A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

The crumbling library towered ahead like a relic of a bygone age, shrouded in mist and mystery.

Its spires pierced the swirling fog, their jagged silhouettes making it look less like a place of knowledge and more like something you'd find in a villain's lair.

"Of course, it had to be spooky," I muttered, pulling my cloak tighter around me. Agnos, my ever-loyal feline companion—if loyalty meant sarcasm and naps—perched lazily on my shoulder.

"This place is giving 'haunted textbook factory,'" I told him. "Let's make this quick."

Agnos yawned, a slow, exaggerated motion. "Try not to embarrass yourself in front of any ghosts. Again."

I pushed open the creaking door. The inside was… worse.

Rows upon rows of towering bookshelves stretched into the gloom. The air buzzed faintly, like the hum of power lines, but heavier. Ancient scrolls and crumbling manuscripts whispered unintelligibly, as if alive.

My boots kicked up a fine layer of dust, and I could've sworn the motes formed the words Run while you can before they scattered.

"Oh, lovely," I whispered. "Atmosphere."

And then she appeared.

Ms. Dustwick, the skeletal librarian, materialized out of nowhere, her bony frame swathed in a cobweb-like shawl. Her skull glared at me with empty eye sockets, and a pair of glasses sat precariously on her non-existent nose.

Despite her lack of skin, she somehow managed a frown that screamed "disappointed teacher."

"No snacks. No drinks. And for the love of the gods," she said, her voice a mix of gravel and a teacher's exasperation, "no touching the forbidden tomes unless you wish for a spontaneous explosion of time magic."

I froze, coffee mug in hand. "Define 'snack,' asking for a friend."

Ms. Dustwick pointed a skeletal finger at me. "Anything edible or drinkable, you unruly biped."

"Cool. Glad I didn't bring snacks." I shoved a half-eaten sandwich deeper into my pocket, hoping she wouldn't hear the crinkle of foil.

Her bony gaze lingered for a moment too long before she waved me deeper into the library. "You have been assigned to the Memory Archive. Follow the blue lanterns. And keep your… friend out of trouble."

Agnos stretched across my shoulder and purred, "Define trouble."

The Memory Archive was tucked away at the back of the library, behind a row of particularly ominous bookshelves labeled Accidents and Catastrophes.

The blue lanterns Ms. Dustwick mentioned flickered weakly, their light casting eerie shadows on the ancient stone walls.

When I finally reached the archive, I found a pedestal at its center, surrounded by what looked like polished stones, each glowing faintly. A sign above it read:

"Relive the Past. Reflect for the Future."

Not ominous at all.

"So, I just… touch one?" I asked aloud, as though the stones would answer.

"Great plan," Agnos said, already curling up in a dusty armchair nearby. "Touch the glowing rocks in the haunted library. Nothing could go wrong."

"You're a pillar of support," I shot back.

With a deep breath, I picked up one of the stones at random. A sudden jolt shot through my hand, and the world around me warped.

I blinked, and suddenly, I wasn't in the library anymore.

I was standing in the middle of what looked like a ballroom, surrounded by a flock of harpies. And I do mean flock—there were feathers everywhere.

A towering, bejeweled harpy at the center of the room screeched, "Welcome to the Grand Harpy Ball!"

"Oh no," I said, but it wasn't my voice. It was higher-pitched and overly dramatic. I looked down and realized… I wasn't me. I was inside the memory of a harpy.

Before I could process this horrifying realization, chaos erupted.

One of the harpies near me flapped her wings, a spark of magic escaping her talons. It caught on a chandelier, which promptly burst into flames. The fire spread faster than I could squawk—yes, squawk—and soon the entire ballroom was in full-on pandemonium.

"Oh no! My feathers are singed!" one harpy cried.

"Oh no, I've burned everyone's feathers. This is so much worse!" I said—or rather, the harpy I was inhabiting said.

The memory collapsed into a blur of flames, feathers, and screaming, and I was unceremoniously ejected back into the library, clutching the stone and gasping for air.

"Well," Agnos drawled, not even looking up from his nap, "looks like someone had fun."

After a few more mishaps—one involving a troll's particularly embarrassing first date—I finally found the right stone. The moment I touched it, a sense of familiarity washed over me.

This wasn't someone else's memory. It was mine.

The scene that unfolded wasn't heroic or glamorous. It was me, sitting alone in my apartment, surrounded by books and half-empty coffee cups. I was scrolling through job postings, rejection emails piling up in my inbox.

"You're too idealistic," I heard myself mutter. "No one wants a zoologist who cares more about animals than profit."

The memory shifted. Now, I was at a family dinner, awkwardly explaining my latest job hunt.

"Maybe you should aim lower," someone said. "It's not like you're saving the world."

"I just… want to make a difference," my past self replied, voice barely above a whisper.

The memory faded, and I was back in the library, the stone still warm in my hand.

It wasn't the grand revelation I'd been expecting. No ancient prophecy or hidden destiny. Just… me. A reminder of why I came to Mythica in the first place.

Ms. Dustwick's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Your time is up. And tell your creature to stop chewing on the forbidden tomes!"

I turned to see Agnos gnawing on the corner of a particularly sinister-looking book.

"Agnos!" I hissed, grabbing him before Ms. Dustwick could launch one of her enchanted quills at us.

"Not my fault," Agnos said, looking thoroughly unrepentant. "It smelled like fish."

As we left the library, the air outside felt lighter, less oppressive. But something about the day lingered with me. The memories I'd seen weren't just glimpses of the past—they were pieces of a puzzle.

I glanced back at the library, its spires disappearing into the mist.

"Echoes of the past," I murmured. "Guess they're not done with me yet."

Agnos flicked his tail. "Let's hope they're less flammable next time."

But deep down, I knew the real trial wasn't behind me. It was ahead, waiting in the shadows of Mythica's ever-unfolding mysteries.