You are in the coastal shorelines of South America, 112 million years ago.

The humid air of the Cretaceous Brazilian coast hung heavy as you crouched behind a weathered limestone boulder, watching the shallow lagoon. A flash of sunlight on water snapped your attention forward—a Cearadactylus had just breached.

The creature was magnificent and terrifying, with a wingspan stretching nearly 18 feet. It didn't just soar; it skimmed, its spatula-shaped, tooth-lined jaw breaking the surface of the water, catching a silvery fish with effortless precision. The clicking of its beak was audible over the crashing waves.

Suddenly, it snapped its head in your direction, those large, intelligent eyes locking onto me. Recognizing an intruder, the Cearadactylus let out a sharp, harsh hiss, taking flight with a powerful downstroke of its leathery, dark wings. The sheer speed of its ascent was breathtaking, a mix of albatross-like soaring and agile flapping.