A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

I handed the baby Manticore to Thanatos for safekeeping while I moved on to the next game. He seemed a little too eager to accept it.

Should I be worried?

I decided to shrug it off.

The next game led me to door number three. The final region of Domos Haidou—Asphodel Meadows.

Everything about this place screamed meh. The grass looked like it had given up trying to grow, the trees were frozen in mid-sulk, and the sky didn't even bother to commit to weather. It was just there, like someone had left the "default" setting on.

My boots crunched against the pale, brittle grass as I stepped into the misty expanse, the landscape stretching endlessly in every direction.

If this was a test, it was already getting to me.

"Alright, Carl," I muttered, tugging at the strap of my utility vest for some semblance of comfort. "Just another magical death trap. You've survived worse. Probably."

The Meadows didn't reply, which was both a relief and unsettling.

No looming monsters, no blaring alarms.

Just this… emptiness.

My pulse felt sluggish, like my body was syncing with the oppressive monotony around me.

Then I saw it—a peculiar structure rising in the distance. It looked like an ornate hedge maze, but its walls shimmered faintly, like oil on water. I approached cautiously, my boots dragging a little more with each step.

My head felt heavy, and I realized I hadn't blinked in what felt like minutes. The air smelled faintly of lilacs and something sharper, bitter—like regret distilled into a scent.

Only, the walls weren't made of regular greenery—they shimmered, giving off the same vibe as a screensaver on a computer that's been left on too long.

At the maze's entrance, a sign carved into gray stone read:

"The Maze of Apathy: Escape if you care enough to try."

"Wow," I muttered, squinting at the inscription. "Subtle. Real encouraging."

Steeling myself, I stepped inside.

The moment my boots crossed the threshold, the entrance sealed behind me with an audible thunk. A low hum reverberated through the maze, and the air grew thicker, pressing down on me like a weighted blanket. If this maze was trying to lull me into complacency, it was doing a fantastic job.

Great.

The shimmering hedges radiated an odd, hypnotic light, and my steps felt sluggish as I moved forward. Each path looked identical, stretching into an oppressive, endless sameness.

The first challenge wasn't exactly what I expected. Nestled in the middle of the path was… a slot machine.

Then I spotted it—an antique slot machine sitting in the middle of the path. Its ornate design gleamed invitingly, polished wood and brass adorned with swirling patterns. The handle practically beckoned me.

Yep, a shiny, retro slot machine complete with a lever, flashing lights, and a jackpot display that read:

"WIN BIG! ESCAPE THE MAZE!"

"Oh, come on," I said, staring at the contraption. "You're not even pretending this isn't a trap."

The machine responded by flickering to life, its glowing screen displaying:

"Spin to Win. Every Pull a Step Closer to Freedom."

"Seriously?" I said aloud, narrowing my eyes at the contraption. "You think I'm falling for that?"

The machine didn't respond, but its lights flickered enticingly, and a cheerful jingle played as if to say, Just one pull won't hurt.

I hesitated. It was obvious bait, but the allure of a shortcut was hard to ignore. My fingers itched to pull the lever. What harm could one spin do?

Against my better judgment, I stepped closer.

I yanked the handle. The reels spun, each click of the mechanism echoing unnaturally loud. Three images flashed on the screen: a phoenix, a golden key, and… a cupcake?

The machine dinged triumphantly. A brass coin slid out with a clink.

"Congratulations! One step closer to freedom!" the screen declared.

"Oh, really?" I pocketed the coin, eyeing the maze ahead. Nothing had changed. The walls didn't shift, no doors opened. Just more identical paths.

But curiosity gnawed at me. What if one more spin did unlock something?

"Guess one more spin won't hurt," I muttered.

I pulled the lever.

The second pull felt less like a choice and more like a compulsion. The coin clattered out, and the screen flashed the same congratulatory message. Still, nothing changed.

Four spins later, I was hooked.

The coins kept coming, and the machine's cheerful voice never wavered.

"One more step closer to freedom!" it chimed with every pull.

By the fifth pull, I caught myself leaning into the machine, my heart racing. The screen's glow seemed brighter now, its cheerful jingle burrowing into my brain like a parasite.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, alarm bells were ringing, but they were faint, muffled under the machine's hypnotic hum.

