A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

Crossing into Lyngvi was like stepping into another world. The air shimmered with an otherworldly glow, and the ground beneath our feet hummed with energy.

Crystal-clear streams wound through lush, verdant forests, and the sky overhead was an impossible shade of azure.

Even Agnos, usually unfazed by anything, looked impressed. "Fenrir's got good taste."

As we explored the island, the path guided us to a scene so ethereal that it felt as though we'd wandered into a painting.

But for all its beauty, something about the scene unsettled me. I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd been here before, though I was certain I hadn't.

My chest tightened with unease, my thoughts slipping back to the vision I'd had when I absorbed the last fragment.

The woman I saw… Could she really have been my mother? The idea gnawed at me, relentless.

My memories—or lack thereof—were a mess. I didn't remember having a family in Mythica, yet the vision seemed to suggest otherwise.

And now, with this strange sense of déjà vu gripping me, I couldn't help but wonder: What memories had I sacrificed in exchange for the fragment? What pieces of myself had been left behind?

Agnos, perched on my shoulder as usual, finally broke the silence. "You've been unusually quiet," he said, his tone sharp with suspicion. "What's eating at you?"

I glanced at him but didn't respond immediately, my eyes drifting back to the scenery. "Just... thinking," I admitted, my voice heavy with the weight of it all. "That last fragment—what it showed me. It's been stuck in my head. The memory—or vision, whatever it was—it felt so real. I can't shake it."

He studied me for a moment, his golden eyes narrowing. "What exactly did you see?"

"A woman," I said simply, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I think... she might've been my mother. But the weird thing is I don't remember ever having a mother. I don't remember anything about my family. Even the ones back in my world. It's like that whole part of my life is just... gone or forgotten."

Agnos tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "So, what? You think the fragment unearthed some lost memory?"

"Maybe," I muttered. "Or maybe it's just messing with me. I don't know. I'm not sure. I can't quite put it into words."

Agnos didn't offer his usual sly remark; instead, he fell silent, which was unusual for him.

We walked in silence for a while after that, the sound of our footsteps muffled by the soft ground. As we drew closer to the lake, the sense of familiarity grew stronger, until it was almost overwhelming. I stopped abruptly, my heart racing.

"Up ahead, that's the Lake of Tears."

A shimmering silver lake stretched out before us, its surface so still it mirrored the sky with crystalline precision.

The surrounding landscape—rolling hills carpeted in emerald moss, dappled with tiny, vibrant wildflowers—was like something out of a fairy tale. It was the kind of place that made you want to sit down and stare forever.

"Agnos," I said, my voice low, "I feel like I've been here before. But I don't remember ever coming here. How is that possible?"

He raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "You're saying this place feels familiar?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding slowly. "The lake, the scenery... it's like I've seen it before. But not just seen it—like I've felt it. Lived it, maybe."

Agnos clicked his tongue, his tail flicking in irritation. "Absorbing that last fragment must've scrambled your brain. It happens sometimes—especially to amateurs."

I shot him a glare. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, oh wise one. Really helpful."

He smirked. "Just calling it like I see it."

Despite his usual snark, I caught a flicker of something else in his expression—something almost like concern.

We approached the Lake of Tears, a sprawling expanse of water so still it looked like glass. Agnos hesitated at the edge, his usual bravado replaced by something softer—reverence, maybe?

"This is where I need to consume the fragment," he said quietly.

"Why here?" I asked.

Agnos' gaze didn't waver from the water. "The Lake of Tears is a place of reflection. It's said to reveal the truth to those who seek it."

"And you're okay with that?"

He smirked, though it didn't reach his eyes. "What's life without a little introspection? Besides, there's another reason why I need to consume my fragment here."

"You know what? I was going to ask why, but honestly, I'm too exhausted to deal with another one of your sly remarks. So, I'll just stand here, arms crossed, and enjoy the show," I said, fixing him with a deadpan stare.

The last fragment hovered in Agnos's paw, glowing faintly like it knew its purpose was nearly fulfilled.

Without any preamble, he tossed it into his mouth and crunched down with the enthusiasm of someone demolishing a particularly stubborn piece of rock candy.

I couldn't help but gape as he chewed away, the sound reverberating like someone grinding stones. For a divine entity, he had absolutely no grace in his eating habits.

"I'm recording this," I muttered, slipping my phone out of my pocket. "Posterity deserves to know what kind of noises gods make when they snack on ancient relics."

The moment the fragment shattered between his teeth, Agnos's purple fur flared to life with a brilliant, almost blinding, glow.

He was suddenly bathed in a radiant, otherworldly hue that made him look like some cosmic being about to drop the hottest mixtape in Mythica. His eyes shone with a golden light, intense and mesmerizing, as though the universe itself was reflecting back at me.

Then he started to float.

Okay, now this was more like it. I'd expected some kind of fireworks or divine spectacle when he absorbed the last fragment, and this was delivering. I couldn't help but grin as I continued recording.

But then things took an unexpected turn.

The fur melted away, replaced by smooth, flawless skin, and Agnos began transforming before my very eyes. The glow dimmed slightly, revealing a tall, striking figure—long purple hair cascading down his back, golden eyes that practically glowed, and an ancient-looking robe that screamed, "I'm important, bow before me."

And he still had cat ears.

I groaned, lowering my phone. "Seriously? Even in human form, you keep the ears? Is this a branding thing?"

Agnos smirked, the kind that could make mortals weak in the knees—or, in my case, roll my eyes so hard I saw the back of my skull. Without responding, he made a series of intricate gestures with his fingers, movements so precise and deliberate they had to mean something.

"What are you doing now?"

He ignored me, his focus unwavering as a purple crystal core materialized in his mouth. Yes, you heard that right—he spit out a glowing gem like some kind of divine vending machine.

The gem floated up, radiating an intense purple light that shot directly into the lake before us. The calm, mirror-like surface rippled violently, and a whirlpool began to form at the center, the light still piercing down into its depths.

"What are you doing?" I asked, suddenly uneasy.

"Stay alert," Agnos murmured, his tone unusually serious.

I frowned, glancing between him and the lake. "What's wrong?"

"That lake isn't just a lake," he said grimly. "Something's stirring."

"Well, yeah, you stirred it!" I snapped, gesturing wildly at the growing whirlpool.

Agnos shot me a look. "It's not supposed to react like this."

Before I could fire back another sarcastic remark, the ground trembled beneath us, a deep, resonant vibration that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. The air grew heavy, thick with an energy that was as oppressive as it was unnatural.

And then, it rose.