both sides something to scream about. I’ve got a missing teen from the community, an elder asking for spirit-walkers, and a mining supervisor threatening legal action. So yeah. You lot better figure out fast if this is mana-related. Because if not, we’re one misstep away from this escalating.”

They arrived at the crime scene by early afternoon. It was marked off with standard police tape — more symbolic than secure — and sat on the boundary between scrub bush and rocky escarpment. A tall carved stone jutted from the earth nearby, marked with weather-worn engravings and faded ochre paint.

Josh crouched next to the dried bloodstain where the body had been found, nostrils flaring.

“Scorched meat,” he muttered. “Charred bone. But there’s something else. A trace of ozone, and… copper. Like old pennies and lightning.”

Reiko knelt beside him, her tablet pinging softly. “You’re not imagining it. Low-grade mana flash, here and here—” she pointed to fractured lines in the rock, “—but no stable portal. More like… a flicker. Someone opened something they couldn’t hold.”

Leo knelt and touched the dirt. His hand hovered just above the surface.

“This wasn’t meant to open here,” he said quietly. “The land pushed it back. Whatever slipped through didn’t belong.”

Amara scanned the treeline through her scope. “You think we’ve got a rogue opening gates in sacred sites?”

“Or something older,” Reiko said. “There are rifts the system doesn’t catch — natural ones, or intentional breaches masked with local energies. Either way, this wasn’t just a murder.”

They visited the Doomadgee community before sunset. The moment they entered, Josh felt the shift — not just the wary eyes, but the rhythm of the place. It breathed differently. Quiet, watchful. Reverent.

They were brought to the elders’ meeting circle, where they removed their boots and stood barefoot on the red earth.

Elder Munarra greeted them with measured stillness. She was thin, wiry, her greying hair plaited tight down her back. Her eyes locked on Josh the moment he entered.

“You are not like the others.”

Josh inclined his head. “No, ma’am.”

“You carry a spirit that isn’t yours. And it listens.”

He said nothing. She stepped forward, touched his furred cheek with two fingers, and then motioned for them to sit.

“The boy who died,” she said, “came here three nights before the murder. He snuck into a dreaming site. Carved stone. He brought another boy — a cousin of mine. That cousin is missing now.”

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“Do you believe the death was… spiritual?” Reiko asked.

“I believe the land remembers. And when stories are stolen, the land reclaims what it is owed.”

Josh shifted. “What kind of story would kill a man?”

“The kind that isn’t a story anymore,” Munarra said. “The kind that walks.”

She reached beside her and brought out an old bark painting — swirling forms in ochre and white. A being with too many eyes. Long limbs. Smoke drifting from its mouth.

“This spirit was once only seen in visions. But last night, someone saw it standing at the treeline. Not in dreaming. In waking. It looked back.”

They left the meeting in silence.

That night, Josh sat on the outskirts of the camp, staring up at the stars. Out here, there was nothing between you and the cosmos. No light pollution. No highrises. Just infinity.

“You smell something?”

Josh turned, ears twitching. The boy standing behind him was maybe sixteen. Tall, lean. Shirtless. A wooden hunting spear in one hand and a cheeky grin on his face.

“I might,” Josh said. “You must be Waru.”

The boy nodded. “Elder said you were tracking. Thought you might need a second nose.”

“You see the lights too?”

“Yeah.” He looked toward the trees. “But I think they saw me back.”

Josh smiled. “You want to show me?”

Waru grinned. “Yeah. But we go quiet. The bush listens.”

***

The bush swallowed them quickly. No streetlights, no signage. Just scrub, dirt, and the sound of cicadas pulsing like a heartbeat in the dark.

Josh kept close behind Waru, letting the teenager lead. Waru’s movements were effortless — barefoot on sharp rocks, silent on broken twigs. Josh’s hybrid senses helped, but even so, he was aware of how much louder he was. The kid moved like a ghost.

“You always go out this late?” Josh whispered.

“Only when something’s watching.”

They came to a clearing with a ring of white ash around a low, flat stone. A small pile of eucalyptus leaves sat in the center, partially charred. Josh crouched and sniffed.

“Fresh burn. Less than a day old,” he muttered. “Mixed oils, too—someone did a cleansing ritual here. Maybe to ward something off.”

Waru stood at the edge of the circle. “My cousin came here the day before he vanished. He said he’d seen a light walking through the trees. Said it hummed like bees.”

“Did anyone else hear it?”

Waru hesitated. “Old man Dalu. He won’t say it outright, but I heard him singing protection songs under his breath. The kind they used to sing when the gates started coming through.”

Josh’s ears twitched. “You’ve had portals out here before?”

