A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

The drop-off point was tucked between two jagged cliffs, the kind that seemed eager to swallow you whole if you got too close. The air buzzed with a strange static that made my hair stand on end, and a faint greenish glow illuminated the dark path ahead.

For something so integral to Mythica's infrastructure, this place could use a serious makeover.

Maybe some signs. A snack cart. Anything to make it feel less like I was about to board a one-way trip to regret.

"Welcome to the Bridge of Souls Terminal," said a voice to my left, raspy and cheerful in a way that made my skin crawl. The speaker was a wraith, hovering a few feet above the ground with a clipboard in hand and a name tag pinned to what might've been a chest. It read: Hi, I'm Morty! Friendly.

"Uh, thanks?" I offered, unsure of the etiquette for interacting with wraith staff. "I'm here for the coach to Mictlan. Is this the right spot?"

Morty's eyes—or rather, the glowing voids where eyes should've been—seemed to widen with delight. "Oh, you're just in time! The next coach departs in five minutes. Do you have your ticket?"

I fumbled through my bagpack, pulling out my phone and showing the glossy black pass I'd bought online with a barcode. It shimmered faintly under the eerie light, the letters spelling out 'Mictlan: Bridge Access' in an elegant, almost mocking script.

Morty nodded approvingly and pointed to a bench fashioned from skulls and ribs.

"Wait there," he said. "And don't touch the bench. It bites."

I gingerly perched on the edge, keeping my hands in my lap.

Agnos, who had been uncharacteristically silent since we arrived, lounged next to me, casually licking a paw.

His purple fur glowed faintly in the green light, giving him an otherworldly appearance. Fitting, considering he was the guardian of spirit leylines and the main reason I was in this mess.

The coach arrived moments later, and boy, it did not disappoint.

The Bridge Coach was unlike anything I'd seen before.

A skeletal carriage that shimmered with obsidian veins, pulled by three spectral Xoloitzcuintli. Their glowing blue forms seemed to flicker between solid and ethereal, like they couldn't decide whether they wanted to exist in this realm or not.

The coach door creaked open, and a low, otherworldly hum echoed from inside.

"Step lively!" called the driver, a towering figure clad in black armor that looked like it had been pulled from a museum exhibit on medieval nightmares. His helmet obscured his face, but the burning orange light where his eyes should've been made it clear he wasn't your average chauffeur.

I climbed aboard, followed by Agnos, who leapt gracefully onto the seat beside me.

The interior was... eclectic, to say the least. The seats were cushioned with what I really hoped wasn't actual human skin, and the overhead lights flickered sporadically, casting long, shifting shadows.

And then there were the passengers.

To my left sat a banshee, her translucent form practically vibrating with excitement as she recounted her last days alive to a visibly disinterested chupacabra.

Across from me, a lich in a tattered cloak was holding court, dispensing unsolicited advice about crossing techniques.

"Rule number one," the lich droned, tapping a bony finger against an imaginary blackboard, "don't look back. The bridge loves when you look back. It'll eat your regrets like candy and spit them out as nightmares."

"Is he serious?" I whispered to Agnos, who yawned in response. Not helpful.

The banshee turned to me, her eyes alight with curiosity. "First time crossing, sweetheart?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Oh, you're gonna love it," she said, clasping her hands together. "The Bridge of Souls is a real character-building experience. Or soul-destroying. Depends on your vibe."

I decided to ignore her and stare out the window instead.

When we finally arrived, the first thing I noticed was how… normal the bridge looked. It stretched out into the distance, a simple stone structure with ornate railings that seemed to shimmer faintly under the greenish glow of the surrounding mist.

No fiery pits, no swirling vortexes of doom.

Just a bridge.

"Looks easy," I muttered.

The driver let out a laugh that sounded like rusted hinges giving way. "Oh, sure. Easy as falling asleep in a room full of banshees. Good luck, kid."

I stepped off the coach, Agnos at my heels. The banshee waved enthusiastically as the coach pulled away, leaving us alone at the edge of the bridge.

Well, almost alone.

"Wait, I thought the coach would help us crossover the bridge.. was Dino wrong?"

A faint, ghostly chorus seemed to hum from the stone itself, a low, mournful tune that made my chest tighten.

I took a step onto the bridge, and that's when it hit me.

This wasn't just any bridge. This was my bridge.

The stone beneath my feet shifted, subtly at first, then more dramatically as I walked. The smooth surface became uneven, forcing me to tread carefully. Shadows flickered at the edges of my vision, growing darker and more distinct with each step.

And then I saw them.

The first shadow was my mother, standing at the doorway of our tiny apartment back on Earth. She looked exactly as I remembered. Tired but smiling, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She waved to me, her expression warm and inviting.

"Carl," she called, her voice echoing unnaturally. "Come home."

I froze. "This isn't real," I said aloud, my voice trembling. "You're not real."

The shadow tilted its head, and for a moment, I thought I saw something darker lurking behind her eyes. Then she faded, replaced by another figure, myself. Or rather, the version of myself that stayed on Earth.

This Carl looked happier, more confident. He was holding a diploma in one hand and a job offer in the other. He wasn't stumbling through a magical realm, chasing fragments for a lazy purple cat.

"See what you gave up?" the shadow taunted. "Was it worth it?"

I clenched my fists, refusing to look away. "Yes," I said firmly. "It was worth it."

The shadow smirked and dissolved into the mist.

By the time I reached the other side of the bridge, I was drenched in sweat and emotionally drained. Agnos, of course, looked as unbothered as ever.

"That wasn't so bad," he said, stretching lazily.

I shot him a glare but didn't have the energy to argue. Instead, I turned my attention to the towering gates ahead, etched with intricate designs of skulls and flowers.

A sign above read, 'Welcome to Mictlan Academy of Afterlife Advancement (MAAA)—Learn, Grow, Transcend.'

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered.

Agnos smirked. "Did I forget to mention that Mictlan is more of an academic hub than a spooky underworld?"

"Yes, you did," I said through gritted teeth.

As the gates creaked open, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of lessons this so-called university had in store for me.