A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

I woke to the sound of laughter—faint, easy, like the world was in on a joke I'd missed. The ache in my head had dulled to a background hum, but there was still a ghost of Destruction's punch ringing behind my eyes. My body tensed as I shot upright, heart racing.

Canvas fluttered overhead.

Wait... where the heck am I?

The air was warm. Smoky. I was on a cot—one of those collapsible camping types that creaked if you breathed too hard. My backpack sat beside it, buckled and tucked neatly like someone had made sure it didn't wander off. Not a scratch on it.

Then I felt it—something smooth and solid clutched in my hand.

I looked down.

Clear as glass. Cold as memory. And unmistakably not something you'd find in your average camping trip.

The fragment.

Its shape caught the flicker of the tent's hanging lantern, refracting the light like some kind of crystallized paradox. I stared at it for a second too long before the urgency punched through the awe.

Second space-time fragment. I've got two now.

My fingers curled tighter around it instinctively.

I shoved it deep into my bag, layering it beneath spare clothes and snack wrappers like that would somehow stop cosmic forces from sniffing it out. Probably useless. Still made me feel better.

"Where's everyone?" I muttered.

A muffled chorus of voices drifted in from beyond the tent's flap—low and crackling with laughter. I pushed myself up, boots crunching softly against the fabric flooring, and stepped outside.

What greeted me was... not what I expected.

They were gathered around a massive bonfire—logs and jagged stones fashioned into an impromptu seating circle. The flames snapped and danced, casting golden light over familiar faces. But it wasn't the campfire that stunned me.

It was the skewers.

Everyone—and I mean everyone—was roasting marshmallows. Glowing, puffed-up, pinkish blobs slowly turning golden over the fire. In their other hands, mugs. I caught the unmistakable scent of something rich, sweet, and undeniably alcoholic wafting in the air.

Were they having a... wine and marshmallow night?

I blinked.

"What are you all doing?" I asked, voice somewhere between disbelief and betrayal.

All heads turned. Like I'd just walked in on a secret cult ritual mid-toast.

Jiuge froze mid-sip, marshmallow halfway to her mouth. "H-Hey... Carl! You're awake! You, uh, feelin' okay?" She smiled too wide, like she was caught sneaking snacks before dinner.

I squinted at her, suspicious. Her smile twitched. She looked one step away from blurting out something incriminating.

Then I spotted Heim.

His face was red. His posture—slumped but trying very hard not to be slumped. And his eyes... glossy and unfocused like a puppy trying to look serious. He noticed me noticing him.

In the blink of an eye, Heim teleported—yes, literally teleported—to my side, causing me to flinch.

He reeked of campfire smoke, fermented grapes, and sugary fluff.

"You..." he slurred, pointing somewhere near my ear. "I will give you... twenty percent of my trust."

Then, satisfied with his generous offering, he blinked away again—reappearing beside Agnos like he'd just completed a very important diplomatic mission.

He turned to Agnos with a crooked grin. "Brother. I did well, right?" Then promptly collapsed against him, snoring like a seal in a hammock.

I stared.

"Is Heim drunk?" I asked, still trying to process what just happened. "How much did he drink?"

Agnos sighed as Heim's head threatened to slide down his shoulder. He nudged it off like one would a clingy cat. "Just a sip."

"Seriously?"

Agnos nodded with all the enthusiasm of someone babysitting a live grenade.

"His tolerance is... impressively tragic," Jiuge offered, popping a toasted marshmallow into her mouth and avoiding eye contact.

I rubbed my temple. Cosmic fragments, memory realms, and now lightweight gods on a sugar bender. Mythica was a circus and I was the reluctant ringmaster.

Then it hit me—where the heck did they even get the wine?

I scanned the clearing. No barrels, no crates, no fancy goblets clinking under moonlight. Just skewers, mugs, and a suspiciously festive vibe.

The moment I realized my mouth was dry, the thirst hit like a curse. My tongue scraped the roof of my mouth, and suddenly, a sip of whatever they were sipping sounded less like a luxury and more like a medical necessity.

A warm drink sounded perfect right about now. Sweet, velvety, maybe a little reckless.

I licked my lips, halfway to asking for a mug when something… shifted.

It wasn't a sound. It was the lack of it.

