A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

There's a certain kind of eerie silence that settles in places like this. The kind that gnaws at your nerves, making you second-guess every step.

I stood before the towering obsidian gateway, its smooth, black surface reflecting the dim, greenish glow of the ethereal fog that swirled around it.

The air tasted like static, crackling with the promise of something big—and more than a little terrifying.

Behind me, the world was an endless stretch of misty cliffs and unknown terrain. Ahead, the gateway loomed like the entrance to a place where no one had ever returned the same.

The weight of my purpose pressed against my chest, heavier than it had been since I first set foot in Mythica.

The final trial. The Oblivion Trials.

A faceless specter materialized before me. It wasn't the kind of "faceless" that makes you shiver with dread.

No, this was the kind of faceless that filled you with the sense of something cold, unknowable, and timeless.

It didn't have a body, per se—just a blackened cloak and a voice that seemed to come from everywhere.

"You have come," it said, its voice rich with power, yet oddly devoid of emotion. "Your final trial is upon you. Place your token on the pedestal and let go of your attachments."

I raised an eyebrow. Attachments? That's what this was about?

"Cool speech," I muttered, shifting my weight from one boot to the other. "Do you do motivational seminars, or is this strictly a one-time deal?"

Agnos, sitting on a nearby rock like he had nothing better to do with his time (which, let's face it, he didn't), flicked his tail in amusement. "That's not how motivational speeches work, Carl."

"Well, someone's gotta spice it up," I grumbled.

The specter didn't respond, its presence unfaltering as I stepped closer to the pedestal.

Then a token that looks like a fragment materialized in front of me. I grabbed it.

The fragment of my past—my token of attachment—rested in my hand. It was a small, jagged piece of obsidian, glimmering faintly as if it held some secret, some memory I wasn't ready to let go of.

It had come from my time back on Earth, a reminder of everything I had left behind: my family, my job hopes, my life in a world that had never truly understood me.

The closer I got to the pedestal, the heavier that fragment became. It wasn't just the physical weight. It was the weight of memories, of everything I had sacrificed to be here, to take on this role in Mythica.

I had left behind friends, familiar places, the life I thought I'd wanted. The life that, in some ways, I'd never gotten to live the way I'd imagined.

As my fingers brushed the pedestal, the air around me thickened, and images flashed before my eyes—scenes from my life on Earth. Some were memories I had tried to bury, some were the moments I clung to when the world felt too alien.

I saw myself, fresh out of college, full of optimism, trying desperately to land my dream job. I'd applied to so many places, been rejected more times than I could count, always telling myself I wasn't going to give up.

But there was a moment when I had to admit I was out of my depth. When the rejection emails piled up higher than the ones I'd actually opened.

When I realized that, maybe, my dream job wasn't going to come true.

Not that way, at least.

The memory shifted—now I was younger, standing on a beach with my family, the sun setting over the water.

My dad had his arm around me, making a joke about how I should have been born with gills, given how much time I spent by the ocean.

I remembered the warmth of that day, the sound of laughter, the way my mom's voice always held that hint of pride when she talked about me.

And then the memories shifted again.

My heart ached as I remembered the animals. The first time I'd held an injured bird in my hands, feeling the fragile pulse of life in my palm.

The days I spent volunteering at shelters, cleaning cages, feeding animals who'd never known a loving hand. I remembered my hope, my dream to make a difference in the world, even if it was only in small ways.

And yet, standing here, I couldn't help but wonder if that dream was really mine, or just a consolation prize after all my failed ambitions.

The pedestal was closer now.

My fingers trembled as I fought the urge to hold on tighter, to pull away from this moment. Letting go felt like a betrayal, like I was cutting ties with everything that had once been so important to me.

A sudden shift in the atmosphere made my breath catch in my throat. The moment my fragment touched the cold stone, the ground beneath my feet rumbled, and green fire blazed up from the edges of the pedestal, licking the air in violent, twisting tendrils.

The gateway came alive. Its obsidian surface shimmered, fractured by the green light, and I heard the faintest whisper of shadows moving behind the veil of fire. The winds around me picked up, swirling with the intensity of a storm.

For a brief moment, I couldn't move. I was frozen in place, caught between the fire and the shadows.

The world narrowed, the air growing thick with an energy that felt like it was suffocating me, burning me, pulling me apart.

Then, a voice boomed out, its words reverberating through my chest like a drumbeat.

"Attachments bind the soul. Let them go, and you will be free."

I swallowed hard.

This was it—the final test.

Let go. Let go of the things that made me human, that tied me to Earth, that defined who I thought I was.

But the gateway wasn't finished yet.

A second voice, one I recognized but hadn't heard in years, my father's voice resonated through the fire. "What will you become without what you have left behind?"

The words struck me like a thunderclap, knocking the wind out of me. I felt my heart hammer in my chest, the weight of everything I'd given up—my dreams, my family, my life—pressing down on me.

But something inside me shifted. A flicker of understanding. Of acceptance.

I took a deep breath, feeling the heat of the flames, the coolness of the obsidian under my fingers. I closed my eyes, and for the first time since I'd arrived in Mythica, I let go. I released the attachments, the fears, the regrets.

I opened my mouth, my voice steady despite the storm raging around me. "Something better."

The green fire roared, then vanished into nothingness, and the gateway shifted, its obsidian surface cracking apart like glass. The air cleared, and the weight of the world seemed to lift from my shoulders.

I could feel the magic surging around me, the transformation taking place.

I took a step forward, the ground solid beneath my feet. I felt a rush of magic as I crossed the threshold, as if the very air had changed, become lighter somehow, as though the world was holding its breath.

The specter's voice, no longer booming but soft and approving, filled the space. "You have passed. You are free."

I walked through the gateway, not knowing what lay beyond, but finally feeling like I was heading toward something new. Something unknown.

But as I stepped through, something caught my eye.

A shadow. Someone watching from the other side. A figure, cloaked in darkness, standing just out of reach of the light.

They didn't speak, didn't move—just watched.

A chill crept down my spine. This wasn't over.

But for the first time in a long time, I wasn't afraid.

I stood tall, feeling the magic of the trial settle inside me. The gateway had closed behind me, but my journey was far from over. Something had shifted. Changed.

And that figure watching me?

I had a feeling they'd be a key player in whatever came next.

And as I stood there, at the edge of this new world, I couldn't help but ask myself: What kind of person would I become now?