A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

The badge was still glowing, and I squinted at it, trying to figure out how to make it stop.

"How do I unshine this thing?" I asked.

Agnos raised an eyebrow. "How should I know?"

"Aren't you a god?"

"Yes, but I didn't create the Gleipnir. Besides, you're the badge's owner. Don't they come with instructions?"

I groaned. "I just found out it could merge five minutes ago!"

Agnos said, shaking his head. "How do you keep stumbling into these things?"I looked down at the Gleipnir Badge, its surface still glowing faintly. "Uh... need help. Any of you please tell me that you know how to turn this thing off."

Landvættir raised a stony eyebrow. "Turn it off? It's a badge, not a lamp."

"It's blinding me!" I protested, squinting at the glow.

Landvættir leaned in, examining the badge. "Maybe you can unmerge it. Press something."

With a skeptical look, I turned the badge over and spotted a small button in the center. I pressed it, and the glowing dimmed instantly. A soft click signaled that the badge had split back into its original two forms.

"Crisis averted," I said, pocketing both badges.

Agnos sighed, clearly done with my antics. "Landvættir, the fragment."

Landvættir nodded and beckoned us to follow him.

The burial grounds stretched before us, eerie and quiet, the kind of silence that pressed against your ears like static.

Landvættir, the spirit guardian of this sacred place, led us deeper into the heart of the ancient burial grounds. His voice had the calm detachment of someone dropping bombshells over tea.

"A sacrifice is required to retrieve the fragment," Landvættir intoned, his glowing eyes fixed on the horizon.

I frowned, my boots crunching on the loose gravel. "Sacrifice?" I repeated, hoping the echo in my voice would make it sound less ominous. "What kind of sacrifice? Blood? A favorite playlist?"

Landvættir stopped and turned to face me, his expression a mask of somber inevitability. Slowly, his gaze shifted to Agnos.

Agnos, towering and smug in his divine indifference, met my eyes with a grim expression. "Memories," he said. His voice was as heavy as the air around us.

The word hung there, sharp and cruel. "Memories?" I repeated, the laugh that escaped my throat more of a nervous hiccup. "What kind of memories are we talking about here? The time I faceplanted into a kraken's favorite snack pile or—"

"This is no joke, Carl," Agnos interrupted, his brows furrowing. "The fragment will decide which memories to take. Once you agree, there's no undoing it."

I wanted to make another quip, some witticism to break the tension, but my tongue was suddenly dry.

Landvættir stepped forward, his translucent form seeming to shimmer with the gravity of the moment.

"The fragment has bound itself to this ancient site," he explained. "Removing it will either destroy this place or demand a personal sacrifice. Your memories will ensure the burial grounds remain intact."

"So it's either my memories or this place gets vaporized?" I asked, my stomach dropping like a stone. "That's... fantastic."

Agnos crossed his arms slash paws. "It's your call, but know this—if it's memories of Mythica the fragment takes, you might forget everything you've done here. Everything you've fought for."

"Will I be able to get them back?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Landvættir hesitated, the pause stretching uncomfortably long. "I cannot say. No one has ever willingly sacrificed their memories for the fragment."

Well, that was just great. Not only was I signing up for the equivalent of a mystical brain wipe, but I was also the guinea pig for this whole operation.

Still, the weight of the burial grounds around me, the ancient history that hummed in the air—it was too much to ignore. I knew what I had to do.

"I'll do it," I said, surprising even myself.

Agnos raised an eyebrow (if he had any in his cat form). "Are you sure? This isn't something you can joke your way out of later."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. Look, if I don't do this, what happens? The burial grounds are destroyed, and we lose another piece of Mythica's history? I can't let that happen. Besides..." I paused, offering him a weak grin. "You two will remember me, right? Someone has to remind me why I'm here when I inevitably forget."

Landvættir gave me a solemn nod, then motioned for me to follow him.

We reached a tomb carved from black stone, its surface etched with ancient runes that pulsed faintly with light. The air was colder here, the kind of chill that settled in your bones and whispered warnings you didn't want to hear.

"This is it," Landvættir said. "Place your hand on the tomb to begin the process."

"Which hand?" I asked, more out of nerves than genuine curiosity.

Landvættir gave me a deadpan look. "Does it matter? It's your memories being sacrificed, not your hands."

"Right hand, then," I said, forcing a shaky smile. "Might bring me some good luck."

Agnos snorted behind me, clearly amused by my attempt at humor.

I placed my palm against the cold stone, and immediately the runes lit up like someone had flipped a switch. The tomb pulsed with energy, a golden glow spreading from my hand to the surrounding carvings.

Then came the pain.

It wasn't the sharp, localized kind of pain, like a stubbed toe or a paper cut. No, this was the deep, soul-rattling kind of agony that felt like it was peeling back layers of my consciousness. My knees buckled, and I barely kept upright by sheer willpower.

Flashes of light danced behind my eyes—moments from my life, flickering in rapid succession. I saw my first day in Mythica, the dragonlings in their den, even my awkward attempts to befriend the PinkCorals.

They were there and gone in an instant, as if someone was flipping through my memories like the pages of a book.

"What's happening?" I gasped, clutching at the tomb to keep myself upright.

"The fragment is choosing," Landvættir said, his voice distant.

It felt like hours, but it must have only been minutes. Finally, the glow dimmed, and the pain ebbed away, leaving me shaking and breathless.

When I opened my eyes, a small, purple shard hovered before me, pulsing faintly with light.

"That's it?" I croaked. "I don't seem to forget anything. Does the sacrifice fail?"