A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

The orb in my hand hummed with an unsettling energy, its runes glowing faintly under the dim light of the back alley. It felt warm, almost alive, like it had its own pulse.

I squinted at the intricate symbols carved into its surface, trying to make sense of them. They had this ancient vibe, like they were lifted straight from a forgotten tome of forbidden knowledge.

I opened my mouth to ask Agnos—because he seemed to know everything—but he cut me off with a dismissive wave of his paw.

"Don't bother," he said, not even glancing back. "It's not the time for you to understand what the runes say. And stop staring at that thing like it's going to whisper secrets," Agnos muttered, throwing me a glance over his shoulder.

I scowled. "Maybe if someone explained what these runes actually mean, I wouldn't have to stare."

His purple fur gleamed even in the shadowy gloom, a stark contrast to the somber surroundings. "You'll break it before you figure anything out."

"Excuse me?" I arched a brow, clutching the orb tighter. "Do you think I'm going to break it or something?"

"Yes," Agnos said flatly, not missing a beat.

I frowned.

"So," I ventured, breaking the silence that had stretched too thin for comfort, "are you going to tell me what this thing really does, or should I just start shaking it like a snow globe to see what happens?"

"Not the time," he shot back, his voice a little too nonchalant. "Put it away before you drop it, Carl."

"Oh, sure, let me just shove the orb into my pocket," I said sarcastically. "That'll keep it safe."

"Put it away," he muttered, as if I were a child holding a glass ornament in a bullring.

Muttering under my breath, I stuffed the orb back into my bag. It nestled there with a suspiciously content hum, like it knew I had no clue what I was dealing with.

As we continued down the narrow, grimy alleyway, I glanced around at the decrepit surroundings. The air was thick with an acrid stench, a cocktail of sulfur and decay.

Shadows loomed unnaturally long, stretching like skeletal fingers toward us. The ground beneath my boots was sticky, as though the alley itself was trying to hold us hostage.

"Hey, Agnos," I said, breaking the silence, "this place screams 'back-alley-murder scene.' Just saying. Are you sure this is the best route? Or are we walking straight into another near-death experience?"

"And you're still alive. For now," he said, his tone annoyingly cheerful.

"Oh, great. That's reassuring."

Agnos snorted, clearly amused. "If you're so worried, feel free to turn back."

"And leave you to your shady dealings? No thanks. If someone's dying, I'd at least like to see it first."

"Your confidence in me is overwhelming," he drawled, his golden eyes glinting in the shadows.

After what felt like an eternity of walking, we arrived at what could only be described as the epitome of haunted real estate.

"Really?" I said, gesturing toward the haunted building. "Did we just stumble into every horror movie cliché ever made?"

Agnos ignored me, striding forward with the confidence of someone who thought ghosts wouldn't dare mess with him. "Welcome to Mictlan's finest accommodations."

"It's a haunted house," I muttered under my breath as I followed.

"You're in the land of the dead," Agnos said with a shrug. "Haunted is normal."

The inn before us was a dilapidated wreck, its wooden frame sagging under centuries of decay. Broken windows stared out like soulless eyes, and the door creaked ominously in the faint breeze. A sign above it swung precariously, the lettering too faded to read.

I took one look and crossed my arms. "So, this is where we die?"

Agnos smirked. "We're already in the land of the dead, Carl. It's called blending in."

"Oh, fantastic," I muttered, reluctantly following him inside.

The moment we stepped through the threshold, my jaw dropped. The interior was the complete opposite of what the outside had promised.

Polished floors gleamed under crystal chandeliers, and the air was filled with the faint aroma of something sweet—like lavender and honey. Plush armchairs lined the walls, and the whole place had this upscale speakeasy vibe.

Agnos glanced at my expression and smirked. "Never judge a book by its cover."

"Yeah, well," I said, recovering from my shock, "you could've warned me that this place runs on Narnia logic."

Before he could respond, a ghoul approached us. And by ghoul, I mean she was gorgeous in a terrifying sort of way.

Her translucent skin shimmered faintly, and her hollow eyes glowed like twin lanterns in the dark. She moved with an eerie grace, like she was floating just above the floor.

I tried not to stare, but it was hard not to. I'd seen creatures from every corner of Mythica, but this one was different. She had that something that made it clear she wasn't here to be friendly.

My voice barely a whisper, muttered, "Okay, not to sound rude, but... is she real?"

Agnos shrugged, unfazed. He smirked. "Relax, Carl. You'll see soon enough."

