Crack... crack... cracked.
The sound echoed through my confined world.
Where am I?
Is this how the afterlife looks? Total darkness that swallows everything whole.
Lonely, yet somehow filled with a warm sensation that embraces me.
Unable to open my pupils, I feel the strange presence of sticky fluid in which I'm floating.
Oh no! This sticky substance has filled my lungs. Then how am I even breathing?
Too many questions rain down on me, answered only by silence.
I give up struggling against whatever is happening. Maybe this is how the afterlife seems—a gentle prison of warmth and waiting.
---
Let me think about how I died.
Yes, I was on a study tour organized by my school. Unlike my classmates, who were busy with their selfie sticks, I was quietly enjoying my banana.
Yeah, you could say I'm a boring, socially inactive nerd.
Whatever. The beautiful scenery from the temple mountain top and the delicious banana in my mouth—I was enjoying life.
Everything was perfect until, out of nowhere, that rubbish monkey jumped onto my head and snatched my banana.
How could I tolerate a mere species lower on the evolution chain stealing my treasure?
After that...
Slap... slap... slap...
The sounds rang out as the monkey and I slapped each other.
How could I, a creature of supposedly higher intelligence, be defeated?
By sacrificing my swollen face, I managed to snatch back the banana.
I ate the whole banana right in front of him like a victorious general.
Maybe that monkey took the insult personally. It jumped and delivered a flying kick to my face.
And I flew through the air, falling from the mountain top, tumbling many times.
The last scene I saw was that monkey laughing, a sound very similar to my classmates.
Should I thank that monkey for freeing a helpless orphan from the cruel world?
Or curse him?
Crack... crack...
An annoying sound rings against my eardrums, disturbing my sleep.
The walls around me tremble with each sound.
Walls? No, not walls—something else. Something organic and curved, pressing against my body.
I try to move my arms, but they feel wrong—too short, ending in sharp points that scrape against the surface.
"What the hell?" I try to say, but what comes out is a high-pitched chirping growl.
Panic shoots through me.
I can't speak. I can't move properly.
Where are my hands? Where are my legs?
I thrash wildly, and whatever is containing me begins to give way.
CRACK!
What's happening? Am I not dead?
Am I trapped in some kind of chamber?
Light floods in.
This is warm, orange light that flickers and dances.
The air that rushes in carries the scent of sulfur and smoke.
I push harder against my prison, and suddenly I'm tumbling forward, wet and sticky, onto a surface of smooth stone.
My vision is blurry, but I can make out massive shapes moving in the flickering light.
"By the sacred flames," a voice rumbles above me. "Look at him, Emberheart. He's... different."
I blink rapidly, trying to clear my vision. When it finally focuses, I nearly faint again.
A creature the size of a small building looms over me.
This is unmistakably a Tyrannosaurus Rex, but unlike any I've seen. Its scales are deep crimson red, each one as large as my entire body.
Wait—is my body tiny, or is that thing gigantic?
The massive dinosaur has a head the size of a car with eyes like molten gold, nostrils that leak smoke, and teeth that glow with inner fire.
Flames occasionally flicker between its jaws as it breathes.
Despite its frightening appearance, it's looking at me with paternal concern.
"He's beautiful," another voice replies, gentler but equally massive.
Another T-Rex moves into view, smaller than the first but still enormous.
Her scales are brighter red with silver flame markings along her neck, and her amber eyes radiate warmth.
Small puffs of flame escape her nostrils as she speaks.
"Look at those little claws—similar to yours, Scorchclaw. But his coloring..."
I look down at myself and gasp.
I have claws. Small, sharp claws at the end of stubby arms.
My body is covered in tiny scales that gleam in the firelight, but they aren't the bright red of my... parents?
They're purple-red, a color that stands apart.
Wait. Are these fire-breathing T-Rex my parents?
"Purple mixed with red," the male T-Rex—Scorchclaw—muses, lowering his enormous head closer to me.
"I've never seen coloring like that in our bloodline. Is this the reason?"
"Husband, please refrain from speaking any ill words in front of our just-born infant. Accept him as a blessing from the Flame Spirits," Emberheart suggests, though I catch a note of worry in her voice.
"I understand, but what about the others? How will we explain this to them?" Scorchclaw responds, his voice carrying the weight of leadership.
