The Visitor at the Riverbank

Jax shifted his weight on four heavy legs, his thick beak tearing through a dense patch of fronds at the edge of the ancient fern forest. The afternoon heat hung heavy over the Cretaceous floodplain, thick with the scent of damp soil and blooming magnolias. Nearby, the river murmured steadily, its banks lined with giant conifers stretching toward a hazy, orange-tinted sky. It was a typical afternoon in Jax's world, until the sky above the tree canopy began to shimmer with an unnatural violet hue.

A hum, lower and smoother than the rumble of a gathering thunderstorm, echoed through the valley. Jax lifted his heavy, three-horned head, his dark eyes wide with cautious curiosity. Down through the swirling mist drifted a spherical craft made of seamless, reflective metal. It settled without a sound upon the damp carpet of moss, flattening the horsetails beneath its wide base.

A narrow hatch slid open with a soft hiss. Out stepped a creature unlike any Jax had ever encountered. It stood tall and slender, wrapped in a shimmering suit that reflected the surrounding forest like a mirror. A large, dome-like helmet concealed its face, but two glowing pale blue lenses tilted toward Jax.