Rex dove through the entrance of his cave, leaving behind the familiar safety of stone and shadows. The water outside was cold and vast, stretching into the blue-black depths. As he kicked forward, he spotted a violent rush of water thundering beneath his feet, the shifting mass rippling like a river in the ocean.
He angled downward and swam toward it. A flash of bright blue paint on a rock far below caught his eye—his marker.
The north-to-south current.
A thrill ran through him.
He had watched currents like this from afar for years, knowing full well that the old Rex—the weak Rex—would have been shattered into bone fragments if he ever touched them. Only people with expensive reinforced vehicles used to ride these monsters. But now?
Now he was something entirely different.
Rex plunged into the torrent.
The water grabbed him instantly, jerking him forward at terrifying, bone-rattling speed. The current was stronger than anything pre-calamity Earth had ever known—a force of nature reborn and enraged. But Rex whooped and hollered as he shot through the water, exhilarated by the chaos. He twisted and rolled, letting the current sling him along like a comet.
Then the current split.
Rex's cheer died.
Ahead, the water forked into two paths—one arcing upward toward faint light, the other plunging straight down into a yawning ravine.
He reached out, trying to steer himself, but it was too late.
The downward current swallowed him whole.
He was dragged violently into crushing darkness. The pressure was monstrous. Even with his amplified eyes, everything dissolved into black except vague shapes sliding in the void. His stomach lurched as the current slammed him through a narrow throat of stone before ejecting him into an enormous, silent valley buried in the deep.
The water here felt thick. Heavy. Wrong.
His serpent tattoo heated on his chest—a warning. Something else was down here. Multiple somethings.
Rex froze, listening.
The pressure shifted violently as if an enormous creature had just displaced the water nearby. A low, echoing click vibrated through the valley. Then a groan—long and resonant. Something scraped against stone, far too large to be anything he'd ever scavenged from.
The fish-tattoo dagger beneath his forearm pulsed like a heartbeat, urging him to summon it. Rex resisted. Drawing a weapon in absolute darkness could reveal his position more than help him.
Blue bioluminescent trails flickered along the canyon ridges, spiraling around him like warning signs painted by nature itself. They twisted and wove, marking territory.
Then—silently, impossibly—
a massive shadow peeled itself away from the canyon wall.
It was gliding toward him.
Slow. Purposeful. Aware.
Rex's breath hitched as he realized:
It wasn't the only one moving.
It was simply the first.