A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

The elevator dinged softly as I stepped out into Fenrir's headquarters, greeted by the sterile but oddly imposing lobby of polished black stone and glowing runes etched into the walls.

Fenrir himself waited by the reception desk, idly tossing a gleaming silver coin that caught the light with every rotation.

"Ah, Carl," he said, his grin as wolfish as his reputation. "Ready for rounds three and four of the Predator-Level Security test?"

"Do I have a choice?" I asked, adjusting my uniform—a futile attempt to steady my nerves.

"No," Fenrir replied, his grin widening. "But you knew that already."

He snapped his fingers, and the air around me shimmered.

I barely had time to mutter a half-hearted complaint before the world twisted and reassembled itself into a forest that stretched impossibly high.

The colossal trunk of Yggdrasil loomed in the distance, its branches disappearing into an ethereal haze. Around me, the sound of rustling leaves and faint chittering filled the air.

"Welcome to the Ratatoskr Message Relay," Fenrir's voice echoed, though his smug face was nowhere in sight. "Your task: deliver this message to the gods at the top of Yggdrasil. Simple enough, right?"

A scroll materialized in my hand, tied with a shimmering golden ribbon. I was about to mutter something snarky when a furry blur shot past my shoulder, snatched the scroll, and vanished into the undergrowth.

"What the—?" I spun around, catching sight of the culprit: a red squirrel with unnervingly intelligent eyes, clutching the scroll and twitching its tail mockingly.

"Oh, did I forget to mention? Ratatoskr will be doing his best to stop you. Good luck!" Fenrir's laughter faded into the wind.

The chase begins.

"Hey, get back here!" I yelled, sprinting after Ratatoskr. The squirrel darted through the underbrush with an agility that would've made an Olympic sprinter cry. Branches whipped at my face, roots conspired to trip me, and acorns rained down like tiny cannonballs.

"Seriously? Acorns? That's your strategy?" I shouted, narrowly dodging a particularly well-aimed shot.

Ratatoskr paused on a low branch, chittering at me in what I could only interpret as laughter. Then, with a flick of his tail, he leapt higher into the trees, leaving a trail of faintly glowing paw prints.

"Okay, Carl," I muttered to myself, hands on my knees as I caught my breath. "You're chasing a divine squirrel up a world tree. Totally normal day."

I decided to switch tactics. Instead of blindly running after him, I'd use my zoological expertise—or whatever passed for it in Mythica. I pulled a nut butter sandwich from my utility belt (don't ask; it's a long story) and waved it in the air.

"Hey, Ratatoskr! Bet you've never had artisanal nut butter on sourdough before!"

The rustling above stopped. A pair of beady eyes peeked down at me, curious and wary.

"That's right," I cooed, holding up the sandwich like it was a winning lottery ticket. "You guide me to the top, and this bad boy's all yours. Half now, half when we get there."

Ratatoskr hesitated, then scurried down the trunk, sniffing the air suspiciously. I broke off a corner and tossed it to him. He devoured it in seconds, licking his tiny paws with obvious delight.

"Deal?" I asked, extending the sandwich.

The squirrel chittered affirmatively, grabbing the sandwich and bounding ahead, motioning for me to follow.

Unbeknownst to him, I'd slipped a tiny rune of drowsiness into the bread. By the time we reached the halfway point, Ratatoskr's movements grew sluggish, his eyelids drooping.

Eventually, he curled up on a branch and dozed off, clutching the sandwich like a prized treasure.

"Sorry, buddy," I whispered, gently retrieving the scroll. "Business is business."

The rest of the climb was surprisingly uneventful, and I delivered the scroll to a glowing altar at the top of Yggdrasil.

A portal opened, whisking me back to the lobby, where Fenrir waited with an amused expression.

"Bribing Ratatoskr with food? Classic," he said.

I shrugged. "Everyone's got a price, even squirrels."

I barely had time to catch my breath before the world shifted again.

This time, I found myself in a desolate wasteland under a blood-red sky. Crumbling stone walls surrounded me, and a cold, unnatural wind howled through the air.

"Your next trial," Fenrir's voice announced, "is to prevent a group of Draugr from crossing into restricted territory. You'll find a torch and a bag of enchanted salt nearby. Use them wisely."

As if on cue, the ground trembled.

A group of Draugr emerged from the shadows, their glowing blue eyes locked onto me. Their rotting armor and skeletal frames made my stomach churn, but there was no time to hesitate. I grabbed the torch and salt, formulating a plan on the fly.

Ever heard of the Draugr? Imagine a zombie, but make it Norse.

These creepy, undead creatures are basically the ultimate graveyard guards, rising from their graves to protect their buried treasure like they're the world's worst (but most literal) security system.

They're all rotting and gross, with a stench that could make even the strongest stomachs turn.

"Okay, Carl," I muttered, backing away as the Draugr advanced. "Think. Salt and fire. What do you know about Draugr?"

I hurled a handful of salt at the nearest one, hoping for some magical reaction. Nothing happened. The Draugr paused, glanced at the salt on the ground, and then resumed their march, clearly unimpressed.

"Great," I muttered. "Plan B."

I lit the torch and waved it at them, but they didn't seem particularly bothered by that either.

Desperation kicked in, and I decided to improvise. Grabbing a few loose stones, I arranged them into a small pile and set the torch on top, pretending it was some kind of ritual pyre.

"Behold!" I shouted, waving my arms dramatically. "A Viking funeral in your honor!"

The Draugr stopped, their heads tilting in confusion.

Encouraged by their hesitation, I began tossing random items into the "pyre"—a pen, a packet of gum, even my goggles. The Draugr watched intently, their glowing eyes narrowing as if trying to decipher the meaning of my bizarre ceremony.

While they were distracted, I grabbed the bag of salt and spread it in a wide circle around them. Then, using the torch, I ignited the salt, which burst into a brilliant blue flame.

The Draugr recoiled, hissing and retreating as the magical barrier forced them back.