You are in the shallow seas of Australia, 115 million years ago.

Your lungs were screaming for air, a sharp contrast to the biting cold of the water around you. You tucked your flippers of your diving gear in, diving deeper into the dim, murky light of the inland sea. Above, ice rafts floated in the winter sky, but down here, there was only the strange, quiet pressure of the deep.

Then, you saw it. It was small, no larger than a seal, moving with an eerie, elegant grace through the shadows. An Umoonasaurus.

It wasn’t like the massive Kronosaurus that hunted the surface waters. This one was slender, with a long, flexible neck designed for stealth. But it was the head that caught your attention. Even from five meters away, the tiny bony crests above its eyes were visible, ridges that seemed to curve slightly downward over its nostrils. It looked almost ornate, like a creature wearing a prehistoric crown.

The creature halted, its dark, intelligent eye fixing on you. It didn’t look predatory, only curious. Its neck arched smoothly, the small head tilting. It was a perfectly preserved, living jewel of the Cretaceous, swimming through a water world that would one day turn to stone and opals.