I was halfway through my seventh spin when I realized my legs felt heavier, like someone had replaced my boots with concrete blocks.

I forced myself to step back, my breathing ragged.

"Nope. Not today, Satan's vending machine."

My hand trembled as I shoved it into my pocket, gripping the brass coins like they might anchor me to reality.

As if on cue, the slot machine screeched like an angry fax machine. Its polished exterior melted away, revealing a grotesque, snarling face in the center of the screen.

Then I noticed the coins.

They were melting—turning into black sludge that seeped through my fingers. I dropped them with a startled yelp, and the machine let out a mechanical screech before vanishing into the mist.

"Not cool!" I yelled, wiping my hands on my vest.

The machine let out a final screech before vanishing in a puff of glittery smoke, leaving me alone in the maze again. My only consolation was that I'd outsmarted the thing.

Eventually.

Message received: shortcuts weren't an option here.

********

The next challenge felt like a cruel joke.

In a clearing, a giant table stretched before me, its surface covered in face-down cards. They shimmered faintly, the edges glowing with a soft, golden light. At the table's edge was a simple instruction carved into the wood:

"Match to Remember. Remember to Move Forward."

"Great," I muttered, crossing my arms. "What's next? Pin the tail on the existential crisis?"

I flipped the first card. It was a snapshot of my childhood—me at seven years old, sitting cross-legged in the grass, cradling a stray kitten I'd found.

The memory hit me like a wave, warm and bittersweet. I flipped another card. This one showed the zoo where I interned during college, the giraffes stretching their necks toward me as I held out branches of acacia leaves.

A match. The two cards dissolved into golden dust, and for a moment, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this was the way forward.

"Okay," I said, brushing imaginary dust off my gloves. "This isn't so bad."

But the more cards I flipped, the heavier the memories became.

My high school graduation.

The first time I aced an exam after weeks of failing.

The day my parents hugged me goodbye when I left for college.

Each memory pulled at me, tempting me to linger, to relive the emotions. The maze had shifted its tactic—it wasn't trying to stop me. It was trying to trap me in nostalgia.

By the time I matched ten pairs, my legs felt like lead, my mind foggy with the weight of everything I'd seen.

A part of me wanted to stop flipping, to just sit and relive the memories over and over. Why move forward when the past was so… comforting?

That thought startled me awake.

Comforting?

I didn't come to Mythica to cling to the past.

I was here for a reason—to protect creatures like Princess or Munchie, to solve problems no one else could. Staying here would mean abandoning everything I'd fought for.

I shook myself and flipped the remaining cards with deliberate speed, refusing to dwell on the images. When the last pair dissolved, the table vanished, leaving only an open path ahead.

********

The final stretch of the maze was the hardest. The mist thickened, and the air grew colder. My body felt heavier with every step, like invisible hands were dragging me down. Whispers filled the air, faint but persistent.

"Why bother?"

"You can't save everyone."

"It's easier to stop trying."

I clenched my fists, forcing myself forward. The whispers grew louder, their words twisting into my deepest fears.

What if I couldn't solve the Coralite war?

What if OK's reputation was beyond saving?

What if I was just a foolish intern playing hero in a world I barely understood?

I stumbled to my knees, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The whispers circled me like vultures, picking apart my resolve.

And then, through the haze, I saw them—Princess's gleaming eyes, the Coralites dancing in harmony, even OK awkwardly practicing his b-boy moves in a controlled space. The memories weren't traps this time.

They were fuel.

"I'm not doing this for me," I said aloud, forcing myself to stand. "I'm doing this because they need me."

The mist recoiled, and the path ahead became clear.

At the end of the maze stood a barrier—a shimmering wall of light. Spirits emerged from the walls, their translucent forms faintly glowing. They bowed as I approached, their expressions soft with approval.

"You have passed the Maze of Apathy," one of the spirits intoned, its voice resonating like a melody. "Few care enough to escape."

I nodded, my chest tightening with a mix of relief and determination. The barrier pulsed, then parted, revealing a narrow staircase descending into darkness.

Beyond lay my next destination, and somehow, I knew it would make this one look like a warm-up.

As I stepped through the portal, a sudden force yanked me forward like a vacuum, twisting the air around me.

Disorientation hit me instantly—my thoughts scattered, my senses reeled, and for a moment, I wasn't sure which way was up.