The laughter earlier had stopped. Like someone hit mute. Everyone avoided my gaze. They weren't looking at me—they were looking at each other.

Like I'd just walked in wearing the wrong uniform to a cult ritual.

Again. Their awkward silence sat heavy. Uneasy. Guilty?

I raised an eyebrow. "Why do you all look like you just got caught stealing candy from a temple?" I chuckled, trying to break the tension. "Come on. Where'd you get the alcohol? I need a drink after surviving that memory realm disaster."

No answer. Only the low crackle of the fire and a few too-casual glances exchanged between them, like they were trying not to look guilty.

I walked forward, settling between Jiuge and Trauco on one of the logs, brushing some imaginary dust off my sleeve. The warmth of the fire didn't do much to stop the chill crawling up my back.

Still, no one spoke.

Just... shifty eyes and a synchronized group avoidance technique.

Okay. Weird.

This wasn't just awkward. It was suspicious.

I narrowed my eyes. "Wait. Is this about the wine? Did you guys run out and feel too guilty to tell me?"

Eva cleared her throat. Barely audible. "We have wine. But..."

My head tilted. "But what?" I looked at her, confused.

I held out my hand, a universal gesture of please and thank you, and one of the Alpha Team—an elf with guilt practically glowing from his pointed ears—glanced nervously at Agnos.

Agnos gave the smallest nod.

Permission granted.

The elf handed me a mug like he was passing over a live artifact from the gods.

And then Eva—reluctant, resigned—slowly reached down and pulled a bottle from beneath the fold of her cloak.

The moment I saw it, my entire soul short-circuited.

Diamond-encrusted. Curved gold rim. Enchanted glass shimmer. A bottle so obnoxiously opulent it belonged in a dragon's hoard.

My eyes went wide. My jaw? On vacation.

"You…" I pointed at the bottle. "You—you—you—is that my wine?!"

It was my special limited edition Tunder Wine. The one I'd been saving. The one I hid inside the secret stitched compartment of my backpack—the one labeled DO NOT OPEN UNLESS THE WORLD IS ENDING.

Apparently the memory realm counted.

Eva winced, clutching the bottle like a guilty raccoon caught red-pawed in a pantry.

"I mean… technically… yes," she whispered.

My grip on the mug faltered. "Technically?! That's like me saying I technically borrowed a hydra!"

Jiuge coughed into her sleeve. "It was Agnos' idea."

"Traitor," Agnos muttered to her without looking up.

I held my mug up dramatically. "This—this is betrayal with marshmallows."

Trauco at least had the decency to look ashamed. "We were gonna tell you. After. When you were less... unconscious."

"Oh, so you were just gonna cheers over my unconscious body?"

Agnos finally spoke, arms crossed and voice flat. "It was either open the wine or endure Heim channeling his rage into what I can only describe as violent slam poetry. You should thank us."

I stared at him. He didn't blink.

Agnos shrugged, utterly unrepentant. "It served its purpose. The morale boost was necessary."

Jiuge at least had the decency to look vaguely ashamed. "In fairness, Heim had already started making up songs. Bad ones. About you. We were trying to drown him out."

I took the bottle from Eva with a sigh, not quite snatching but close enough to make my irritation clear, and poured the wine into my mug with the grace of someone deeply unimpressed.

I slowly lifted the mug to my lips, watching them over the rim like a man tasting betrayal. The wine was good. Too good. Deep, spiced, with a warmth that settled in my chest and almost convinced me to forgive them.

Almost.

"This is fine," I resigned with a sigh. "Just next time you raid my emergency stash—at least save me the first sip."

Agnos raised an eyebrow. "Noted."

I set aside my irritation over the hijacking of my secret wine stash—barely—and focused on what mattered.

"I met Kaleon's power again," I said, breaking the uneasy silence.

All heads turned in my direction—except Heim, who was too busy snoring into Agnos's shoulder, still blissfully drunk and out cold.

Agnos straightened, his expression shifting to something sharper. Focused.

Meanwhile, Eva and Trauco exchanged confused glances, clearly in the dark. The rest of Alpha Team mirrored their expressions, puzzled but listening. The Support team and rescued creatures lingered on the far side of the camp, too far to hear and probably better off for it.

"We need to meet with Vorta," I continued, the weight of the memory realm still heavy on my shoulders. "Soon. Before things get worse."