Waru nodded. “Not ones the government tracks. But yeah. Little rips. Things step through. Mostly they die. But not always.”

Josh rose, brushing off his knees. “Do you smell that?”

Waru inhaled. “Rust.”

“No.” Josh turned slowly, eyes narrowing. “Mana. Burnt mana. Something opened nearby.”

Just then, the clearing pulsed faintly — not with light, but with pressure. The kind that made your bones ache and your gut flip.

Josh grabbed Waru’s arm. “Back. Now.”

But before they could retreat, something flickered at the edge of the clearing. A tall figure — too tall — standing between two trees. It shimmered like heat haze, then vanished the moment they blinked.

Josh didn’t chase. He just stood, chest heaving, heart pounding hard in his ribs.

Waru finally exhaled. “Was that it?”

“I don’t know,” Josh said. “But it was watching.”

***

The next morning, Team 7 gathered at the field office — a converted council building where Reiko had set up a temporary command station. Maps and mana-readings were spread across two folding tables. The room smelled like instant coffee and cheap printer toner.

“Waru confirmed his cousin came into contact with the victim the day before his death,” Josh reported. “They were in the bush near a ceremonial stone — one I think has a dormant rift.”

“Define dormant,” Reiko said.

“Closed now, but something opened it. Either someone with the ability to manipulate portals, or an artifact that’s leaking energy. The mana trace is faint but not gone.”

Leo crossed his arms. “So this wasn’t a random gate fluctuation.”

“No,” Josh said. “And the more I think about it, the more it feels like the murder wasn’t the goal. It was a side effect. Like someone tripped something they didn’t understand.”

Amara pointed at the map. “What’s here?”

Josh leaned in. “Old mining site. Shut down six years ago. But Zack Hooper had a drone survey license. He was running scans for a private company — probably poking where he shouldn’t have.”

Reiko tapped a key on her tablet, pulling up a blurry thermal image. “Mana surge recorded four days ago, matching the one Josh detected last night. The source seems to be coming from the ground beneath that mining site.”

“Subterranean portal?” Leo asked.

“Or a buried artifact,” Reiko replied. “Either way, it’s leaking.”

Josh ran a hand down his face. “We need to talk to the other miners. Someone else out there knows more than they’re saying.”

***

They found two of the dig team — Lisa Gant and Brent Holloway — back at their encampment. Both were jumpy, clearly spooked, and had zero interest in talking until Reiko flashed her badge and reminded them that Atlassian operated above standard clearance.

“I told Zack he shouldn’t mess with the old caves,” Lisa said. She was wiry, sunburnt, and had a tangle of bright beads around her neck. “He was obsessed with the carvings. Thought he’d found proof of ‘pre-gate civilizations.’ Called it his ‘career-maker.’”

Josh frowned. “Pre-gate?”

“People who knew how to use rifts before they started showing up in public. Indigenous, maybe. Or something else. Zack didn’t care who it belonged to, just that he could stake a claim.”

“And where exactly are these carvings?” Reiko asked.

Lisa pointed with a shaking hand. “The cave system under Site B. The one they sealed after the accident.”

Brent spoke up finally. “Three weeks ago, Zack came back from that cave pale and sweating. He wouldn’t say what he saw, but he smashed his drone, burned half his notes, and started sleeping with his field generator running all night.”

Team 7 exchanged glances, something was definitely happening at the site.

***

That night, Team 7 suited up and approached the abandoned cave site with caution. It took an hour to reach it on foot — scrub giving way to dry rock and old machine scars. The moon cast a dull silver glow over the land.

Josh led the descent, sniffing carefully with each step.

“Something’s wrong,” he whispered. “The smell—it's off. Like… old air, but warped. Dead things that haven’t died yet.”

At the bottom of the slope, they found it: a partially collapsed tunnel, with hand-carved symbols etched into the wall. But these weren’t traditional Aboriginal designs. These were different — arcane geometry, fused with native motifs. Reiko knelt beside them, scanning.

“This is… a hybrid script. Mana-infused, definitely premodern. But it shouldn’t be here.”

Josh turned slowly. “And yet it is.”

From behind them, the wind shifted — though there was no breeze in the cave.

Leo muttered, “Brace.”

And then something screamed.

It wasn’t human. It wasn’t even entirely sound. It hit like a pressure wave through their skulls, making Josh stagger. The wall at the rear of the cave shimmered, and for just a moment, they saw something massive pressing against it — from the other side.

A being of stone and fire, bound by glyphs etched in blood.

And then it vanished.

Josh breathed out slowly. “That wasn’t a dreamtime spirit.”

“No,” Reiko said, standing. “That was a prison.”

Leo raised his weapon. “Then the question is—who’s trying to open it?”