Agnos, ever the suave cat, produced a sleek black card from seemingly nowhere. When the ghoul saw it, her hollow eyes widened—if that's even possible—and she gave a deep, respectful bow before leading us to a private room.

The room was decked out like a high-end karaoke lounge, complete with velvet sofas, a glowing table, and even a karaoke machine in the corner. I glanced at Agnos, raising an eyebrow. "So, are we supposed to sing for our supper, or…?"

"Yes," he said, deadpan.

I froze. "Wait, what?"

Agnos chuckled, his sharp grin practically glowing in the dim light. "Relax. I'm joking. Well, mostly."

I glared at him, plopping onto the nearest sofa. "Why do you enjoy messing with me so much?"

He shrugged, looking far too pleased with himself. "Your reactions are priceless. Makes the afterlife a little less dull."

Before I could retort, a ghoul waitress entered, carrying trays of food that smelled heavenly—pun intended. She set the dishes down with practiced precision and informed us that the owner would join us shortly.

The "owner" turned out to be a massive bird-like figure with dark, glossy feathers and a regal air that screamed "ancient deity." His head resembled Horus, and I couldn't help but blurt, "Horus?"

The bird stiffened, his eyes narrowing. "My name," he said in a voice that was both raspy and commanding, "is Huur. I am the messenger of Death."

"Ah. My bad," I muttered, shrinking back.

Note to self. Don't insult ancient beings.

Huur's demeanor changed the moment he saw Agnos. He bowed deeply, his feathers trembling. It wasn't respect—it was fear.

Agnos wasted no time. "The fragment," he said, his voice sharp. "Where is it?"

Huur hesitated, his beady eyes darting around the room. "I—I no longer have it," he stammered. "It's with… Hades."

"Of course it is," Agnos muttered.

Huur launched into a panicked explanation, saying he had gambled away the fragment to pay off his debts. Apparently, Hades owned a casino in the underworld, and Huur had been lured into a losing game.

Agnos let out a low growl. "You gambled with my fragment?"

"I had no choice!" Huur wailed, prostrating himself on the floor.

Agnos ignored his pleas and turned to me. "Carl, the orb."

"Uh, what now?"

"The orb," he repeated, his eyes glowing faintly.

Reluctantly, I pulled it out, and the moment it was exposed, Huur recoiled, his feathers puffing up like a frightened chicken.

The orb floated out of my hands and hovered before Agnos, its runes glowing brighter. Agnos muttered something under his breath, and the orb pulsed with a strange, otherworldly light.

Huur began to sob. "Please, mercy! I was tricked! Someone knew I had the fragment and—"

"Silence," Agnos commanded.

I clenched my fists. "Do we really have to do this? Can't we just go to Hades and get the fragment ourselves?"

Agnos ignored me, his focus entirely on the orb. I squeezed my eyes shut, unwilling to witness whatever punishment was about to unfold.

I couldn't watch. Covering my eyes with my hands, I braced myself for the worst. Huur's cries turned into something… stranger. I peeked through my fingers—and immediately wished I hadn't.

Huur was now completely bald, his once-majestic feathers gone. He looked like a plucked chicken, his bony wings trembling as he sobbed pathetically.

"What the…" I started, staring at Agnos.

Agnos, unfazed, inspected the orb. "His feathers were more than just decoration. They were his power, his collected souls. He won't be granting wishes anytime soon."

"What...?" I stammered.

"Each feather represented a soul," Agnos said coolly, the orb now hovering beside him. "Huur wasn't just a messenger. He was a devil's advocate, granting wishes in exchange for souls. His power depended on those feathers."

Huur whimpered, covering his bare wings. "I'll... I'll never gamble again! Please, spare me!"

I glanced at Agnos, my chest tightening with pity for the pathetic figure before us. "Was that really necessary?"

"Yes," Agnos said, handing me back the orb. "Now he can't grant any more wishes or steal any more souls. Consider it... rehabilitation."

As we turned to leave, Agnos paused by the door, glancing back at Huur. "Oh, and Huur? If you think of double-crossing me again, you won't even have feathers to lose next time."

Huur nodded furiously, his bald head gleaming under the chandelier.

As we stepped into the hallway, I couldn't shake the image of Huur's pitiful state. "So... what's the plan now?"

Agnos smirked. "We're going to Hades's casino. Time to cash in some chips."

And just like that, the dread that had been pooling in my stomach turned into a curious, uneasy excitement. Something told me this was going to be a gamble I wouldn't soon forget.