"Just tell them our wyrmling was born with unique gifts," Emberheart replies firmly.
Wyrmling. The word resonates in my mind.
Baby dinosaur. That's what I am now. Somehow, impossibly, I've been reborn as a T-Rex hatchling—or more correctly, a fire-breathing T-Rex hatchling in a world where magic breathes alongside reality.
Then something gnaws at my stomach.
Hunger controls my tongue.
"Mama?"
The word slips out before I can stop it, high and sweet.
But I understand it, and more importantly, they understand it too.
Emberheart's eyes fill with joy, and small flames of happiness flicker around her snout.
"Yes, little one. I'm your mama."
She lowers her head and gently nuzzles me, careful not to burn me with the heat radiating from her nostrils.
Her scales are warm against my tiny body.
"And I'm your papa," Scorchclaw rumbles, though he keeps his distance.
"You gave us quite a scare, little wyrmling. You were in your shell much longer than your siblings."
---
Siblings?
I look around the cave—a massive cave lit by pools of lava and crystals that glow with inner fire.
The walls are smooth basalt, carved and shaped into comfortable living spaces.
Burn marks and claw scratches decorate the walls, clearly made by generations of T-Rex inhabitants.
This isn't just a natural cave formation—it's a home sculpted by time.
"Where..." I start to ask, but my new voice cracks. Speaking is harder than expected.
"You're in the Flame Forest of Pyrothia," my new mother replies, apparently understanding my incomplete question.
Emberheart explains patiently, settling down on the warm stone so her head is closer to my level.
"In the heart of our territory, where the sacred fires have burned for a thousand generations. This is your home, little one."
---
The Flame Forest. Pyrothia.
The names mean nothing to my human memories.
I try to stand on my four legs and immediately topple over.
My new body is completely different from my old human form—longer, lower to the ground, with a tail I keep forgetting is there and tiny arms that seem almost useless.
But my parents watch with encouraging rumbles as I struggle to coordinate my movements.
"Easy, little one," Emberheart croons. "All wyrmlings are clumsy at first. Even your papa fell on his snout when he hatched."
"I did not," Scorchclaw protests with the dignity of a creature who definitely had fallen on his snout as a baby.
A small puff of indignant smoke escapes his nostrils.
After several attempts, I manage to stay upright long enough to take a few wobbling steps.
The stone is warm beneath my claws, heated by the lava flows I can see glowing in channels carved along the cave walls.
The air shimmers with heat waves, but it feels perfectly comfortable against my scales.
"What should we call him?" Emberheart asks, watching me explore my immediate surroundings.
Scorchclaw considers this seriously, smoke trailing thoughtfully from his nostrils.
"He'll need a strong name. A name that acknowledges his unique nature while honoring our lineage."
He pauses, studying my purple-red scales thoughtfully.
"Rider Rex. For the way his colors seem to ride between flame and shadow, and Rex to honor our royal bloodline."
"Rider Rex," Emberheart repeats, testing the name. Small flames flicker with approval.
"Yes, I like that. It suits him."
Rider Rex.
My new name in my new life—a title that carries the weight of destiny.
I look up at my new parents—these massive, powerful T-Rex who have accepted me without question.
Scorchclaw stands tall and proud, every inch the mighty dinosaur leader, smoke constantly rising from his nostrils and small flames occasionally dancing between his teeth.
Emberheart radiates protective love, her warm scales glowing with inner fire.
Beyond them, I catch my first glimpse of the world outside our cave.
Through the entrance, I can see a landscape that belongs in fantasy novels: towering trees with leaves that glow, distant mountains that breathe smoke.
This is my new life.
My new world.
I am Rider Rex now.
As I settle down between my parents, exhaustion from hatching finally catches up to me, and I can't help but smile with my new dinosaur mouth.
Sure, I died embarrassingly on Earth, but if this is my reward for such a ridiculous death, I can live with it.
"Sleep now, Rider Rex," Emberheart whispers, her voice like a gentle lullaby.
Small wisps of warm smoke curl around me.
"Tomorrow, you'll meet the rest of our family."
As I drift off to sleep, curled up in the warmth of the sacred flames and my parents' love, I can't wait to see what adventures await me in this incredible new world where dinosaurs breathe fire and rule territories.