A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

The "training ground"—a term I used generously—looked more like a set from a horror movie.

The jungle stretched endlessly before me, dense with twisted roots and leaves that whispered ominously in the humid air.

Every shadow seemed alive, and the occasional roar in the distance made my stomach churn.

Standing at the center was our instructor, a skeleton warrior adorned with a jaguar pelt he had no business wearing. He handed me a flimsy wooden spear, his bony hand tapping the shaft twice as if it were Excalibur.

"Your trial," he said in a voice that sounded like wind whistling through hollow bones, "is to face the Jaguars of Night. They are illusions but will feel real. Show courage. Learn to defend. And avoid becoming their meal."

"Meal?" I echoed, gripping the spear like a lifeline. "What's the dessert option?"

"Your screams," he said, deadpan.

Behind him, lounging on a throne made of tangled vines and jaguar skulls, was Agnos. My spectral cat supervisor had apparently decided this was his vacation day.

"Don't embarrass yourself, Carl," Agnos called lazily. "Jaguars have standards."

The first glow of a jaguar's eyes emerged from the underbrush, and my heart nearly leapt out of my chest.

The first attack came fast. Too fast.

I swung wildly, my spear connecting with a thick tree trunk instead of the jaguar. The illusion, which apparently didn't get the memo about being fake, pounced, knocking me into a patch of sticky sap.

"Defend yourself!" the skeleton instructor barked.

"I'm trying!" I yelled, wrenching the spear free only for it to stick again.

In desperation, I grabbed a massive leaf hanging nearby and brandished it like a shield. When the jaguar lunged again, I flung the leaf in its face.

To my shock, it worked. The illusion burst into shimmering dust.

"See?" Agnos called. "You're a natural at leaf-ing your problems behind." He paused. "No? Tough crowd."

By the time I faced the third jaguar, I'd abandoned any semblance of strategy. When three glowing pairs of eyes surrounded me, I closed mine, screamed like a banshee, and spun in a wild circle, flailing my spear.

When I opened my eyes, the illusions were gone. The instructor stared at me in silence for a long moment.

"Did... did I win?" I panted.

"Technically, yes," he said flatly. "But that scream needs work."

I collapsed onto the ground, covered in sap and jungle debris. Agnos wandered over, licking his paw with theatrical disinterest.

"Well, you didn't die. Proud of you, sport."

"Wanna trade places next time?" I muttered.

"Ha! No." Agnos hopped onto my chest and purred. "I have a delicate constitution."

********

The fifth day of the Core Course Trial is titled "Crossing the Desert of the Soul."

The desert was an infinite expanse of golden sand, shimmering in the oppressive heat. A mirage-like skeleton guide handed me a glowing canteen.

"Drink only when absolutely necessary," it warned. "This trial is about reflection, not refreshment."

"Oh, good," I said. "Nothing like dehydration to inspire personal growth."

Agnos, of course, had opted for comfort. He reclined on a floating magic carpet beside me, sipping something that looked suspiciously like a mojito.

"Enjoy your existential crisis, Carl," he said, lowering his sunglasses. "Let me know if you find enlightenment. Or snacks."

The mirages started subtly—shimmers at the edges of my vision, then full-blown memories projected onto the sand.

First came the Regret Mirage.

I was back in my zoology class, presenting my research on beetle mating habits.

I vividly remembered calling my professor "Mom" by accident, and here she was, ten feet tall, scolding me in front of a snickering audience.

"Analyze the beetles, Carl," she boomed, "not your childhood trauma!"

"Great," I muttered. "Even my hallucinations are judgmental."

Next came the Fear Mirage.

It recreated the infamous school talent show where I'd attempted to sing. The audience, now an intimidating mix of humans and weirdly magical creatures, was armed with tomatoes.

"Young Carl, no!" I yelled at my mirage self. "Don't do it!"

But my past self opened his mouth, and the caterwauling began. The audience booed and hurled tomatoes.

"Why tomatoes?" I yelled. "Who even brings those to talent shows?!"

Agnos drifted into the scene, floating on his carpet.

"This trial is about confronting your fears," he said, lazily dodging a flying tomato. "Not whining about them."

By the time I staggered to the end of the desert, I was a sweaty, emotional wreck. The skeleton guide nodded approvingly.

"You confronted your fears and survived."

"Barely," I muttered, reaching for the glowing canteen.

Agnos floated past, holding a frozen drink. "Did you find inner peace?"

I glared at him and drained the canteen in one gulp. "I found out that you're the worst."

*******

On the 6th day of trial...

The Frozen Realm hit me like a slap to the face. The snowstorm was relentless, and every gust of wind felt like knives against my skin. I was grouped with three others for this trial.

A troll named Grogg, who looked strong but seemed terrified of the snow.

A pixie named Twix, who was the size of a soda can but had the attitude of a drill sergeant.

A ghost who didn't bother to introduce himself because he kept forgetting he was dead.

"Fantastic," I muttered. "The dream team."

Our first task was setting up a magical tent.

"Move that pole there!" Twix barked from her perch on Grogg's shoulder.

"It doesn't go there!" I snapped back. "And why aren't you helping?"

"I'm supervising," Twix said smugly.

Meanwhile, Grogg fumbled with the poles, accidentally stabbing the ground. The tent collapsed into a pile of enchanted fabric.

Later, we tried lighting a fire. Every time we got a spark going, the ghost floated through it, snuffing it out.

"Stop walking into the flames!" I shouted.

The ghost blinked at me. "I don't feel anything."

"No kidding," Twix muttered. "You're dead."

Despite the chaos, we pulled together when a snowstorm hit. Grogg carried the group through the blizzard, Twix used her pixie magic to shield us from icy winds, and the ghost acted as a buffer against flying icicles.

By dawn, we stumbled out of the Frozen Realm, battered but alive.

The skeleton instructor nodded. "You survived. Well done."

Twix smirked at me. "You're not the worst human I've worked with."

"Thanks... I think?" I replied.

Agnos was waiting by a magical heater, licking his paw. "Lovely teamwork, everyone. But let's not pretend Carl did most of the work."

I glared at him. "Next trial, I'm dragging you with me."

Each trial had pushed me closer to my limits. They were brutal, embarrassing, and at times downright ridiculous. But I'd survived, and maybe—just maybe—I was starting to grow into the Zoologist Mythica needed.

If the trials didn't kill me first.